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#maneskin x you
tempobrucera · 1 month
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Fire Alarms & Love Hearts
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Pairing: Fem!Reader/Thomas
Description: Thomas might be the reason why you and your neighbours are getting annoyed. And he might also be the one who asks you for a date.
Words: 10.1k
Warnings: Smut, it’s silly - I’m well aware of that
A/N: About 1 ½ years ago i received this lovely prompt and guess who finally wrote it @l0standn0tf0und
Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist
._____.
It's the beginning of November even for Rome the night air is chilling, and you would like to be in bed instead of staying outside in the cold. In your pyjamas. Your neighbours are all outside with you, the fire alarm went off the second night this week. The second night you're staring at your neighbour, you think you overheard someone call him Thomas a few nights ago. He's standing there only in his briefs and while you're still asking yourself how he isn't cold you see him shiver.
"I probably should have grabbed my bathrobe on the way out," he says. You know you should say something but you're busy looking at him, he's tall, fascinating eyes, cute smile and your sleep deprived brain can’t handle anything at this moment. “But then no one’s really dressed for the occasion, are they?”
You realise he's talking to you, and you blush. "Sorry?"
He giggles.
"I’m cold, my ass is going to freeze and fall off and then it's going to get lost somewhere around here and the city is going to be sued because of a naked butt running around and..." He trails off.
Now you are the one laughing.
“I’m sure that’s not what you said before but we can’t have your butt get lost, good thing it looks like they’re letting us inside again."
You're right. A few minutes later you're back in your apartment, ready to fall asleep again. Snuggled in your blankets, thinking about Thomas winking at you before you parted ways again.
When you leave the next day you can see a little note on your door.
“Hello neighbour,
I would like to ask you out for dinner.
If you're interested just let me know, if not please burn this note and never mention it to anyone! And just pretend you don’t know who I am the next time you see me.
P.S. My ass is still in place, no suing yet ;)
P.P.S. You should ask out the cute guy from the floor above you.
Thom"
You're laughing as you fold the note and put it into the pocket of your coat, not knowing how you should respond. Bold you think, but somehow charming. And now you also know who lives in the flat over you, the wind sometimes carrying lovely guitar tunes to your window from his.
It takes you three days to have the courage until you're knocking on Thomas' door. He opens the door in his pyjamas, messy hair and his mouth open in surprise.
"Hi, I'm your neighbour from downstairs, the one you asked out for dinner" you say, a big grin on your face.
He laughs, and you are glad that you didn't just leave a message and go to your flat again.
"Yes, yes, I did," he says, opening the door for you, "but right now I'm making pancakes.”
“Is that what’s smelling like it’s burning?”
His eyes go wide.
"Shit!"
He turns around and runs to the kitchen. You take the time to look at his flat, there are a few books. Guitars. Magazines. A stray sock on the floor. Photos.
He comes back out a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly.
"Okay, so, it's not burnt. It's just... not exactly the way I had planned."
You knit your eyebrows together thinking about the fire alarms again but shake your head at yourself and smile at him instead.
“I would share them but …. I was kind of planning to eat them straight from the pan and my cooking isn’t exactly made to be shared, or even fit for human consumption.“
You laugh.
"I would like to share them anyway," you say and wink at him, "and I'm sure they're delicious."
He smiles back.
"Well then, sit down and let me be your host," he says. “But if you get food poisoning that’s on you, I warned you.”
“You can say if now is a bad time instead of trying to poison me if you want to, that would be perfectly okay, maybe I should have just written a reply to the note. So sorry if I'm interrupting anything. Or anyone."
"You're not. I'm not... I mean... I'm single. I'm sorry." He blushes. "I didn't mean to say that. Fuck. I mean..."
You start laughing.
"Okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's fine, I promise.”
“I’m only in my pyjamas. I wasn't really expecting anyone. Let alone the person I tried to ask out."
You smile at him.
"Well, I didn't expect you to still be in pyjamas in the middle of the day either." It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, you really didn't think he would be in his pyjamas.
He looks at you sheepishly: "Good point. You can have my pancakes but only if you're getting in your pyjamas as well."
It's something you can agree on and ten minutes later you're sitting in his living room, in your pyjamas. He smiles and laughs and you have a nice fuzzy feeling when he looks at you. You talk about music, about travelling, about everything and nothing. When it's dark outside and you're full of pancakes, that are only half as bad as he thought and said but somehow still burned at the edges and the inside that should be fluffy sometimes not quite cooked. You're glad you took the chance. He's fun to be around and you talk more, about concerts, memories and favourite places. It's easy to talk to him, and it's even easier to laugh with him. When the conversation dies down a little bit and your eyes are getting heavy, he looks at you and grins.
"We should do that again."
You look at him, he's beautiful, he's sweet, you nod.
"Yes. Definitely."
"Maybe not in pyjamas next time."
*_____*
Thomas doesn't really think he can call it a date, it's not a real one, but it's a great evening and definitely a beginning of something. He likes you, he would love to take you out, and he feels like a fool for having given you a note and not asked you out directly. It's not his usual behaviour. When he's walking you to the door, he thinks about kissing you. But you're just getting to know each other, so he hugs you, and kisses you on the cheek instead. You're grinning and wave at him, he watches you walk to the door and down the hall to his front door.
"See you around?" He asks, a little hope in his voice.
"Of course. I think that's an offer I can't refuse."
"Good, next time I'll take you out for dinner." He says, you lean in and for a second he thinks you're going to kiss him, but you just give him a quick kiss on the nose.
"That would be wonderful," you say and then you're gone.
He goes back inside, closing the door and leaning against it.
"Fuck," he says to himself. "I've got it so bad."
*_____*
Two weeks later you're going out for dinner with Thomas. He's a little late and when he walks into the restaurant he's already apologising from afar.
"I'm so sorry, the traffic is hell," he says, his eyes wide. "And my phone battery died and I couldn't call you. But I'm here, finally."
You smile.
"It's fine," you say and you take a deep breath, he's so cute, you already knew that but seeing him makes you nervous and happy and giddy. A feeling you haven't had in a while. He sits down opposite you. "And I have to say it's nice to see you in something different than your pyjamas or only in underwear."
He blushes.
"You liked the sight then," he says with a smirk and winks at you.
You look at him, raising an eyebrow and grin.
"I didn't say that."
He chuckles and starts looking through the menu. You watch him, trying to figure him out, but it's not as easy as you first had thought.
"Do you want some wine?" He asks, looking at you.
"That sounds great," you say.
He looks at you, you think he's waiting for a question, but you're not sure what.
"I have another idea," you say, hoping it's a good one.
"What would that be?"
"A bet."
He raises an eyebrow.
"What would this bet involve?"
"We have to make the other one blush, the first one to lose the game has to pay for dinner."
He laughs.
"So we're both going to be in trouble tonight."
"Maybe, maybe not."
He looks at you and smiles, "okay, we can do that, but I should warn you I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
"We'll see," you say.
And with that the game begins. You're looking at each other, smiling, flirting, and you're having fun.
The waiter comes over and asks for your order, Thomas gets Carbonara, and you're getting ravioli.
"Can I try yours?" You ask.
"Yes, if I can try yours."
You're nodding and when the food arrives a few minutes later, you take turns feeding each other.
"This is amazing," you say.
"Yours is too, do you think we should switch?"
You're smiling, shaking your head.
"No, it's good."
"Do you think the pasta is as good as me?"
"Don't make me answer that."
He chuckles.
"I would say we can just not decide who has to pay and just split it."
"You would say that, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of losing or because you're trying to be a gentleman."
"I'm always a gentleman." He laughs.
He smiles at you and for a second he looks at his hands, before looking up at you.
"I'm not afraid," he says. He takes your hand, and you know you should prepare yourself for something, "your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"
He looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide, a little shy. It's endearing. And it's really adorable. You try to stay serious, to not laugh. But when his face changes from hopeful to worried and then he's trying to pull his hand away, you can't help yourself.
"That was the worst line ever," you say, laughing.
"I don't know if I should be offended? Are you laughing at me?"
"No," you say, still laughing, "actually it's kinda cute just... it's cute, and I can't believe you actually said that. I thought you're going to make me blush with something dirty but you're just being adorable."
"Hey," he says, pretending to be offended. "I'm not adorable, I'm handsome and I'm..."
"Adorable."
"Not."
You're shaking your head.
"Definitely."
He pretends to pout, which makes you laugh even more. And you can see the blush creep into his cheeks.
"I can't believe I'm the loser of this bet," he says, sighing.
"You might be, but you're right, my lips are a little bit lonely. Mind to help out?"
"I can try, not making any promises though," he says, he leans closer, putting his lips on yours, and kissing you softly. You're smiling, and so is he. It's a short kiss, and it's not really enough, but it's still perfect.
When he pulls away, he's looking at you, his eyes full of wonder, his mouth slightly open.
"What?" You ask.
"I just want to savour the moment, I haven't kissed many people lately, and it feels a little strange to have my first real kiss in a while after a bad pick-up line."
You chuckle.
"You can have another one if you like."
He nods and kisses you again.
*_____*
When dinner is over, Thomas walks you home. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He doesn't want the night to end, he likes being with you, and he has a feeling that you might like him too.
He brings you right to your apartment door and kisses you goodbye. It's soft and sweet and you're smiling, leaning into him. He can feel your smile against his lips, and he wants more.
He kisses you a little harder, his tongue flicking out to touch your bottom lip, and then your upper lip. A surprised moan escapes him when you open your mouth, granting him entrance, his tongue sliding over yours. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, his body pressed against yours, and he can feel you against him. Your soft curves, your breasts pressing against his chest, your warmth and the smell of your skin, it's all intoxicating.
When the kiss ends, his lips are tingling. He looks at you, his mouth open and his breathing a little faster.
"You're good," you say, a smile on your lips.
He blushes.
"Thanks," he whispers.
He's leaning in again, kissing your cheek, and then the side of your neck, nuzzling your skin.
"Thomas," you whisper, his name coming out as a sigh.
He likes the sound of it, he wants to hear it again.
"Hmm," he hums, pressing a kiss right under your ear, sucking gently on your skin, his hands stroking your back. And then he pulls back. "I should say goodnight before I do something stupid."
You look at him, and for a moment he's afraid you'll disagree.
"Yeah," you say, sighing. "You're right."
He's glad that you understand, and a little disappointed that you're agreeing to let things progress slowly.
"Thank you for the lovely evening," he says.
"Thank you."
"I hope we can do that again, soon."
"Me too."
You give him a quick peck on the lips, then you're gone, closing the door behind you.
He stands in front of your door for a moment, his hand on the door, smiling.
"Fuck yes," he says to himself, a spring in his step when he gets up the steps to his own flat.
*_____*
After your third date with Thomas he's away for some time but he texts you. The first night he's back, is the night before your holidays and the first night another fire alarm goes off again, it's the beginning of January. You're annoyed, it's freezing cold outside, your flight is early and not even Thomas who's standing there in only his briefs again, with a bowl of pasta, can't make you smile.
"Hi neighbour," he says.
"Hi," you grumble.
He puts the bowl down, walking towards you and taking your hand.
"What's wrong?"
"I've got an early flight tomorrow, and now the stupid fire alarm went off, and..."
Thomas looks at you with guilt in his eyes, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sure the fire department is going to be quick."
"They better be," you say.
You turn around and see the firefighter that you already saw talking to Thomas the last few times. Thomas tries to sneak away, you look at his pasta that all of a sudden looks suspiciously burnt.
"Is this your doing?"
He smiles sheepishly, "maybe."
"Maybe," the firefighter says. "I have a feeling, it might be your boyfriend who's a little bit clueless in the kitchen."
"That's not true, my pancakes are delicious." He says and looks at you for help.
You look at them both.
"Not my boyfriend, not really, and your pancakes were for human consumption but also ... burnt a bit," you say, and the firefighter looks at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, they were horrible, but I didn't burn anything in a while. Just today."
The firefighter sighs.
"This is the sixth time in not even as many months, please order pizza or go to a cooking class, please, for your neighbours sake," he says and you look at him.
"You're really getting a cooking class," you say to Thomas, "this is not negotiable, you can't cook, and everyone's getting fed up with being woken up by the fire alarm. You need a teacher, or someone, just... something. Please."
Thomas sighs, but he agrees.
"Fine."
"Good," you say.
It's not much longer until the building is empty again and the fire alarm is shut off. You walk to your apartment, and Thomas follows you.
"Sorry about the pancakes, and the pasta, and the fire alarm. And the other fire alarms," he says, sighing.
You shrug.
"It's okay, and now that the fire department knows that the fire alarm is set off by an incompetent cook, they hopefully know for future incidents. Now I should sleep, I'm getting up way too early tomorrow."
"Good night," he says.
"Night."
He hugs you, and kisses you, and you're glad to be inside again.
*_____*
The first time you sleep with Thomas is after you're back, the two of you are spending more and more time together, and there is no way you would ever describe it as 'just friends'. You've been flirting with him, and he with you.
Thomas is kissing you passionately. His hands are under your shirt. You're kissing back, trying to keep up with his kisses and his movements. You're in his bed and while you are both still wearing shirts and underwear you feel a little too warm all of a sudden. He is on top of you, kissing down your neck and biting softly, you let out a soft moan.
"Fuck," he whispers.
"What is it?"
"This is embarrassing, but... I might not last long," he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Don't worry about that, I won't be offended," you say, stroking his hair, and kissing his temple. “Feels like a compliment to me.”
"Still."
"It's fine."
He lifts his head, looking at you, smiling, his eyes full of hope and lust. He kisses you again, and starts rubbing against you. The thin layer of fabric is the only thing separating the two of you. You're grinding back, moving together, and it's not long until you're both gasping, and you're holding on to him. His hands are moving, slipping under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down, and then his hands are between your legs. You can feel his fingers on your folds, stroking gently.
"Shit," you breathe, your eyes falling shut.
He's moving, getting between your legs and kneeling on the floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look down at him, watching him, he's licking his lips, and looking at you, his pupils wide. You watch him and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips kissing the inside of your thigh.
He kisses upwards, getting closer and closer, and when his mouth finally touches you, your head falls back, and a moan leaves your mouth. He's sucking and licking, his tongue teasing your clit, his fingers thrusting into you. Your breathing is ragged and fast, your heart is racing, it doesn't take long until the wave of pleasure is crashing down on you.
"God, fuck, Thomas," you gasp, as the orgasm washes over you.
He keeps going, drawing out the pleasure - making you tremble and writhe. When he's finished, you're lying on the bed, breathing hard. He gets up, and gets rid of his underwear, and his shirt, and when he climbs back on the bed, he's naked. He leans down, kissing you.”
"Can I?" He asks, looking at you.
"Yes, please."
He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, you can feel him stretching you, filling you, and you wrap your legs around his waist.
"Shit," he breathes.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, it's just..." he trails off, not finishing his sentence, and he starts to move, his thrusts are slow and gentle.
You can see the expression on his face, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes are closed, and he's moaning, and whispering. His name is on your lips, and you're holding onto him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
His thrusts become faster and harder, his breathing is getting ragged. He's moaning, his hips stuttering. He's groaning and grunting, his body tensing, and his muscles straining, and when he comes, his whole body shakes. He collapses on top of you, his weight resting on you, and his head resting on your chest.
You stroke his hair, and kiss the top of his head, and he's breathing heavily, his eyes closed.
"Sorry," he whispers, after a few moments.
"It's fine."
"It's been a while."
"You can't control these things."
He rolls off of you, and turns his head, his eyes opening.
"I'll make it up to you," he says.
"There's nothing to make up, really. It was wonderful."
"Still," he says.
*_____*
Thomas' birthday is coming up and even though by now he has told his friends and the band about you, he's still nervous asking you to join them for the evening. In the end he doesn't know what he was so worried about, you're excited and happy about the invitation.
Thomas is in the middle of his party, surrounded by friends and family, and you're sitting next to him, with a beer and a slice of cake, and he's happy. You're holding his hand, and occasionally lean over to kiss him.
Victoria is pulling you away from him to dance with you, and he's smiling and laughing as he watches the two of you.
"Good job," she whispers into his ear after she's sick of dancing.
"Thank you!" He has to grin, and then she's gone, and you're back by his side.
"How's the birthday boy doing?"
"Great, now that my girlfriend is back," he says.
You raise an eyebrow.
"Girlfriend?"
"Yes," he says, looking at you, a hopeful smile on his face.
"Okay, boyfriend," you say.
He blushes, and smiles, his eyes are wide but his smile is almost shy. He pulls you in, kissing you softly, and wrapping his arm around you.
"I like that," he says.
"Me too."
*_____*
He drags you into the bedroom as soon as most of the people have left and you can't stop smiling and laughing. Thomas closes the door and turns around to look at you. You're standing there, your hair is a little messy, your shirt is crumpled, and your cheeks are flushed. He can't stop looking at you, and when he doesn't say anything, you take a step forward.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," he says, and closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you, and holding you close.
He starts unbuttoning your shirt, and kisses the skin that's revealed, then pushes the shirt off your shoulders, it lands on the floor, and then his hands are on your breasts, squeezing gently.
You pull his shirt off, and your fingers trail down his sides, making him shudder. His skin is warm, his stomach soft. You push him down onto the bed, he lies back, looking up at you, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged, and his cock hard.
"I've got a surprise for you, birthday boy.”
"Oh yes," he says, his voice hoarse.
"Close your eyes."
He does, and you take some lube from the nightstand, and get out of your skirt and your underwear, and kneel next to him, straddling his thigh. You squeeze some lube into the palm of your hand, warming it up between your fingers.
"Can I look now?" He asks, impatiently.
"Almost," you say, and then your hands are on his cock, stroking him, your thumb brushing over the tip, his hips bucking into your touch.
"Fuck," he whispers, and he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, his eyes still closed.
You start moving, your hand stroking his cock, and he's groaning, his hands are grasping the sheets, and he's arching his back, and thrusting into your hand.
"Fuck, please," he gasps, and you stop.
He opens his eyes and looks at you, his mouth hangs open, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
"That was mean," he says, but the smile on his lips is telling you that he liked it. “Is my surprise only sex or is there more? Like is it edible underwear or something, a costume … oh," he cuts himself off, when he sees the look on your face.
You raise an eyebrow.
"A costume. You'd like me in a costume, wouldn't you?"
He's blushing, and his cock twitches, he doesn't answer, he doesn't has to.
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah," he admits.
You laugh.
"Well, I don't have one now, but if I find one, I might surprise you," you say, “I have something different for you, I want to eat you out and when you’re a whimpering mess, I want to ride you."
"Fuck, yes," he breathes.
"Lie back and relax."
"I can do that," he says.
You lean down and start kissing his chest, nipping and licking his skin. You can feel his heartbeat, his breathing shallow. You're working your way down, kissing his stomach. You take his cock in your hand, and stroke him, and he moans. You kiss further down, getting between his legs, and licking his balls, and then his cock. He's moaning, his hips jerking.
"Oh god, please," he gasps.
You continue, sucking his balls into your mouth, and then moving back. He spreads his legs a little further apart, and lifts his hips, you kiss his thighs, and stroke his cock, your other hand moves between his cheeks, and when your finger brushes over his hole, his hips jerk violently.
"Fuck," he gasps.
"Can I?" You ask.
"Please," he begs.
You're spreading his legs a little more, and kissing the inside of his thighs, and then you're licking his hole, your tongue teasing the tight ring of muscle. He's panting and gasping, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. He's writhing on the bed, his hips moving, and when you push your tongue into him, he's swearing, his hands gripping the sheets.
“Oh god, please don’t stop. Shit, please. Fuck, this is amazing, shit, please, fuck, I want- I need- please, please, please, please," he's babbling, and when you reach between his legs, and wrap your fingers around his cock, his body is shaking, and he's swearing. "Fuck, oh god, please, please, I need you. If you keep fucking me this good," he gasps. “I might just have to marry you.”
Your mouth is still on him but you smile, and you're licking and sucking, your hand is stroking his cock.
For Thomas it feels like minutes, for you, it must have been less than a minute. He's writhing and swearing, and moaning, his breathing is ragged, and his hips are stuttering, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come. He's a mess, his back arched, fingers entangled in your hair.
“You enjoy that?”
"Fuck, yes. Yes. God, yes, please, please, I need you, please," he pants, and his eyes are wide open, looking at you.
"You ready for me, birthday boy?"
"Yes, yes, please," he whispers.
You kneel over him, straddling his waist, guiding him to your entrance. He's holding on to your hips, his eyes squeezed shut. You lower yourself, and when the head of his cock slips into you, the both of you moan. You're moving, taking him in inch by inch, and when he's completely inside you, you're sitting in his lap. You move your hips, riding him, and he's thrusting up into you, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting all the right places. He's groaning, and his fingers dig into your skin.
“That was so good, no one ever did that for me before, I didn't think I'd like it, but fuck, this was amazing," he's talking, and it sounds almost like he's drunk. Drunk on lust and emotions.
You start riding him, your hips moving, and he's thrusting up into you, his moans fill the room, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. The slap of skin against skin is the only sound, apart from his voice.
"Please, don't stop," he's begging, and his words are slurring, his movements becoming erratic. His back arches, his muscles tense, and his body starts to shake, his grip on your hips tightens, and his mouth falls open. "Oh god, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, please, please, please, please, oh god," his voice is hoarse, and then his hips are jerking, and his cock is throbbing and his eyes are squeezed shut, his body is shaking, his nails digging into your skin. He's gasping, and his cock pulses inside of you.
He's panting, his eyes are open, and he looks at you, his gaze unfocused. You lift your hips, and he slips out of you, his hands are resting on your hips, his grip still tight, and his breathing is laboured.
You roll off of him, and lie down next to him. When he reaches for you, you hold him. His body is trembling, and his heart is beating fast. He's breathing hard, and his eyes are closed.
"Wow, that was amazing," he mumbles.
"It was," you say, kissing his temple.
"I need to clean up, give me a second," he says, and he's trying to get up.
"Stay, I'll do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He's smiling, eyes still closed, his head resting on the pillow, and his breathing is getting steadier again. You get up, and walk into the bathroom, and return with a washcloth.
"This was the best birthday present," he says, looking at you. “No candy underwear but you can’t have everything.”
"It was a pleasure."
"What about you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I came long before you.”
"You did?"
"Yes."
He smiles, and closes his eyes. You're cleaning him up, wiping away the sweat, and his come, and his eyelids flutter. You put the washcloth into the laundry basket, and crawl back into bed.
"I'll do something for you, just let me catch my breath," he says, his words are slurred, and his breathing is deep.
"There's no need," you whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He nods, and he's snuggling closer to you before he drifts off to sleep.
"Happy birthday," you whisper, and press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs contently.
*_____*
A couple of weeks later, you're sitting in the dressing room with Victoria after a show. He's sitting on a couch, his legs spread wide, and he's talking to someone. You can't hear what they're saying, but you're watching him. His smile, and the way his eyes light up, the way he talks. The way he moves his hands.
Victoria is next to you, she's watching you, and a smile is playing on her lips.
"You're staring," she says.
"Yes," you answer.
She's grinning.
"Do you need help?" She asks.
"No."
"I know a lot about him."
"I don't doubt it."
"I mean, if you wanted to surprise him," she says, and winks.
“Actually I would need your help,” you smile, “Valentine’s is coming up and I would like to do something. Something a bit romantic, and something a bit, you know, … sexy.”
She's grinning, and her eyes light up.
"Oh yes, I would love to help you with that."
"As long as it doesn’t involve edible underwear,” you laugh.
She looks at you confused.
"No, but why would you think that?"
"Thomas mentioned it. He was curious about it."
"Oh," she grins, "c’mon it would make him laugh. You’re both silly like that. Just do it as an extra little thing, a candy bra and some really nice lace panties.”
“You’re right, if nothing else it would make him laugh, and he would love it. Thank you, Vic, for all the help you gave me and I would be honoured to have your advice and assistance with this."
"So, what do you have planned so far?"
"I'll tell you, but first I need to ask Thomas if he has any plans for the day, because if he does, we have to plan around them."
"Sounds like a good idea," she agrees. “He’s a romantic, so I don’t think he has other than plans he might have come up with already, but I can interrogate him a little bit. So what’s the plan?”
“I want to cook with him at home. You know how he set off the fire alarms a few times when he tried cooking and I figured that we can try it together, and maybe I can help him, make sure that we won't have a repeat performance of those days. Maybe we can do it together, so he will actually learn something, or maybe we'll fail spectacularly together. Light some candles, maybe get a bit wine drunk. And then after dinner, maybe have a bath and then go to bed, have sex, cuddle. Just the two of us, and a nice relaxed evening. No stress, no worries, just us. What do you think?"
"It sounds great," Victoria smiles. "So, what are you going to cook?"
"We never really cooked together before, but I did some research and I found a recipe for a lasagne, that sounds really good. We should be able to manage that. Worst case scenario we’re ending up with take-out.”
“Great, I’ll let you know when I find something out.”
._____.
Later that day, you're in bed, you're naked, and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue is lapping at your wetness. His fingers are inside of you, and he's working his tongue on your clit. You're arching your back, almost grinding against his mouth. He's humming, you can feel the vibrations, and his teeth graze your clit.
His tongue is flat moving down, licking the length of your folds, and he's nipping at the sensitive skin. His fingers are curling and rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, and when his other hand moves from your hip, and his finger brushes over your entrance, your breath hitches.
"Fuck," you gasp.
"That's the plan," he says, his voice muffled.
"Fuck," you say again.
He chuckles and his finger slides into you, his tongue is teasing your clit. His lips wrap around your clit, and he's sucking gently. Your hands are on his head, your fingers running through his hair, and your hips are moving. He's fucking you, his fingers are curling and pressing, and his tongue is stroking and licking, and your body is tensing.
"Thomas, please," you beg.
He doesn't stop, and his finger pushes in and out of you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking, and his fingers are hitting all the right places. You're arching, and your hips are moving, and you can feel the orgasm building up. Your muscles are clenching, your breath hitches, and your toes are curling. You're close, so close, and you're grinding against his mouth, and his finger is still moving inside you.
"Fuck, Thomas," you gasp, and you're coming.
Your body is tensing, and your eyes are squeezing shut, your back is arching. Your muscles clench, and your walls are gripping his finger, and he's still fucking you, and his lips are wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking and sucking. Your hips jerk, and you're shaking, and he just doesn't stop.
He's lapping and licking, and you're squirming, and your hips are bucking, and you're whimpering. His finger is pressing and pushing, and his tongue is lapping and stroking, and your back is arching. He's humming, and your breathing is ragged.
You're tugging at his hair, and you're whimpering.
"Thomas, please, I need a moment, please," you're panting.
He stops, and looks at you, his chin is glistening, and his eyes are dark, and there's a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Are you tired already?"
"Yes, very much, I need a break," you say.
"You'll get one," he says.
He gets up, and moves over you, and your bodies are touching, his weight on top of you, and his cock is hard and twitching against your thigh, and you reach between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around his shaft, and start stroking him. He's groaning, and his head falls forward, and he's burying his face in your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and he's rocking his hips, his cock sliding through your fingers.
He's panting and gasping, and you can feel him throb, his precum is smearing across your stomach. He's thrusting his hips, and his breath is hitching like yours before. He's moving, his hips jerking, and he's pushing his cock into your hand, his body is shaking, and his fingers dig into the mattress.
"Please, I want to come inside you," he moans.
"Do it," you say, and his cock twitches, and you spread your legs a little wider, and guide him between your folds, and he's entering you slowly.
"Fuck," he moans, and his body is trembling.
"You're so wet," he gasps, and his eyes are closed.
You lift your legs, and wrap them around his waist, and he's completely inside you, and he's still for a moment. He's panting, his cock is pulsing, and his muscles are tensing, and he starts moving, his thrusts are shallow, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is hanging in his face. His hands are on either side of your head, and his body is shaking.
"Thomas, look at me," you say.
He looks at you, his eyes are glassy, and his pupils are blown.
"I'm not made of glass, please fuck me."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, please," you beg, and you move, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He starts moving, his movements slow and deliberate, and his breathing is ragged, and his muscles are tense, he's gritting his teeth.
"Harder, please," you moan, and your hips are bucking - matching his thrusts. Your back is arching, and his eyes fall shut, and he's pushing into you, his thrusts are hard.
"Shit, oh fuck," he groans.
“God, so good, Thom, please," you gasp, and his body is trembling.
He's gasping and moaning, and he's leaning down, and kisses you, his mouth is on yours, and he's thrusting into you, his movements erratic, and his fingers are gripping the sheets.
"You're so beautiful," he pants, and his voice is raspy.
He's moving faster, and his cock is sliding in and out of you, his lips on yours, and his tongue is moving against yours. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the pressure inside of you building again. The tension coils in your belly, you're getting closer, and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You're gasping, his name a breathy moan.
"Please, Thomas, please," you beg.
"Please, what?"
"I want to come, I'm close," you moan.
"I know, love, so am I, please, come for me," he gasps. “Come again, please.”
He's moving his hips, his thrusts are fast and hard, and you're gasping and moaning, and his movements become more erratic.
"Shit, I'm close," he moans.
Your muscles clench, and the tension in your belly is too much, you can't hold it any longer. You're coming, your body is shaking, you're crying out, your body is arching, and you're clinging to him. His cock is throbbing and twitching, and his hips are jerking, and he's coming. You're trembling, and his cock is still pulsing, and his body is shuddering, and his face is buried in your neck.
"Fuck," he groans.
"Yes, indeed," you breathe.
*_____*
“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” Vic asks him some days later just after they had dinner together.
“Yes, so I was thinking of taking her to Verona for a day or two. Or maybe go to the planetarium and have a nice dinner afterwards. What do you think?”
“It’s great, Thom. But maybe you should do Verona another time, take her to the planetarium and maybe don’t worry about dinner. Romantic night in, you know.”
“You know something I don’t know, don’t you? Okay, planetarium and romantic night in. Understood.”
She grins and gives him a kiss on the cheek.
._____.
It's Valentine's day and you're sitting on the couch together for breakfast. You made pancakes, edible and not burned. After you finish eating he's kissing you, and his arms are around your waist, his body is warm against yours. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot, and then he's pulling away from the kiss.
"I have a present for you," he says.
"So do I," you smile.
"Me first," he says, and his cheeks are red.
He's taking a little box from the cupboard, and gives it to you, and you open it, and there's a bracelet. A thin, golden bracelet with three charms. A tiny rose, a guitar, and a heart.
"Oh Thomas," you whisper. "Thank you, I love it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
You take the bracelet and put it on.
"It's so beautiful, thank you."
He's smiling, and there's a pink blush on his cheeks.
"And now your turn," he says.
You're going to your room and take a bigger, gift wrapped box, and give it to him, and he sits on the couch next to you opening it. In it is a knitted sweater, he takes it and he smiles. The sweater is pale blue, and has a white pattern of musical notes and stars on it.
"Oh, this is so beautiful," he whispers. “I can’t believe you knitted for me.”
"I'm glad you like it."
"I love it." He gives you a kiss, “and I thought we could go to the planetarium and I was told to have a romantic night in.”
“Yes, the night is my part of the plan.” You smile.
._____.
When you arrive at the planetarium it's almost empty. There's only a group of school children, a couple and a few people that seem to be there just to have a look around, but there's no guided tour and no lectures, so you're wandering around, looking at the exhibits, and watching the different shows while holding hands.
At some point, when the children have left and you're alone in the room, there's a show about the northern lights, and Thomas is staring at the ceiling. His eyes are sparkling, he smiles at you.
"One day I want to see them with you," he says.
"Someday, maybe."
"Yes, someday," he sighs, and smiles.
The lights dim, the show ends, and you're leaving the room. You're wandering through the hall, looking at the displays, and the pictures of the different constellations and galaxies, and stars. You're standing in front of the big picture of the milky way. Thomas is behind you, his arms are around your waist, nuzzling your neck.
“What’s your favourite,” he asks.
"You're my favourite," you whisper back.
"Your favourite galaxy, silly.”
"That would be still you," you say, and he kisses your neck.
"I’m also quite fond of you," he chuckles.
"So, which one is yours?"
"That would be the Orion nebula."
"Why that one?"
"Because of the colours and the beauty, and the fact that it's made from gas, dust and stardust, and the fact that it's a birthplace for stars, that makes it special to me."
You look at him.
“Maybe Ethan talked a lot about space lately and I think it might not be a galaxy, but it is still something related to the universe, so we’ll pretend that it still counts."
He's laughing and kisses you.
._____.
When you are back home and there's music playing, the lights are dim - the candles are flickering.
“I thought we could make lasagne together, have some wine, have a bath and later move to bed, have some more wine and then sleep or do other things."
He laughs.
"That sounds wonderful."
You start cooking together. Chopping, sizzling and at some point there's tomato sauce spilled, and tomato on the wall, and on the kitchen counter.
"Oops, sorry," he laughs.
"It's okay, I'll clean it up," you laugh.
You're cleaning up the mess, and then there's tomato on his face, and on his shirt, and you're still laughing. He's taking the bowl, puts it on the kitchen counter, and moves closer to you. He's leaning in, his lips touching yours, his hands are on your waist. His tongue is pushing against your lips and he's deepening the kiss.
“We should cook first, at least have the ragu sauce cooking,” you say between kisses.
"Yes, that's right," he whispers.
He's smiling and kisses your nose.
"Later," he says and winks, which makes you giggle.
You're making the ragu sauce, he's holding you from behind, his chin is on your shoulder, and his lips are against your neck.
"Do you need a hand?" He asks.
"No, the sauce is fine," you say, and his hands are roaming over your body, his mouth is on your neck, and he's nipping and kissing. His lips are brushing against your ear.
"Thomas, stop, or I won't be able to focus," you laugh.
"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," he chuckles. “Also don’t deny it but I saw that earlier. You checked out my ass when I bent down to take out the wine glasses and the bottle."
You smile and giggle.
"Yes, and I'm not even sorry, it's a really cute butt."
"Thanks, it's a gift from God, and I'm not even kidding."
You laugh and turn your head, your lips brush against his.
"Yes, it is."
He's laughing, and his fingers are digging into your waist.
"I love you," he says, his voice is low. His breath is warm against your skin. And his heart is beating against your back.
"I love you too."
He smiles and kisses you. Thomas’ hands are cupping your face and he's leaning his forehead against yours.
“Can we make out while the things in the pots are cooking and boiling, please, and maybe a bit later?"
You're giggling.
"Yes, I would like that," you say.
His lips are soft. His tongue is licking and sliding against yours, his hands are sliding over your body. Thomas’ touch is gentle. He's lifting you up on the kitchen counter and you're wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Can I touch your cute godsend butt," you ask, and his body is shaking with laughter.
"Yes, yes you can, and I would be offended if you didn't."
You're running your hands over his shoulders, down his back, right to his ass. Thomas’ hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. His lips are sliding along your jaw, down your neck, and he's sucking at the spot just under your ear. His hardening cock is pressing against your core.
"Thom, the sauce will burn," you gasp.
"Right," he whispers, “but it’s not burning yet, let me kiss you some more."
"Okay," and with that he's deepening the kiss again.
His fingers are slipping under your skirt, his thumbs are brushing against the lace of your panties. His hand is sliding between your legs, he's slowly pushing the fabric aside, and his fingers are tracing along your folds, he's circling your entrance. And then his fingers are entering you, his thumb stroking over your clit.
"God, you're so wet," he moans.
"Thomas," you gasp.
"Mhm?"
"The sauce, it's burning."
"Shit," he curses. Then his hand is gone, he steps back and turns off the heat.
"Sorry." He gives you an apologetic little smile.
“Is this how you triggered the fire alarm before, cooking, and getting distracted?"
"Yeah, I tried to make dinner once, and I forgot to stir the sauce, and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring."
“Making out? Or just distracted.”
“Just distracted, I wasn’t making out with anyone, I was alone in the flat, and had no idea why the alarm was going off, I was a little confused. It took a few seconds to figure out it was the food on the stove. Once or twice or maybe … more.”
"I'm not even surprised, and I can relate," you smile, and he grins.
"Sorry," he chuckles, and gives you a kiss, and his lips are lingering, and his tongue is licking against yours, and his teeth are scraping against your bottom lip, and his hands are sliding over your back.
"The sauce is safe now," he whispers, his nose is brushing against yours and his hands are in your hair.
"Let’s put together the lasagne and put it in the oven, then we can make out some more," you suggest.
"That sounds like a good plan," he says.
"Yes, very good plan, I know," you chuckle, his body is warm against yours..
You're finishing the lasagne, putting it in the oven and Thomas is setting the timer.
“Now I want more kisses," he looks at you.
He's kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands are pushing your skirt up, his fingers are pulling down your panties.
"Thom, we should wait until the lasagne is done," you whisper and he groans.
"Just a few minutes, please," he pleads, his other hand is gripping your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.
"Okay," you moan, his thumb is circling your clit not leaving you room to think.
"Thank you," he breathes. “Bedroom, we have a timer anyways. We will hear it, and can continue."
You nod, his hand is gone, and you're stumbling towards the bedroom. Kissing on your way and his hands are sliding under your shirt.
“Oh, is this …” he laughs, “finally what I wished for? Candy hearts in your bra?"
"Maybe," you laugh.
"I love it," he says.
"I thought, since it's valentine's day, and the edible underwear was a bit out of my comfort zone, maybe that’s close enough for you? Or too much? It's weird isn't it, I'm sorry," you say, and he shakes his head.
"No, not weird, I love it, and I'm so glad you did that for me," he says, and pulls away from the kiss. "You know what else I wanted?"
"Tell me," you say.
"This," he says, and sneaks his hand in your bra, and takes one of the candy hearts, and his hand is moving up, and the little heart is touching your lips.
"Open," he says, and you open your mouth, and his hand is moving up, and the heart is in your mouth.
"Now, can I take off the bra?" He asks.
"Yes, go ahead, you can eat the rest of the candy," you laugh, and he's pulling the cup down, and taking a candy heart with his tongue and he's biting it, and then his mouth is on yours.
"Delicious," he chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling.
"Yes, very," you smile.
"You're delicious," he says, and his mouth is on yours, and the taste of the candy and the wine is still on his lips, and his tongue is licking against yours.
His lips are moving along your jaw, and to your neck, and his mouth is sucking and kissing at the crook of your neck.
He's lying down, and you're straddling him, and he's reaching for your bra, and pulls it off. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his mouth is on the valley of your breasts, and his tongue is licking along your sternum, and his teeth are grazing against your nipple.
He's sucking, and his teeth are pinching and his tongue is flicking over the sensitive bud, and you're gasping and moaning.
His mouth is moving to the other breast, and his lips are closing around your nipple, and his mouth is warm and his breath is hot against your skin. He's sucking and his teeth are grazing against your hardening nipple, and his hands are on your back, and they're sliding over your hips.
“I think some of the hearts fell out of the bra," he chuckles.
"I can look for them later," you laugh, and he laughs, and kisses you.
"Yes, we'll find them later, now, can I lick the rest off of your body?"
"Yes, please, and feel free to use your teeth too," you whisper, and his tongue is licking along your neck, and over your collarbones, and his tongue is moving over the swell of your breasts. His teeth are grazing against your nipples, and his lips are brushing against the underside of your breasts, and his hand is cupping the other, and his thumb is rubbing over your nipple, and his tongue is moving lower, and his teeth are biting and sucking.
“Found one,” he says and nibbles it off your stomach.
He's licking lower, and his tongue is sliding along the edge of your panties. His mouth is on the lace, and his tongue is licking along the damp material, and his teeth pulling back the waistband with his teeth.
“I think you missed one.” You pull his head back to your bellybutton.
"Oh, yes," he breathes, and his tongue is swirling, and he's sucking and his teeth are nipping, and the candy is gone.
His hand is cupping your pussy, and his thumb is stroking over your folds through the damp fabric.
"Can I have a taste?" He asks, and his breath is hot against the damp lace, and you're nodding.
"Yes, please."
His hands are pushing the panties aside, and his fingers are brushing along your slit, and he's pushing two fingers inside, and curling them.
He's spreading your legs, and his tongue is flicking over your clit, and he's pushing his fingers deeper, and curling them, and stroking against your g spot.
"You taste so good," he moans. “Better than the candy."
"Yes," you gasp.
"And you're so wet, and hot, and soft."
"Thom," you moan, and his tongue is lapping over your clit, and his teeth are grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Come on my face, please," he moans, and his fingers are rubbing against your g spot, and his tongue is flicking against your clit, and his thumb is pressing down on the swollen bud.
"I'm almost there, don't stop," you moan.
"Good, come on my tongue," he growls, and his fingers are moving faster, and his tongue is licking over your clit. “Let me taste you."
"Yes, yes," you whimper.
"Yes, let me lick your sweet juices, come on," he moans, and his fingers are fucking you, and his tongue is stroking over your clit, and his eyes are fluttering open, and when he looks up at you, you’re tumbling over the edge, and your pussy is clenching around his fingers, and the wave of pleasure is crashing through you.
"Yes, that's it," he breathes. "I love it when you're coming on my face."
"I love it when you're licking me clean," you breathe.
He's laughing, and his mouth is sucking, and his tongue is licking, and he's swallowing your juices, and his tongue is licking into you.
“But now I would love to return the favour,” you’re pulling at his hair, “and taste you too."
He's groaning, and his eyes are shining, and his lips are curving into a smile.
"Yes, please, I would love that."
You're pushing him on his back, and he's lifting his hips, and pulling down his boxer briefs.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Touch me," he says.
"I am, but where do you want me to touch you," you say.
"Anywhere," he moans.
"What about here?" You run a finger over his hipbone.
"Yes," he whimpers.
"And here?" You lick his abs.
"God, yes," he moans.
"What about here?" You circle his cock.
"Yes, please."
"Here?" Your lips are wrapping around his cock, and your tongue is stroking over the crown.
"Fuck, yes," he groans.
"Where else, should I touch you?"
"On my thighs," he breathes.
"Okay," you say, and your fingers are stroking over his inner thigh, and your nails are dragging over the soft skin.
"There, please," he pants.
Your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is swirling over the head.
"Yes, there, God, your mouth feels so good," he moans, and his fingers are in your hair.
Your fingers are stroking over his balls, and over his perineum, and his cock is pulsing in your mouth.
"There too," he whimpers.
You're circling his opening, and his hand is fisting your hair.
"Yes, there," he moans.
Your fingertip is circling his opening, and he's gasping and panting.
"Can I?"
"Yes, God yes," he says, and your finger is pressing into him, and your lips are sucking his cock, and his hips are pushing up.
"Fuck," he curses, and his hand is pulling you back down by your hair and his legs are shaking.
"Are you close?"
"Yes, keep going, I'm so close," he moans, and your finger is pumping into him, and your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is flicking over the head, and his body is trembling.
"Faster, please," he begs, and your finger is curling, and his cock is pulsing, and his hips are thrusting, and his ass is clenching around your finger, and his cock is twitching and his cum is spilling over his belly, and his hand is tugging your hair.
"So good," he whispers.
"Good," you whisper, and his fingers are tracing along your cheek, and you're kissing his belly.
"We should get cleaned up," you say, and he's smiling and his hand is pulling you down for a kiss. “Shit, does it smell burnt in here? Shit, Thom, the lasagne."
"Shit, fuck," he says, and sits up, and gets off the bed, and pulls on his boxer briefs.
He's sprinting to the kitchen, and you're following him, and when he's opening the oven, there's a cloud of smoke coming out. And somehow a little baking paper inferno has formed, and you're not sure what happened, and it's smoking, and Thom is staring at it, and you're turning off the oven.
"I'm sorry, I think I left the baking tray I made pizza on yesterday in the oven, with the baking paper.”
“It’s fine, just open the window before the smoke alarm goes off and the fire brigade is your guest again.”
He opens the window, you put out the tiny flames, and the oven is full of black crumbs. But your lasagne is salvageable.
"It tastes amazing," you say, after the first bite.
"Yes, the sauce is so good," he says, and grins, and his foot is caressing your leg under the table. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow and just cuddle. Maybe we should start our own little tradition.”
“Okay,” you say looking curious.
“How about we make that day of the first fire alarm, when we talked to each other first, our day? Eat pancakes, talk, cuddle, almost burn down the house.
"That sounds perfect," you smile, and he smiles and kisses you.
……
Tag list: Taglist: @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall , @sunlightbabe , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ethaneskin , @maneskin-dimensione , @l0standn0tf0und , @butkutee , @gr8rainbowpunk , @maneskintifoso , @hiraetheral , @imjustanerdwholikestoread , @cuzimitaliano , @hopelessromantic727 , @wonderlandishell , @paralianeyes , @que--sera--sera , @roisinlove123 , @romanoffswoman , @lovelyy-moonlight , @crwnnjules, @lizzylynch1 , @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27 , @soundscuntfeelscunt , @gaiagoddess26 , @lonnybunnys , @lexasaurs634 , @milfhunter889 , @shinshans
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pjisskullourful · 1 year
Text
𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳
🏠 Damiano × reader
NSFW🔥 kinky adultsonly playtime
° Damiano David/female reader insert
° Damiano has been your older brother's best friend for ages, when the two of them go on a roadtrip, he asks for you to water his plants. You discover & decide to explore his draw full of sex toys. But when he finds out, how will he react?
wordcount:: 9,132
° inspired by this spicy audio ° shoutout to my cellmate ida (@superchrystaldrug )💋 for helping me figure out how this should end& being so encouraging
° [ITA]: grazie al cazzo: no shit [c/o this post] - cristo: christ - sfigato: dork
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"Thanks again for house-sitting. I should recommend you to all my friends, all of my plants are still alive and there's no visible signs of any kind of partying happening behind my back." Damiano said, returning his set of spare keys to their spot in a kitchen drawer.
You rolled your eyes. "There's no signs of a party because I didn't have a party."
"Right, you're a very responsible, great house-sitter. In fact, I'd be more than happy to write a reference letter for you to attach to your little resumé."
"Cool, that'll give my career the shot in the arm I've been waiting for." You said sarcastically.
"Can I ask you something about my bedroom?" He asked, making you freeze, your palms starting to sweat. "I don't want you to feel embarrassed or anything like that, and I'm not mad and I'm certainly not going to tell anyone, ever. It's just that I noticed that things weren't exactly as I left them. Not to get too Goldilocks has been sleeping in my bed, or whatever.
"But I would really like to get to the bottom of this, so if you could just come with me…"
Your eyes grew wide as you watched him beckon you closer with a curling of his finger. "Come with you, to your bedroom?"
"Yeah, just for a second. Unless you have plans…"
You visualised yourself telling him that you did have plans - plans to flee the scene, like a criminal. But you didn't, silently nodding and falling into step behind him, leaving the kitchen.
Your stomach was twisting. You had never felt this nervous around him - your older brother's best friend, Damiano had been in your life for three years. He was present at parties, if your brother couldn't pick you up from the airport, then Damiano would step in. He had been around to play video games with and develop some inside jokes with.
When he had asked you to house-sit while they went on a road trip, there had been no reason to say no. On the surface, it seemed to be within the parameters of your friendship by association. It hadn't seemed weird.
Until now.
You followed him into the bedroom, where you had spent some time during his absence. It had been more than watering the burgundy begonia sitting in the corner.
"How about you take a seat on the bed?" He gestured to the bed, which was perfectly made.
You sat down at the very edge of the bed, feeling the tension in your legs. You clasped your hands together and held them between your thighs. You looked in his direction, but you were unwilling to meet his eye, instead looking at the shoulder of his faded band tee.
"A lot of people don't know this about me, typically they assume the opposite, actually. And that's how neat and tidy I am. I'm chaotic when I'm on stage and out in the world and that's a part of my personality. But I'm also a damn control freak, I'm particular.
"This chick that I used to date, she said that I would have organisational orgasms, because I would get so excited to get everything organised and ordered and sorted into its perfect place. It started in the kitchen, you know cooking is quicker and easier when you know exactly where everything is. And it spread out through the rest of my home, through the rest of my possessions.
"I don't think that there's anything wrong with having my home set up that way, do you?" 
"Um, no, I…" You had to pause to clear your throat, showing him a weak smile as your confidence in how well you could act normally shrunk down. With each passing second, you grew more-and-more certain of what he was leading to and it consistently filled you with more dread. "I think that Marie Kondo would be very proud of you."
He laughed, leaning against a chest of drawers. "Right. So, all of this is to say that I know exactly how I left my bed when I left for that roadtrip, I know that I had made it properly, sheets pulled up, tucked in, all that. I also know how the things in this draw were laid out…" He opened the third draw from the top and you gulped audibly. 
Was this the moment where you started to apologise profusely? Should you grab your phone out of your pocket, pretending to receive a call? Did you rush out, suddenly remembering very important plans? Could you continue to feign ignorance?
Looking through people's belongings was your worst habit, you got too curious and wanted to know what was kept in their freezer, or the medicine cabinet. Your voyeuristic side grew too strong to resist and, with no one else around, you wanted to see how the wardrobe was ordered. There were secrets and, for the sake of your own satisfaction, you had to uncover them.
You hadn't been expecting what you saw in the third draw, you hadn't seen anything like that in a home before. It was akin to something one would see in a particular shop - the kind that you had never quite mustered up the courage to go into.
"There's a running order in my mind, so the draw logically follows that…" He said, glancing briefly at the contents within, but mostly looking at you. "...the lube is at the front, then there's condoms, and other obvious essentials.
"The magic wand sits about halfway back, behind a few things, but not entirely at the back. Or at least it did, 'til I went on my road trip."
You sat in silence, feeling dread sinking into your stomach as your heart raced. You still couldn't figure out what to say, what did he want to hear?
"But now it's pushed right to the back, almost as if someone wanted to hide it." He said.
"I'm sorry, I really am. It's a total invasion of privacy and I shouldn't have done it. And I'm sorry that I did and there's literally no excuse for it. I was here to water your plants and there was no need for me to go into that draw and I'm sorry. And Damiano, it will never happen again." You said, feeling uneasy, despite the absence of irritation on his face.
"So, why were you in this draw?"
"I- I looked through all of your stuff. Not to judge you or take anything, I swear. I just wanted to see." You said. "It was really wrong of me, I was actin' like the main character in a Pokémon game, just going in to any house I like and going through it all, because I could."
"This draw was the only one where things were moved." He said. "If you hadn't said that, I would've assumed you only looked through the things in this room. And I promise, I'm not mad. It's definitely unsettling, and probably if it were anyone else, I would be livid. But it's you- sweet, little, harmless, innocent you.
"I had assumed that you had a date or something and you were too embarrassed to go and buy condoms for yourself. So you were here and you figured you could steal one or two from me, no big deal. And the bedroom is the obvious place to look."
"Oh, no. I'm just really criminally nosy." You said, finally bringing yourself to meet his eye, even as your cheeks felt scorching hot.
"Did you like what you found?"
There was a twitch in your pussy, a physical reaction to a memory that felt far too close for comfort. "Um…"
“Clearly, it warranted a deeper look than the rest of my possessions, so I’m just wondering if there was something that you saw, that you liked.” He said. “Does it differ from your toy collection at home?”
“I- um…” Your throat was locked, there was nothing to say.
But he was already wearing a knowing smile, tilting his head back a little as he continued to watch you, reading you in your silent state. His tongue appeared out from behind his teeth, the tip touching to the corner of his mouth. “You do have your own sex toys, right honey? I know that I tease you and call you stuff like little girl, and make fun of you for not being old enough to buy alcohol, ‘cause you’re the kid sister of my best friend. But that’s just playing around, I know that you’re old enough to buy your own alcohol, buy your own sex toys- you’re a grown-up, you can do whatever you want. I’m sure you’ve got your own stuff, you wouldn’t need to borrow from someone else.”
“I should go…” You put your hands down on the bed, beginning to boost yourself up. “I’ve got no milk at home and I need…” You were out of breath as you stood up. “I gotta get to the shops before they close, because, um, they close so damn early on the weekends, and- um…”
Before you could get to the door, he had moved over, closing it. “No, I want you to stay here and be honest with me. Because I know you and I know that this isn’t how you usually act, it makes me think that you’re hiding something. So I’m gonna ask you a question and I would appreciate an honest answer.” You backed away from him a few steps. “Don't you think that you owe it to me? You looked through my things, an unfiltered look at my life, so I should get an unfiltered answer, right?"
"I-..."
"Please." He said, his voice soft as he placed a hand on your arm, to hold you at the wrist. It was a gentle gesture, but his intention was commanding enough to earn your obedience. "Can I ask you from one friend to another?"
You curled some hair behind your ear as you pondered on how this type of conversation would come up with literally none of the other friends you had in your life. But there were a lot of things about your friendship with Damiano that made it completely unique - you had seen him naked when a game of Truth or Dare at your brother's housewarming party had led to him skinny dipping. On more than one night out, he had saved you from creepy guys, by pretending to be your boyfriend. None of your other friends had given you impromptu pole dancing lessons.
"Yes."
"Did you play with yourself in here, on my bed?" He asked.
You dropped your eyes to the ground. "Yes." He inhaled sharply, as if this wasn't what he had expected. "But it was only one of the toys. I swear, it was only the wand and nothing else, Damiano." He was silent and you feared his judgement. "And when I was, uhm, done, I wiped it over with these antibacterial wipes I keep in my handbag. I made sure- I made sure it was totally clean before I put it back."
"Did you have fun?"
"I-..."
"'Cause, you know, once I figured out what had happened, once I put the picture together- it got me hard." He said and you raised your eyes slightly. "It was a sexy, naughty little picture for me to have in my head, honey. It wasn't what I was expecting, but once it was in my head, I couldn't get it out. Thinking about you and all the sounds you were making, wondering if you got totally naked to do it, wondering how you squirmed as you came, wondering about how long it took you to recover after.
"And that was a lot of fun for me, that I couldn't help myself. And I had to play with myself, just at the idea of you being so damn naughty in my bed. But I didn't need any of the toys, thinking of you was enough."
"Are you-..." You cleared your throat, getting lost in a flurry of emotions. "You're, like, messing with me, right? This is some weird mind game to get back at me for touching your stuff, right? Okay, ha-ha, we're even, or whatever."
"I'm not joking." He said. "That would be a shitty joke. I was genuinely curious, and very genuinely aroused. Why do you think I would joke about that? Do you think you're not worthy of someone thinking you're sexy, of someone wanting to fuck you? Has a man never made you feel as gorgeous and fuck-able as you are?"
"You think I'm-"
"Yes." He cut in. "You're really doing a shitty job at answering my questions. If you don't wanna talk about this, we don't have to anymore, you can go and get your bread, and this can just go out of our brains and we can go back to normal." 
He moved out of your personal space, going over to sit down on the bed. Your mind was whirring, trying to register all of this information, and at the same time attempting to figure out how to proceed from here. You knew that if you left, these thoughts wouldn't slow down. You were certain that in the silence of being alone, your thoughts would only multiply, getting louder and leading to frustration because the closure didn't lie within you.
You turned to him and shrugged your shoulders. "Okay, ask me and I'll answer you, I'll do-... We can talk about this."
"Great, that would be great, if you could please satisfy my curiosity." 
"I'll do my best." You said, doubting that his curiosity was greater than yours right now.
"How did you like it compared to your own toys?"
"Well, I- uh, I don't have anything like that, so there's not much to compare it to. Apples and oranges, you know?"
"But you have toys of some kind, right honey?" He asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you.
"I have a little vibrator, like, it's called a bullet, or something. So it's not even half the size of yours. But I don't really use it that much, because it doesn't have an in between setting- it's either really light, or it's too fucking intense. Plus, when I turn it up, it rattles, like the battery inside of it gets jiggled around and it's not exactly a sexy sound and it kind of ruins the mood."
"Are you saying that your vibrator is killing your vibe?"
You laughed, the noise coming out at a higher pitch than you were used to. "Yeah, I guess I am saying that."
"The way that you explained that- first of all, it's a little depressing. Second of all, can you get yourself off with that?" He asked.
"I-..." You tucked some hair behind your ear, shifting your weight.
"You can tell me, you know that, right?" He said and you got the courage to meet his eye as you bit into your bottom lip. "Hey, who's the guy who never rats you out as the imposter and literally gaslights other players to cover for you when you are venting like an idiot?"
A small smile was brought to your face as you thought back to the marathon sessions of playing Among Us with him, chatting over Discord the whole time. You had taught him how to play the game and he had quickly picked it up, finding ways to tease you. Your brother refused to play with the two of you, infuriated by the mind games. Renardo didn't understand your inside jokes, clueless and out of step with how the two of you communicated.
"You- you're the guy."
"So, you can trust me, can you not?" He made a subtle shift, gesturing to the space on the bed beside him.
You sighed, trying to push through the discomfort. "I haven't- not with the bullet- I… no, the bullet hasn't gotten me off. When I use it, I don't usually… if I wanna get off, I put it aside, so that I can do… um, other stuff…"
"Okay, have you considered buying something different? If you don't feel comfortable doing something like that, I could help. It might be weird, but it could take some of that intimidation out of the whole thing." He said, sounding very reasonable. "Let me ask you this, did you get off when you were playing with my toy?"
"God." The word was almost lost in your groan and you tried to hide behind your hand. Your cheeks were burning, you thought you had never been a brighter shade of red in your entire life. "Yes, I did."
"That's fantastic, honey." He said. "So we just need to get you a magic wand of your own. Do you wanna show me how you used it? Because while you enjoyed yourself, I do have a fraction more experience with it, I could show you its full potential."
"Oh, that is definitely not necessary." You said.
He had gotten up, heading over to the chest of drawers. "You're right, you should probably go, so you can get to the shops in time to buy your- what was it that you needed again, pasta, pastry?"
"Bread."
He had the vibrating wand in his hand as he closed the drawer, looking at you with one eyebrow cocked. "Actually genius, you said it was milk to begin with. What are you so afraid of?"
"I'm not-... This is just… it's…"
"Exciting, thrilling, getting you wet just to think about, stimulating, intoxicating, intriguing?" He offered. "If you could indulge my curiosity a little bit longer, only if you're comfortable with it… what were you thinking about when you were using my toy to get yourself off, lying on my bed? Because I told you that I thought about you while I was getting off, so fair's fair- who did you think about? Was it an ex-boyfriend, someone from work?"
"There aren't- I mean, I don't have any ex-boyfriends to think about, so let's just drop that idea…"
"I thought you… hang on, honey.” He said, his brow now furrowed as he was attempting to figure something out in his head. “You’ve had boyfriends, I swear that I’ve met at least one of them. No, for real, I remember there was a guy you brought to Ren’s New Years Eve party. And you two were holding hands and looking kind of cosy.”
You shook your head. “That was just a date. I think I saw him, like, two times after that. And then he ghosted me.”
“What? That’s so bullshit.” He said. He wasn’t able to keep his hands still as he spoke, which wasn’t unusual for him. But with the large sex toy in hand, all of his gestures were exaggerated and it was getting distracting. “You’re not the kind of girl that gets ghosted, how dumb was that guy? You don’t deserve to be ghosted. You deserve a guy who is proud to be your boyfriend, and wants… What are you smiling about? Are you literally about to start laughing?”
You hid your mouth behind your hand. “Sorry, I just- you’re being really lovely, but it’s, like, impossible to take you seriously while you’re waving that thing around.”
“You’re so easily distracted by it, aren’t you little girl?” He said, smiling as he approached where you were sitting.
“Shut up, you’re literally waving it around. It’s the motion that’s catching my eye, that’s all.”
“That’s all.” He echoed, sitting down on the mattress with you. “So if I stopped waving this vibrator around, you wouldn’t have any reason to keep staring at it? I’ll just hold it still and you won’t get distracted. I’ll hold it right here…” It looked totally innocent, the way he rested the toy against his leg.
Perhaps it looked too innocent to him as well. Because less than a minute later he was lifting the wand, moving it into your personal space. He rested the head of it on your shoulder, prompting you to roll your eyes.
“Damiano…”
“What, is this still distracting you?”
“Grazie al cazzo.” You said.
He was grinning, he was easily the most mischievous person you had ever known. And the more that you reacted, the more fun he would have. But he would stop if you said the word, you had never known him to take a joke too far.
But you couldn’t make yourself say the words to stop him in his tracks.
“But it’s a good distraction, don’t you think?”
Before you could respond, he had switched the vibrator on, letting the head pulse against your shoulder. You flinched, caught off-guard and feeling your cheeks heat up again. You lowered your eyes, shifting a little where you sat.
With complete control of the toy, he started to roll it down, twirling the handle as he guided it to the back of your shoulder. He eased it down your back as he leaned in closer. You couldn’t deny that this felt nice, it made you want to relax, it made your nerves easier to tolerate.
“I wonder if it’s a good distraction now…” He said, bringing the vibrating head down to the small of your back. “But it probably felt so much better the way you were using it.” He gently pressed it into your skin, the rhythmic motions practically kneading your muscles. “I would never ghost you, you’re too important to be treated like that.
“Honestly, that guy made a terrible mistake- like, the worst call of his life. And now he’s deprived himself of getting to know an amazing girl. All this beauty, wit, downright sassiness, intelligence, creativity, loyalty, wrapped up in one gorgeous package. And his only response was um no thanks? He’s a moron…”
You could feel your heart fluttering as you dared to meet his gaze. “I bet you say that to all the girls you use this toy on.”
“I understand that you think I’m a player, or maybe you go further than that and I’m a fuck-boy in your books.” He said. “But you are so important to me that I would only treat you with the most care, to remind you what a precious thing you are. I would take such great care of you. Would you let me take care of you?”
“In what way?” You asked, feeling a little embarrassed to do so, as if you were stupid because you couldn’t decipher all this innuendo.
But he didn’t look at you like you were foolish. He simply lifted the toy off of your back. He kept it on a low setting as he placed it at the inside of your upper-thigh, making your throat clench. “In the fun, most thorough way possible. We could fuck and I could show you how the wand is used, all of the fun ways. And I wouldn’t stop ‘til every whim, every curiosity, every little fantasy is satisfied, so that you feel taken care of, in quite literally every sense. Is that something you would like, honey?”
“I’m-... I’ve never done-... um, I’m a virgin.”
He tucked some strands of hair behind your ear. “That’s not what I asked.”
“Right, um…” You felt him easing the vibrator higher up your leg and that made finding the right words even more difficult.
You could feel his breath on your cheek when he spoke next. “I don’t wanna do anything that you don’t like, I just wanna take really good care of you.”
There was an ache in your pussy, the rhythm of the toy bringing back memories. And everything was feeling all the more intense due to his presence imposing on you, you couldn’t forget that he was there. 
He was there, just as he had been in so many other instances. There to offer you his hoodie when you had forgotten yours on bonfire night. There to compliment you on the makeup you had spent some extra time applying. There to laugh at your joke when seemingly no one else at the party understood what you were referencing.
Your nerves were turning into a different kind of energy. Now it was excitement pumping through your system. And you let it inspire your next move, choosing actions over words.
You closed the gap between you and him by kissing him. It was tentative at first - a close-mouthed peck that could be cut off at any time.
But then he put his free hand up to your cheek, drawing you in and you gave in to the moment. You sank in, pressing your body against his, no longer holding back and still. You felt butterflies in your stomach as his tongue swiped along your lips.
You tilted your head as you let your lips part, feeling his tongue confidently glide into your mouth. He had put his hand to the side of your neck, while the other kept the wand in place. Had he started to press it into you harder, or was this a trick of your own building sensitivities?
You couldn’t contain the surprised gasp when he put the activated head on your crotch. You broke away, needing a moment to compose yourself. Over your jeans, the vibrations weren’t as powerful as you had experienced them at. But the stakes were raised by all of these new aspects - the atmosphere you found yourself in made everything feel all the more titillating. He was speeding you through the stages of arousal.
When your eyes fluttered open, you found that he was still wearing that wicked grin. He was licking his lips, giving you some confidence that you were pleasing to him.
“Do you wanna show me how you used this on yourself?” He asked, the twinkle in his eyes was impossible to look away from.
“Okay.”
You replaced his hand with your own on the vibrator, switching it off because you still had more of the scene to set. You put it to the side and started to unbutton your jeans. You got to your feet, pushing the denim off of your hips.
There was something about the way that he was watching your every move that made you smile. It made you feel bolder.
You stepped out of your pants, hyper aware of the fact that you were crossing the line - moving out of the territory of friends in a way that could never be undone. But you didn’t feel intimidated by that. Instead of wanting to turn back, you couldn’t help thinking that the two of you should have crossed this line sooner.
“What can I do for you?” He asked, reaching out for you with both hands.
“Just- don’t talk down to me, please.” You said. “I know that we joke around a lot about which one of us is dumber. But if you were to be condescending right now, even as just a joke, I think I would literally die.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And please don’t call me bunny or kitten, or anything like that.” You said.
“You got it. Is there anything you think you would like to be called?” He asked.
You ran your fingers over the hem of your T-shirt. “I guess that I like it when you call me honey, it makes me feel precious, or whatever, and it’s just sweet.”
“Alright. And maybe I could call you something encouraging, like good girl. Oh wow, look at your eyes light up. You definitely like that- don’t you, good girl?” He asked. You nodded, smiling as you curled the bottom of your shirt up in your hands and began to pull the garment up. “Oh, are you getting even more naked?” You dropped the shirt and reached for the clasp of your basic bra. “All the way naked?”
You shrugged your shoulders, finding you didn’t care much of your body being exposed to him. There was a certainty in you as you kept going, taking your underwear off. You were being guided by a sense of safety in this moment you were occupying with him. “Yeah. Why- is that not how you pictured me doing it?”
“Well yeah, you were naked when I was picturing it.” He said, his eyes growing wider as you approached. “But I’ve got a bit of a wild imagination.”
You sat down next to him again, with him turning to look at you - to look at all of you. You didn’t immediately pick up the vibrator, you weren’t feeling motivated to focus purely on the sex toy again. Instead you took a pause, paying attention to how he was acting now that you were naked. You let the focus land on the tension building between the two of you.
The anticipation was thick in the air as you leaned in, kissing him. Your eyes fluttered shut to the sound of his quick, excited inhale. He put a hand to your cheek, drawing you in deeper, while his other hand went to rest on your hip, his thumb gently stroking across your bare skin. You placed a hand to the back of his neck, wondering if this was a similarly sensitive area for him. Your fingertips drew patterns on his skin as you moved in closer.
“You still haven’t told me what you were picturing while you were using it.” He pointed out. “I don’t know how long I’m gonna be able to call you a good girl if you keep being so evasive.” 
“I-...” You looked away from him, picking the toy up. “I wasn’t clearly picturing anything. It wasn’t like I had a porno playing out in my head, or anything.” You moved your fingers across the ridges on the wand’s handle, watching this as you tried to organise your thoughts. “I could smell you on the sheets- not in a gross, dirty way. So I guess that you were kind of on my mind. But I wasn’t imagining that it was you instead of the toy. Or, like, how you might get turned on by what I was doing. I was just thinking about me and paying attention to how my body was reacting to the toy- to figure out what I liked and…”
“And…” He echoed as he added his own hand to the toy. He pressed the button to activate the vibrations again. “What did you like?”
You looked up, smiling when you met his gaze. You licked your lips as you readjusted your hold on the vibrator, assuming the more dominant grip before you moved, crawling up from the foot of the bed. You laid down on your back, finding his eyes on you as you placed your head upon his pillow. You parted your legs, propping one of your knees up.
Unlike your last time in this place, you didn’t immediately shut your eyes. You saw the way that he was watching and you started to lower the vibrating bulb down to your crotch. Your breath caught in your throat when you touched the toy to your clit, squirming a little. Your muscles twitched as you felt the beginnings of that warmth radiating out from your pussy - a warmth that was only known in solitude.
He eagerly leaned forward, leaving you respectfully untouched, while also trying to get the best view possible. His lips were parted, not because he was on the verge of saying something - that was an expression of his that you were very familiar with. The way that he currently looked at you was an expression atypical of the Damiano you had known for years. He was speechless, still, concentrating and wide-eyed with a very curious kind of surprise.
He was giving you the space that you needed to explore. But you couldn’t forget that he was there. His presence made your palms sweat, it made your heart pound as your thoughts travelled down paths, wondering after conclusions that were different to what you were used to.
You raised the vibrations to the next level, snagging your lip between your teeth as you started to move the activated head against your clitoris. His eyes quickly moved over your body. Nothing escaped his notice - from the bright blush on your cheeks, to the way your stomach rapidly rose-and-fell, and to the little rocking action you guided the toy with.
He moved very slowly, as if you were a skittish animal he needed to avoid startling, he laid down alongside you. He laid on his side, one elbow keeping him propped up. His head lined up with your belly as he continued to watch, completely captivated.
Your back tensed as you kept working the vibrating head in little waves. You were getting greedy, switching up to the next level of intensity. Your hips started to lift a little, small and slow thrusts as the pressure on your clitoral hood increased. Your eyelids fluttered shut as the warmth in your pussy translated into dazzling tingles that swarmed your body.
Your unoccupied hand laid beside you on the mattress and he picked this up. Instantly you squeezed his hand as his thumb gently caressed over your skin.
“Good girl.” He cooed and you smiled as you opened your eyes again. “You look really amazing, did you know that?”
“Thank you.” You said, keeping the vibrator working between your labia majora.
“Would it be weird if I- and please, feel free to say no if you think it would make you uncomfortable. But I, if it’s okay with you, would like to get a bit more naked.” He said.
Your heart was beating a little faster as you nodded. “I think it would be weird if you didn’t get more naked.”
He smiled at that, sitting up on his knees to take his shirt off. Playing it cool was a thing of the past for you now, with your excitement getting too powerful to hide. You watched him undoing his jeans, so eager that you were holding your breath a little.
Despite the way his erection pushed against the fabric, he didn’t take his briefs off. You wondered if he was trying to avoid intimidating you, or potentially to avoid distracting you.
He sat down next to you, picking your hand up in his again. “What did you do next, good girl?”
“Um, well, I…” You paused to laugh bashfully. “I kind of need both of my hands for that.”
He quickly kissed you on the back of your hand before releasing his hold on it. “By all means.”
You took the wand to the next level of vibrations, feeling how swollen your clitoris had become. You extended the middle finger on your other hand as you reached down, seeking your entrance out with the tip of your finger. You gasped in a quick breath as this finger slowly disappeared into your pussy. You squeezed your eyes shut, doing your best to control the pleasure so that you could work these stimulators effectively.
“Cristo, you’re so sexy.” He whispered as you stroked your finger in-and-out of your dripping cunt. “I just wanna kiss you.”
You whimpered. “So kiss me, then.”
He moved down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss. You writhed up, your body becoming overrun with tremors. He placed one hand on your cheek, with the other going to your shoulder. As he moved down closer, the heat of his skin on yours was scorching hot and you hungered for more. Your cunt ached with need as you kept working that finger between your tender walls.
“Oh, fuck.” You whined, rendered breathless at the moment.
He stroked his fingers through your hair. “You know, we didn’t talk about what you wanna call me, my good girl.”
You kept slowly pumping your hips, you were unable to decide upon a tempo to commit yourself to. But you were too desperate to hold yourself still. “I, um…”
“You’re not allowed to call me dumbass like you usually do.” He said.
“Uhm, I… well, what if I…” You trailed off, giggling self-consciously. “Is it weird if I wanted to call you daddy?”
He smiled. “No, why would that be weird?”
“I just haven’t- I really like the way that it sounds. But I’ve never called…”
He rubbed his thumb over your lower lip. “You’ve never had a daddy before, and that’s okay.”
You nodded your head, grateful words didn’t immediately come to mind, right now your mind wasn’t a very coherent place. He didn’t require any more words from you, instead he resumed kissing you. You could feel your inner-walls spasming around the consistent strokes from your finger.
“Is that wand giving you a hand cramp, or anything?” He asked.
“I think it’s okay.” You said - probably because you were too distracted by pleasure to notice any of the negatives right now.
“Are you sure?” He asked and you stilled your wet finger, taking a moment to read between the lines of what he was saying. “‘Cause if your hand is getting tired, I can hold the wand for you.”
You smiled, a crinkle forming on the bridge of your nose. “I’m feeling like maybe you just wanna hold it.”
He didn’t deny this, his face remaining close to yours as he continued to run his fingers through your hair. “Maybe you’re right. So, can I?”
“Yeah, but don’t turn it up any higher.” You said. “‘Cause that’s probably gonna make me come. Is that what- do you want me to come?”
He didn’t rush you through the hand-over of the vibrator, easing his fingers into where you had just been holding. He refrained from pressing any of the buttons. “Yes, very much so.” He kissed you slowly. “But I’d rather be the one that makes you come, not the toy.”
“Yes Daddy.” You replied.
“Fuck, you were right, that does sound good.”
He closed the distance between the two of you by initiating more kisses. You were moaning against his lips as he worked the wand on your clitoris, letting you feel hints of more pressure in the careful motion of up-and-down. With gradual strokes, he kept the vibrator moving in a way that made you feel like you could melt. Your heart was racing, but he wasn’t, taking his time to let you feel exactly what this vibrator could do.
You let your jaw grow slack when you felt his tongue caressing your lips, granting him access to the inside of your mouth again. You put your hand up to the side of his head, feeling his silky hair slide between your fingers. You tilted your head, savouring the thorough massage on the roof of your mouth.
You moved your finger slower inside of your pussy. Because he, and his wand, were doing most of the work. You could feel the pleasure radiating out from this point of contact, a luxurious sensation that was having a wide-spread effect.
It bested the experience you had when using it previously (easily a superior enjoyment than anything you had ever gotten from your bullet vibrator). It was more than a wet cunt and a tightening of the muscles in your legs. It was the way your heart wouldn’t quit its fluttering. It was the way whimpers were constantly bubbling up from your chest. It was the way your hands were sweating. It wasn’t just nice tingles in your pussy, it was little dancing stars in your eyes. It was the way your mind didn’t wander, you didn’t question if you were doing it right, because your whole body was burning for release, beyond anything you had known before.
Even when he took the vibrating bulb away from your pussy, your body continued to pulse with that aroused energy. He was lifting the vibrator away from your crotch as you slowly opened your eyes. You watched him turn the device off, raising it up to hold in front of his face. He looked at it carefully, turning it around to consider all of the angles.
Before you could ask if he was trying to find something specific, he had opened his mouth and extended his tongue toward the stilled toy. Your eyes grew wide as he licked the head of the toy, collecting your essence off of it. A tremble raced through your body as he moaned out his approval.
“That tastes so good.” He said. “That tastes like a good girl ready to come. Or am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not wrong.”
He kissed you before he sat up, beginning to move away. “I’m gonna get a condom. Do you think you could keep fingering that pussy for me?” You nodded your head. “Yeah? How about you add a second finger for Daddy? We’re gonna need to get you a bit looser for me.”
“Okay.”
You put your index and middle finger together, sliding them into your cunt. You let your attention move away from the wand, not needing it as you slowly worked your fingers in-and-out. You lifted your head from the pillow to watch him go over to the chest of draws and he opened the third.
You blushed when he took off his underwear, facing the bed as he unwrapped the condom. You couldn’t help it, your eyes went straight to his dick. Your heart skipped a few beats as you watched him covering his length with the latex, your mind racing with ideas of how it would feel to have that inside of you.
In return, his eyes were fixed on your cunt. As he walked back over to the bed, he appeared almost transfixed by the way you stroked between your walls.
When your eyes next met, you released a breath that you hadn’t realised you had been holding. He rejoined you on the bed, sitting down alongside your body as his eyes studied the expression on your face.
“Are you okay?” He asked. “Because we don’t have to do anything that you don’t wanna.” You reached your unoccupied hand up, rubbing his arm as you listened to his carefully selected words. “I need you to know that. I asked you to show me how you used the wand and you did, and that was great, very sexy. And we can leave it at that, if you want.”
You gripped his arm, seeming to stall this train of thought. “I want to keep going. I want more.” You swallowed audibly. “I’m just kinda worried that-”
He placed his finger to your lips. “It’s okay, I don’t want you to worry.” He laid down with you. “I’m gonna take care of you, just like a daddy should.” He eased in closer, kissing you. “I’m gonna take absolutely amazing care of you.” You moaned as his next kiss lingered, his tongue teasing at your lips. “Do you think you could take those fingers out? Yeah, do you wanna put those in my mouth and give Daddy a little taste as I…” This sentence was completed with an action, him climbing on top of you.
You had taken your fingers out of your sensitive cunt, depositing them into his open mouth. He wrapped his lips around them, gently sucking as he settled his body on top of yours. You shifted your legs, trying to find the most comfortable way to lie. You understood that your newfound shortness of breath wasn’t caused by his body weight on your chest - this was related to the look in his eyes as he stared down at you.
He finished cleaning your fingers, tilting his head as he came in closer to your face. You began kissing him again, tasting your cunt, almost as if he were wearing flavoured lip gloss.
You wrapped your arms around him, your hands getting to explore his bare skin fully. You were aware of his dick and the way it distinctly pressed against you. It was very exciting to have it so close, but you took your time to enjoy more of his body. As his tongue glided into your mouth, your fingers sought out those muscles you had found yourself staring at on numerous occasions.
Gaps began to distinguish one kiss from the next, with him taking these pauses to look you over. Eventually, it dawned on you that these were more than lustful gazes, a question was hanging in the air between you.
Silently, you nodded your head - giving your consent to the request he seemingly didn’t have words for.
You captured his lips in a kiss, trusting him to guide you into this next phase. You trembled as he trailed his fingers down your sides, bringing his hands to your hips. As he kissed you, he gently pushed on your hips, encouraging you to tilt them to a new angle. At the same time, you felt his body shifting as he began to line himself up.
Your hands went to his shoulders and you rested your forehead against his as you tried to catch your breath. There was electricity in the air.
“Good girl.” He murmured and your pussy twitched as his tip pressed into you. “You’re such a good girl.”
He gasped and your hands clenched onto him as he began to bury his cock inside of you. Gradually, you were filled up, your jaw dropping open as you adjusted to this new level of intensity.
“Oh my God.” You whispered, eyes squeezed shut as his hips met yours. You arched your back, your next exhale leaving your lips as a moan.
“Cristo…” He breathed, stroking the backs of his fingers across your cheek. His other hand went to the pillow, helping to brace himself. “You feel amazing.”
When you opened your eyes, you found that he was staring down at you. He was watching you with that careful look, as if he didn’t want to miss even the smallest parts of your reactions. He wasn’t grinning or looking as if he was on the verge of cracking any jokes.
You licked your lips and released your hands from his shoulders. You moved your hands up, your fingers gliding through his hair as you began to kiss him again. You swam through these mounting sensations, your mind filled with fireworks.
You could feel the hunger in his every kiss, each seeming to linger longer than the last. You savoured it all - from the taste of his lips to how his tongue skilfully massaged the inside of your mouth.
He wrapped an arm around your middle, bringing your body closer to his. The electricity that you had felt in the room was now sinking into your skin, making you feel brand new.
He placed his knees on the bed, his body weight supported as he rocked back. Your body went with his, guided by a pump forward, which made you whine softly.
Your hand in his hair tensed, your fingers grabbing for the dark strands as he began into an easy tempo. You could keep up with his rocking, even as you started to lose your breath. Your head lolled back, eyes squeezed shut as you concentrated on meeting every one of his swings.
He gripped your thigh, holding your leg to his side as the two of you started to share sweat. His lips left kisses across your neck as he picked up some speed. You smiled, feeling more of your body reacting, picking up that electricity.
“Oh my fucking God, feels so amazing, ah…” You dissolved into breathless giggles as you matched his rhythm.
There was a smile on your lips as you lifted your head, looking at his familiar face again. His eyelids were fluttering, his gaze inconsistent, but he returned your smile all the same. It instantly made you feel encouraged, a warm feeling growing in your stomach and you held him tighter. You were relieved that you didn’t have to come up with any words other than amazing to describe how you were feeling. There wasn’t any pressure to be eloquent, your smile was good enough.
That smile remained until you were surprised by the return of the vibrator. It was already buzzing as he put it between your bodies. Your whole body jolted, your lips parting as you let out a squeak. He pressed the wand to your clit, giving you an intensity that left you floored.
“Do you like that, little girl?” He asked, keeping the wand in place as he continued grinding into you.
“Holy fffuuh-...”
Your hips had started to erratically buck into him, completely without rhythm as your excitement took over. You were getting up to that daunting edge, into a realm beyond your definition of amazing.
It was beyond anything you had ever known before because it wasn’t stopping. You couldn’t get intimidated and slow down, letting the shame take over.
He met you at your feverish level, attempting to match your pacing. The headboard of his bed had started to knock against the wall, tapping out the reckless speed he pounded into you at.
The relentless vibrations had you twitching, making you feel like all of your nerves were on fire. The way his dick worked inside of you inspired grand surges of pleasure, waves that were ready to ruin you.
Your mind went completely blank as your walls spasmed and clenched harder around his dick. Your arms flailed out and you grabbed for the bedsheets, the material gathering together in your tight fists. You squirmed forward, your head buried into his chest as your whimpers filled the room.
“Oh God, I’m- I’m- ah, fuck.” You whined, overwhelmed beyond belief. “I’m cuh- I’m gonna come. I’m- fuck…”
“Yes, honey.” His voice was soft amongst the intense sensations that gripped your body.
You convulsed, losing all control as you fell apart. You faced the strongest orgasm of your life, achieving a height you hadn’t known existed until now.
You were nothing more than a quivering mess. You felt like you were in a dream, those electric-like crackles rushing your nervous system, while the rest of you felt mostly numb.
He reached his own peak with a series of loud moans.
He was holding your body tight to his, even after he had pulled out. You gradually opened your eyes, tilting your head back to find him in this uncharted territory.
There was a sleepy-looking smile on his flushed face. He looked at you with those familiar eyes, stroking his hand down your back in a soothingly slow tempo. "Hi honey." He was studying your face. "Are you-... Why do you look like you're about to laugh again?"
You couldn’t help it, you were giggling. You didn’t know if this was the right way to react because you truly didn’t know how you should be acting, when you could barely wrap your head around what had just unfolded.
But laughing with Damiano was familiar.
“I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I’m just…” You were still giggling, spoiling the sexiness of this moment. You had never imagined you would have a moment with him that contained any level of sexiness, and realising that only added to your laughter. “Can you believe?”
He started to chuckle a little as well. “It’s kinda wild.”
You laid back, still in your giddy state. “We just fucked.”
He laid down next to you. “We did and we should do it again. Later, of course, much, much later. We’ve gotta get you to the shops before they close so you can get your milk and pasta.”
“I thought I said that I needed bread.”
“I dunno, it was your dumbass lie.” He teased.
You laughed, rolling onto your side to face him. Any kind of comeback swiftly disappeared from your brain when you looked at him. You didn’t feel any motivation to show how witty you could be. Instead, your only urge was to kiss him. You cradled his face in your hands, sacrificing getting your breath back so that you could cover his mouth in kisses.
“How do you feel?” He asked.
“Fucking spectacular. So much better than when I used it on my own.” You said.
“I’m glad because I- I really want us to do that again.” He said, his fingers caressing the side of your face. “Not just that, I wanna do more than the fucking. You’re one of my best friends, you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever known.” Your throat was tightening as he spoke, the serious look in his eyes mesmerising you. “And I don’t want you to get used to, or in any way come to feel like you deserve how those other losers have treated you.
“When I said that I wanna take care of you, I meant it, totally and completely. That was fucking great for me too. It isn’t always electric like that, but I think there’s something here. With all of our history and this crazy chemistry, I think we’ve got something worth exploring.”
You couldn’t disagree with a single word. But, at the same time, you couldn’t quite believe that he was saying all of this. “Do you mean, like, a relationship?”
“Maybe.” He said. “We could start off with me taking you out, and not just so you can buy milk. And some more fucking, or a lot more. I can show you what else I’ve got in that toy drawer. If you’d like…”
You kissed him again. “I would like. But, you have to tell Renardo.” Before you had finished speaking, you had raised your index finger, holding it to the side of your nose, invoking the universal gesture of not It.
He scowled at you, playfully swiping at your hand. “What, when did we start doing that?”
You kept yourself in this responsibility-shriking pose, poking your tongue out at him. “Sucks to be you, sfigato.”
“No, we’re gonna settle this like adults.” He said. “Scattergories. Whoever loses has to tell Ren.” The creative-thinking party game had become a favourite way for the two of you to compete. It didn’t matter where his work took him, he always had time to open the app and play with you. Some games could last all night.
“But my phone is in the other room.” He said, sitting up. “I’m gonna get that, and some water for you.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
[part 2 here!]
»»————- ♡ ————-««
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filthforfriends · 6 months
Text
Chapter 1: Checking In
The Sun is the Center of Everything
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See Author's Note (CW: addiction)
Word count: 3.5k
Damiano David x Y/n
His family and his friends, mutual and otherwise, made tepid comments about Damiano’s wellbeing. They knew they didn’t have the right to ask anything of you, not anymore.
“Just checking in! I know the breakup was tough.” Tough. The word choice made you outright laugh. It was something you’d say to a child who just lost a football game. I know that was tough, buddy. 
“Hey, checking in, hope you’re doing well.” 
“I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing, y/n.”
“I know I checked in on you earlier, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” I was forced to choose between my sanity and my relationship, but God granted me neither.
“I’m doing fine, all things considered.” “Checking in” was their excuse to call, it was a transition to statements like, “We all miss you alot. Hope we’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” “Well, I’m glad you’re doing well, since I know Damia has been struggling.” “Have you heard from Dami? I was gonna call and ask how he’s doing as well. I heard he’s not coping well.” “You were such a force for good in his life. I think he really needs that.” “I wish I knew how to get Damiano closer to being fine, too.” That last one earned a real life eye roll. At least his friends had the etiquette to feel guilty for dragging you back into it. 
You were certain that your heart couldn’t bear to love someone hellbent on self-destructing. You were certain that Damiano wasn’t going to get sober of his own volition. He’d lose his temper when you’d bring up those two years of not drinking. Articles, books, podcasts, speeches, YouTube videos, TV, movies, therapy, support groups, doctors, even a sobriety coach. You spent more time on resources for his addiction disorder than you did self-care, or hobbies, or some days, even work. Your life revolved around stopping this behavior before he became a tragic stereotype and left a black hole in your life. Damiano’s life revolved around Maneskin’s unrelenting schedule. 
He’d do anything to reclaim his autonomy, but the options were slim. The documents from Sony US hadn’t been translated with nuance and you wondered if that might void some of it. Hoped, really. He’d signed his life away to realize his dream. Now all he could do is show his handlers that they’d bought a faulty machine. In fact, he was self-destructive enough that he’d do it just to spite them. 
The first time Damiano was hospitalized with alcohol poisoning, you found about a dozen ways to reassure yourself that everything wasn’t falling apart. He’d been sober for two years so his tolerance was low. Damiano was probably drinking the same amount. Then you found out it’d been hard alcohol, no mixers. Now the excuses were he didn’t remember when to stop. He had to relearn how to self regulate when drinking. 
Ethan had been the one to call the first time, when they’d managed to contain it. The second it was his head of security, Ronnie. In a totally normal and healthy way, you combed through Twitter for an hour. The knot in your stomach said the news would break and it did. Splashed across tabloids was a haggard looking picture of Dami that you tried to date based on his outfit. Your therapist called your behavior “obsessive,” but followed it up with a surprising amount of empathy.
“Tough love can be equally painful on both sides.” You’d never told her you still loved him. It was obvious. For the first time, carrying around all Damiano’s secrets felt like a burden. You’d never betray his confidence, despite how poisonous he’d been towards the end. SME had you sign a non-disclosure agreement in early 2021. You’d insisted it wasn’t necessary, that there wasn’t enough money in the world to pay you to talk to the press. Sony had simply said, “for now,” prompting Dami’s stereotypically Italian temper to flare.
Ronnie was more concerned with you telling Damiano that he’d relayed this information, clearly against your ex-boyfriend’s wishes. 
“Be honest with me, are you breaching contract by calling me?” There’s a very long sign on the other end of the line.
“Technically, no. He hasn’t taken you off his emergency contacts. I’m more concerned about the disruption it would cause.”
“Disruption?”
“Explosion. Whatever he’s ingesting has made him volatile, constantly on edge. The edge of rage, that is. We’ve stopped hoping for good days and started hoping for some good hours every few days, ideally around showtime or interviews.” 
“Wow, okay. I know he has a temper –”
“He’s never not angry. It's always simmering under the surface.” Through the silence, you can hear the sounds of the hospital. Layers of anxious voices and the constant beeping of some machine.
“You didn’t do this.”
“I know,” you respond automatically.
“Y/n, you didn’t do this. He did this to himself.” Dami had violated boundary after boundary as you set them. He became less recognisable, until he wasn’t the person you fell in love with. Full of creativity, light, good humor, who loved art and comradery more than he did any substance.
“I mean, I don’t think the breakup is why he’s so angry. The depression is probably from the alcohol. That’s actually why I’m calling.” Ronnie has the same tone of voice as those who are “checking in.” “The decision has been made, that he’s going to rehab.”
“Good.” With your back braced against the wall, you slide down onto the floor with relief.
“That decision has been made without Damiano’s consent.”
“Can’t you consult him?”
“No,” Ronnie says firmly. “Addicts aren’t rational.” It was the first time you’d heard someone call Dami an addict. Before now, that word had only existed in your own head.
“I can’t believe it got to this point so quickly.” Your cat, Princess, senses your anxiety and rubs against you. Dami had picked her out as a tiny kitten. When would she start wondering where her dad was? Maybe not yet, he was gone for long stretches of time on tour. Princess doesn’t know he isn’t coming home, and that thought both makes you jealous and sob hysterically. 
“Y/n? Y/n? You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry,” you sniff, eyes burning.
“SME is using the full weight of its influence to force Dami into rehab. He might call you and say anything he can think of to get out of it. Don’t believe him. You can’t trust him right now.” The thought of Dami calling and begging you to fly him home, only to go on a bender makes you sick.
“Should I block his number and Whatsapp?”
“That's up to you.”
“You called to tell me it's up to me?”
“I called you to warn you. So you could steal yourself. So you’d know about it before the tabloids.”
“I suppose now that Dami’s hospitalization is public, someone is also gonna leak that he’s going to rehab. Cover their own asses?” Ronnie falls silent. “You know, going to rehab in privacy would be a fuck load more effective. Let them wonder.”
“I wish they would.” Here was the impasse you always reached. Damiano treated as a doll to be flung around for profit, as if he didn’t have a soul. 
“Fine. Thanks for calling me.” Each time, you tried to tell them not to update you in the future, and each time your tongue refused to form the words.
“Y/n, I have a feeling that something is really not right with him. That it could get much worse before it gets better.” Now, he’s managed to tick you off.
“Ronnie, I tried everything in my goddamn power to keep him from crashing and burning. More than anyone else! I devoted hours to –”
“Y/n, I know.”
“I couldn’t stop him from self-destructing. I tried!” The sound of tears creeps into your voice. “I couldn’t stand to watch it anymore. I don’t know if he was refusing to get better or was unable to, but either way I…tried.”
“No one questions that. I mean that Damiano might need for things to get worse for them to eventually get better. He’s stubborn and short-sighted. I want you to be ready.”
“How much worse?” you whisper.
“He might need to bruise his ass on rock bottom to stop idealizing self-destruction.”
“‘Live fast, die young’ sounds a lot like I’d rather stick it to the man than grow old with you. My ego is bigger than my love for you”
“I don’t know that that’s true, y/n. For some people it's a matter of time before they become addicts when they’re put into this pressure cooker. I’ve seen it before.
“And?”
“Only Damiano can pull himself out of it.”
“So I just wasted my time,” you respond bitterly.
“Showing Damiano how deeply and unequivocally you loved him might save him still.”
“I thought he had to save himself.”
“You’re telling me that after five years he’s not a part of you and vice versa?”
“No.” No, I’m not telling you that, because I know the opposite to be true so viscerally that it has almost destroyed me. The part of Damiano that lay in your heart should be withering in his absence, but it remained very much alive. How do you move on from someone you hadn’t broken up with? The version of Dami that caused you to end it wasn’t truly representative of his character. He was still in there, progressively buried under the rubble of this revolt. The man you loved was unreachable which also made it impossible to move on. Every day he held you in his hellish limbo. 
Damiano did his 30 days. Then 30 hours after discharge, he overdosed in Milan. You started buying a train ticket as soon as you saw Ronnie’s contact on the screen. 
“Is he alive?” 
“Yes, but he’s on a ventilator.”
“God damn it Dami,” you whimper, doubled over and on the verge of screaming into your hand. “What's happening?”
“That's literally all I know. Someone found him in the bathroom of a bougie nightclub and gave him Narcan, thank god. His lips were purple, so…” For a moment Ronnie’s voice is drowned out by a sob. “It’s gonna be messy. The ambulance was photographed.”
“Christ.” This would make international celebrity news. Every asshole who’d typecast Dam after Eurovision would be competing for the most public validation. 
“We don’t think it was intentional.”
“But how bad was it? Like would he think he was gonna die in the moment? Was he alone? How long was he conscious? What – what about organ failure. What if –”
“Y/n, I don’t know,” Ronnie says slowly. “I will call when I have more information.” You’d been on the train for 20 minutes before your phone rang. He was going to be okay. You balled up your coat and screamed, using it as a gag.
“Turns out, to compensate for the hangovers, he’s been doing cocaine.” Never has irony been more painful. “He wasn’t testing his drugs. The coke was laced with fentanyl. Another line might have killed him.” Only then does the possibility that Damiano could end his own life become apparent. It swallows up every other aspect of your reality, until you’re standing in the doorway of his hospital room. 
Thomas’ girlfriend Mia sees you first and runs in for a hug. Ethan and Vic were sleeping in their hotel rooms. Ronnie’s jacket is crumpled in a chair, forgotten after drifting off to sleep probably.
“Hey! Ronnie said you might come, but…” But I’m not Damia’s girlfriend. Perhaps he’d found someone new, and you were encroaching on their territory.
“Shit, I just thought that, um…is he dating –”
“No.” The amount of relief that provided was just evidence of how damaged you were. “He’s been in a coma for almost three hours, lots of good brain activity. He should wake up soon.”
“Coma?” you squeaked. In Tom’s eyes you saw how taxing this new Damiano had been. You weren’t the only one that loved him unconditionally. 
“Yeah.” Thomas rubs his face and sighs. “Fuck. We have so much shit tomorrow.” SME had scheduled a press tour as soon as Damiano was discharged, to make up for lost time. Everything was pushed back because the band couldn’t release something they hadn’t done publicity for.
“I’ll sit with him for a while,” you reassure. Mia helps Tom up out of the chair. After exchanging appropriate greetings, they exit the room, whose door remains open. Now you had to look at him. The ventilator emits rhythmic rushes of air, so your eyes find the source of the sound first. Then you follow the tubing until it enters Damiano. He’s gray, sickly looking like he had COVID again. Surely they already tested for that. 
The concern had been damaging his voice, like the tobacco and weed hadn’t already put his vocal chords on the edge of irreversible harm. How damaging is a plastic tube shoved down your throat? Alcohol caused esophageal cancer and coke eviscerated your sinuses. What would those do to his singing voice? 
You’d refrained from watching his gigs, but now you have the compulsion to find a video of this morning’s interview. It was just the talking portion, no performance. That was Sony’s idea of easing back into the public’s eye. In the thumbnail, he doesn’t look like an addict. Damiano’s skin had aged backwards while in rehab. He was beautiful, pale from so much time in doors, but healthy. The fact that he’d managed so much damage in a matter of hours made you nauseous. 
You sat in the bathroom while the feeling passed. The pale green tiles were cold. Should you leave? You couldn’t even work up the bravery to touch him. But if you left, Dami could wake up alone with a tube down his throat, confused that he wasn’t dead. Meanwhile, the fluorescent lights illuminate details in the reflection of the mirror that you’d prefer not to be made aware of. After pondering some adult acne, you decide that you aren’t the type of person to abandon someone, just because they abandoned you.
Upon exiting the bathroom, you startle the nurse at Damiano’s bedside.
“Geez, I didn’t know you were in there!” She brings a hand to her ample bosom while taking a deep breath.
“Shit, sorry. I was just…having an existential crisis.”
“Ah, so you must be the girlfriend, then.”
“Yep,” you answer automatically. After five years, that response was ingrained into your frontal lobe. This would have been the first time you answered no.
“I’m Maria and I’m gonna be your nurse this morning.”
“Morning?”
“It is…” she checks her smart watch, “5:04. So early morning.” Her chipper tone gives you cognitive dissonance. “I’m just gonna take some blood, just to monitor how his organs are functioning. Unfortunately a tiny amount of fentanyl can wreak havoc.” 
“His organs are failing?”
“No,” she answers firmly, going so far as to round the bed and pat you on the shoulder before putting on latex gloves. “He’s young and it's his first OD. He could bounce back quickly, but a coma is the body's last ditch effort at keeping itself alive. He’s lucky.” She gives you a knowing look. “I can recommend some great treatment programs, now that he officially has his Substance Use Disorder diagnosis.”
“Um.”
“Maybe we’ll tackle that around breakfast time. Now why don’t you hold onto his hand.” She ties a purple tourniquet around his bicep on his left arm while you gingerly take a seat. “Mhm, go ahead,” she permits, completely oblivious to the war raging inside you.
“Does – does it help?” Your left hand quivers, half an inch above his, close enough to feel the heat.  For some reason, you expect Dami’s skin to be cold too, like a corpse. 
“It can be difficult to find a good vein after an overdose.”
“Are his veins damaged?”
“We didn’t find any evidence that he was using intravenously. Unfortunately hypoxia, A.K.A. oxygen deprivation, is a result of –”
“Will he have brain damage?”
“You’ll have to ask the doctor that question.” 
“Does Narcan hurt?”
“No, but he’ll probably have a headache.”
“Does overdosing on fentanyl hurt?”
“It’s heavily sedating.”
“Would he know that he was overdosing?”
“Depends on how experienced of a drug user he is.”
“I’m pretty positive that this is his first overdose.”
“Then probably not.”
“Would he be scared then?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“Would he be afraid of dying?”
“Honey, hold his hand.” Maria pats you on the shoulder as you finally set your palm against Damiano’s. His skin is warm, as always, and he feels sturdy. The sensation of his hand in yours brings back so many memories that you’re fighting not to drown in them. It's strange, him not responding as you squeeze down. Dam loved to talk about marriage, how the ceremony would go, the reception. You’d debated matching rings. Now you watched the blue line of his heart rate on the beeping monitor.
“Okay, all done,” Maria announced, smoothing adhesive labels over vials of blood. “The doctor will be in shortly and – oh.” She freezes, then presses the call button.
“Is he okay?” Your heart falls from your chest to stomach, out your ass, and lands on the linoleum floor. 
“Yep, looks like he’s coming out of it, actually. Stand up,” Maria requests, pulling on your arm. “Make sure you’re in his line of sight. Waking up on life support can be quite disorienting.” Damiano’s face looks the same, but then his pupils move under his eyelids. You’re the first thing he’ll see and that pressure is impossible to bear. 
“I can’t! I’m so sorry.” You rub your eyes then stand up, grabbing your purse and overnight bag. Maria doesn’t protest. She lets you leave in a flurry of movement and tears, throwing the door open so forcefully that it hits the wall. Once outside of the hospital room, you immediately feel compelled to go back. Dami had never done anything to warrant being left alone at such a pivotal, terrifying moment. You knew with absolute certainty that if the roles were reversed, he’d have never left your side.
“Okay.” You take a deep breath upon re-entering the hospital room, holding Dami’s right hand in both of your own. “Okay, I’m here. What now?” 
“We wait,” Maria answers, as a doctor enters the room. There's the medication given, vitals taken, brain activity analyzed. The waves on the monitor become closer together, then more drastic. Medical personnel may be accustomed to it, but the rapid beeping elevates your anxiety.
“We’re bringing him up out of it gradually, so he doesn’t hurt himself,” narrates a young doctor. “Mr. David will have regained a level of consciousness by now. Probably thinks he’s dreaming.” How would a person not startle while waking up with a tube in their throat? It’d been almost three months since you’d last seen him, but if you thought about it that way, you’d just run. Instead, you imagine that you’re waking Damiano up from a bad dream, even though it was typically the other way around.
“Will he recognize your voice?”
“Of course.” The response comes out defensive when you didn’t intend it to be.
“Talk to him.”
“I…okay.” You lean down, getting closer to his ear. “Dami, it’s y/n. It’s y/n, I’m really here. It's me, baby.” That last word gets stuck in your throat. It’d be so long. How many messages had you missed? He must have tried to contact you.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t answered. I don’t know the right things to say. I don’t know if saying something is the right thing.” Maria and the other nurse in the room are looking at you with a bit of judgment, but the doctor is focused on the monitors.
“Great. That’s great.” You raise a shaky hand to Damiano’s cheek and brush your thumb back and forth.
“As soon as I heard, I got on a train. I still think about you everyday, even more than when we were together. Hopefully you won’t remember any of this, me babbling on. I’d call it pathetic, but you wouldn’t like that.”
“Page whatever respiratory therapist is on call this morning, please. Thank you.” For another couple minutes you wait for improvement, signs that your boyfriend still existed in this body. The doctor is enthralled in what appears to be unchanging information to you, and administers another dose of something. 
“I always thought it was kind of sudden,” you confess. “Damia, if you can hear me, come towards the surface.”
“He can definitely hear you. I’m Dr. Williams, by the way, or just Paul.” The young physician never breaks focus. “Common misconception. If waking up from sleep isn’t instant, why would waking up from a coma be,” he chuckles. Damiano’s hand twitches at the wrist, like a muscle spasm.
“He just moved!”
“Mm-hm.”
“Is everything okay?” Ethan exclaims, having walked in while all your focus was elsewhere. Someone herds him into the hall and closes the door. Then Dami squeezes down on your hand, properly, like he intends to. His eyes flutter and you feel his presence enter the room.
Notes: Chapter 2 posted on Sunday. Let me know if you find this fic interesting/compelling so far. I'll be posting two short chapters a week, word count ranging from 2.9 - 7.3k. Hello to the new members of my taglist!
-XOXO Eden
Read the rest on my Masterlist
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noahmaxim · 1 year
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Lazy day - Ethan Torchio
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I accept requests!
Warnings: beware this can be cute.
English is not my first language, so it may contain grammatical errors. I'm Brazilian.
________________________
It was a sunny afternoon in Rome, and even though it was summer there was a soft, cool breeze, the perfect day to laze around the house. You were sitting on a wooden stool finishing a painting that you had started a few days ago. A customer had ordered a painting of a full moon night, and you had to deliver it within a week.
A rather sleepy Ethan appeared in the room, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself fully. Her sleep-dazed eyes studied what little of the room they could still see while her mind processed what was happening around her. Without taking your focus off the drawing you say:
"Did you sleep well mi amoré?" Her sweet, warm tone doesn't seem to have woken her boyfriend up completely, he disappears into the kitchen for a few moments.
A smile instantly appears on his lips, Ethan was very cute when he woke up, his messy hair framed his beautiful face and that sleepwalking way of his makes him even cuter. He was like an adorable kitten.
Ethan has reappeared in the room with a glass cup full of coffee in his hands, he walks towards you tilting his head slightly to look at the painting.
"What do you think?" You turn slightly to the side so you could look at your boyfriend.
"Even if it's not finished, but it's really good" He leaves a kiss on the top of her head.
"Then I'll get back to work." You turn back to the canvas and go back to painting.
Thirty minutes or so passed, but you remained focused on your work. Good at least until she felt soft kisses on her neck.
"Amoré, I'm working." You smile, depositing your brush on the small table that was next to the canvas.
"I know, but you've been there so long. We hardly have time to spend together, so how about we take the day to spend together?" He continues to attack her neck with soft kisses.
"Fine, let's have a lazy day!" You get up, putting your arms around the brunette's neck, you place a kiss on Ethan's lips. He asks for passage with his tongue, the kiss was calm and sweet.
"Let's go to bed." He picks you up bridal style making you squeal in surprise.
Those moments were her favorites, the moments when you could just enjoy Ethan's company.
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oro-e-diamanti · 1 year
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Puppet Masterlist | Puppet Taglist | Ko-Fi
You wear a new pair of jeans. Ethan is becoming slightly obsessed. So you do your worst.
Content: Smut
Word count: 4.2k
Lesson Sixteen: A taste of pain.
"Heard you had a bit of an argument with Damiano last night," Ethan said as you walked toward the van with him. Your tired eyes barely bothered to look up at him, but even so, you could spot the smirk he was trying hard to hold back. "Also heard you making up."
You gave him a nudge, a little harder than necessary, as your brain whirled. It hit you like a truck. How just a few weeks ago you would have been a blushing, trembling mess, awkward at what he was hinting at more or less explicitly, unsure about how to act. Now all you did was grin to yourself, confidence rising in your bones, almost satisfied at having other people made aware of your shenanigans from the night before. It did point to you having a good night, after all. There wasn't any need to hide behind excuses.
"Bet you enjoyed listening in, hm?" You smirk. "Wonder if listening was the only thing you did."
You skipped ahead, trying to reach the van before him, already dreaming about a window seat, but his arm wound around your waist and quickly pulled you back into him. His chest collided with you as his breath tickled your ear.
"Don't think you're getting away that easily," he growled into your ear in a perfect mixture of enticing and dangerous. "Especially not when you're wearing those jeans. I won't be able to stop thinking about your ass for the rest of the day now. How lovely and red it could look when I'm done with it. And judging from last night, you like it hard, don't you?"
It was hard to bite back a moan, especially when you felt him growing ever so slightly from his own words and the ideas he was planting in both of your heads. You couldn't help but wiggle your bum a little, happy to know your jeans had the exact effect you were hoping they would when you bought them in Berlin. You wanted to push him away only so you could drag him into the nearest semi-secluded space and let him have his way with you. But Damiano walked past, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you and your tight embrace.
"You know I do," you whispered back. "Sounds like I might want to spend the share the bed with you tonight, hm?"
He simply chuckled, darkly, sending shivers down your spine and through your whole body, before loosening his grip on you. "Sounds like you might."
***
In an incredible stroke of luck, you ended up with a window seat. You almost offered it to Thomas when he climbed into the van, hair all over the place and tired eyes threatening to fall shut any moment, but he simply claimed the middle seat, dropped his bag on the floor, put his pillow in your lap, and cuddled up to you. Your hands found his head immediately, fingers running through strands of knotted hair with the utmost effort not to pull at them, and within moments, even before the driver started the engine, his breathing had evened out. He was fast asleep.
"Wow, thanks for leaving any room for my legs, Thomas," Vic complained loudly as she moved into the other window seat, limbs entangling with Thomas', who had lost all control of his body as he murmured peacefully in his sleep. Your watched her kick his shin not quite so accidentally as she got into a comfortable position, but the blonde mess in your lap didn't even stir. Your fingers were still treading through his hair as it slowly untangled. You loved seeing him this calm and quiet. It wasn't that you didn't adore his other side just as much. But him, cuddled up into you with no questions asked, body heat slowly transferring to you, a tiny nose twitch as a lone strand of hair tickled him, made your heart swell in a different way.
It seemed unbelievable that the four of them had only come back into your life weeks ago. You almost wanted to laugh at how awkward and apprehensive you had been at the beginning. Now you were sure you never wanted to live without them again. They had brought out new sides in you, they had your confidence soaring, and quite frankly, you couldn't remember the last time you had had so much fun. Or had put so much trust in others. And love, your heart told you with a skipped beat, as you kept watching Thomas.
Vic was already looking at you when you lifted your head and tore your gaze away from the sleeping man. The smile on her face was all but begging for you to ask her what it meant but you held back. For some reason, and seemingly out of nowhere, you were afraid of the answer. So instead, you simply shot her a small smile back, pull your phone out of the pocket of your tight jeans, and leaned onto the window next to you, the streets of the city passing you by as you slowly made your way towards Amsterdam.
***
The drive should have been reasonable. Two and a half hours, maybe three. Just enough time to recharge and relax without getting too restless. But then you got closer to the capital and as the roads kept getting busier and busier, your driver let out a deep sigh. Traffic. A lot of it. Might be an hour extra, might be three. The band didn't have any plans until the evening, so the stress level was low enough, but the annoyance was rising with every passing minute. Thomas was still fast asleep. He had somehow twisted in his seat and was now lying in your lap face up, but the relaxed features told you that nothing would disturb him. But you were getting bored. Damiano had fallen asleep in the row ahead of you. Victoria was on the phone with someone, speaking excitedly and rapidly, rather unbothered about the delay. Ethan was on his phone doing god knows what. And you were restless.
The message that appeared on your phone made you stop dead in your tracks though.
Hope you're making the most of your soft seat because after tonight I'll make sure you won't be sitting comfortably for a while
You stared at the back of Ethan's head in the row ahead but he was still mindlessly playing with his phone, seemingly unaware of anything that was happening around him and on the edge of bored. At least that's what it looked like. From the words on your phone, the real situation looked very different. You typed a message back, glad that he couldn't see your shaking fingers.
Someone has developed a bit of a hyperfixation
You wished you could get any sort of reaction, a certain look, a chuckle, anything at all, but he was stoic. This was going to happen strictly over the phone. You caught sight of a sign letting you know there were roughly thirty kilometres left until Amsterdam. A lot of time for him to play his little game with you.
And we both know whose fault that is. You better watch your step when we get out of this van
The grin appeared on your face immediately.
Yeah? What if Idon't
Ethan's reply came in record time.
Then you might learn justhow hard Iusually hit my drums
It shouldn't have turned you on so much, the promise of pain. But as you read his message, your head already visualising what he was alluding to, a tingling sensation travelled through your whole body, ending between your thighs. You wanted to shift, possibly cross your legs, but Thomas made no attempt at moving. It almost felt wrong, feeling yourself getting ever so slightly wet while he was still in your lap. Ethan didn't seem to care.
Yeah? I'm not quite apprehensive enough yet, I might need some more details...
You were digging your own grave and you knew it and you couldn't care less. You were fully aware it would take hours until you would get him alone but the anticipation was simply too tempting. This time, it took Ethan a moment longer to write back. You soon realised why.
What do you want to know? How I can't wait to tear those jeans off of you? How I'm going to bend you over my knee as soon as we get to the room to give your ass the treatment it deserves? You know I can go easy or you. Or I can make your flesh sting until it's coloured red and you've got tears in your eyes. And then I'm gonna use those same fingers that tortured your flesh inside of you until you cry from needing to come. Maybe you'll even get my tongue. If you're a good girl.
You inadvertently twitched, legs almost kicking Thomas off your lap. He slowly opened his eyes, looking up at you still half asleep, trying to figure out what sensation had woken him up. You could feel your cheeks burning, more so with the excitement and the anticipation of tonight than any shame.
"Sorry, my leg fell asleep," you lied.
He immediately scampered off you, stretching as much as possible within the small space available.
"Probably my fault," he mumbled sheepishly. "How long did I sleep on you?"
"About three hours, give or take."
You watched him blink, gaze travelling towards the window where the signs had unmistakably changed to Dutch, traffic finally clearing up as you sped toward your destination.
"We better get there soon," Victoria, who you hadn't noticed had finally hung up the phone, commented. "My ass is about to fall asleep."
"Yeah," you agreed, not missing the way Ethan turned around ever so briefly to send you a look you understood all too well. "Same here."
You didn't feel the need to mention that your ass was tingling with something entirely different.
***
Time was passing by much too slowly. The last hours had felt like days. You had tried keeping yourself occupied and distracted, watching Netflix, listening to music, reading, drawing, but your brain was in horny mode.
It didn't help that you were hanging around backstage before they went to play a little showcase of six or seven songs and just about everyone around you was topless. You tried very hard not to be disrespectful but the number of toned chests and Vic's tits being all but in your face made it increasingly difficult.
You tried to keep busy helping out by being the stylist's right hand. Running her little errands, fetching Damiano's earrings, helping decide which jacket to put on Thomas. However, when Vic asked for help with her nipple covers, it felt like the right time to tap out.
"Two minutes guys, time to go!" The shout halted everything for a second before last frantic adjustments were made as the band started making their way outside the room. A sharp slap landed on your ass, making you jump from both the surprise and the sting, even through the denim. Ethan sent you a wink as he walked past, obviously enjoying the look on your face and the way your eyes raked over his body.
"Wait!" You had called out before you quite knew what you were doing. Ethan stopped in his tracks as you quickly found one of their bags, fumbling through it at lightning speed before finally finding what you were looking for. His Armani belt. You didn't have the time to be quite as teasing as you would have wished to be, but you made sure your fingers were touching him just that little too much, fumbling with his trousers just that bit more, as you pulled the material through the loops, making your way around him until you reached his front again. You kept your eyes solely on his as they were darkening while you buckled the belt up, lingering for a moment too long.
"Someone's definitely not getting the good girl treatment tonight."
***
You couldn't take it. You stayed for about three songs, watching the band progressively getting more undressed as the temperature in the small room rose, Ethan's shirt long gone, hair starting to curl from the heat. Then you walked backstage, amidst deep breaths to get your arousal under control, nicked his secondary room key, and called a taxi.
You had a plan. Ethan had already let you know that he wasn't planning on showing much mercy for your tonight and you were more than up for it. But if you had nothing to lose, you could always do your very worst.
Rummaging through your suitcase that you had asked to be put into his room earlier, you knew exactly what you were looking for. Pulling out the thin red lace, you studied the three-piece you had picked up in Berlin. A tiny bra, barely covering your breasts, completely seethrough at the front, a clear invitation. The panties were designed in a similar fashion, the tiny thong proving to be anything but comfortable, but comfortable wasn't on the cards for tonight either way. The accompanying suspender belt draping beautifully around your body, even if you had forgotten to buy any stockings to go with it. You figured Ethan wouldn't mind all that much.
You took in the state of the room. No one had been in here yet apart from someone dropping your luggage off. So you made quick work in making it a little more inviting. Unpacking everything you deemed necessary, including the lube and aloe vera gel you knew fully well Ethan kept in his suitcase, just in case his treatment would call for either. You undid the bed a little, making it look less sterile and perfectly done by the cleaning team, getting rid of the decorative pillows before re-straightening the duvet that was clad in expensive-looking satin coverings, soft and cool to the touch. Then you fumbled with the lights, turning off the overhead lamp immediately and instead making do with the small bedsides shades and some indirect lightning placed behind the headboard of the bed. It was perfect. Double-checking your phone, you realised you were right on time. Their show would have ended a few minutes ago. Even including meeting a few fans outside, they should be arriving at the hotel soon enough. You figured Ethan had enough sense in him to understand what you being missing meant and come straight up to his room. You didn't have it in you to be patient for much longer.
***
"You naughty little minx."
You couldn't help grinning to yourself as the door opened to reveal Ethan. He was mustering you as you laid on the bed, sprawled out in what you hoped was a sexy way, wearing nothing but the lingerie you had prepared. He stepped into the room slowly, taking in every inch of you. You turned around onto your stomach, looking at him from over your shoulder, presenting your ass in a rather straightforward fashion.
"Enough."
The tone in his voice was strict and it had you stopping in your tracks immediately. The excitement rose up in you once again.
"Get up. Undress me. It's the least you can do after the stunts you've been pulling all day."
You obliged without hesitation. In an instant, you were on your feet in front of him, your hands already reaching for his shirt as you started pushing it upwards, impossibly desperate for him.
"Slower."
You didn't know who he was torturing more, you or himself, but you didn't question him as your fingers slowed down, inching the shirt up his chest, making sure you were constantly touching the skin you were revealing. You stopped for just a moment when you reached his nipples, letting your nails rake over them. Ethan flinched, but didn't say a word. You knew he was trying to keep his composure and you also knew he would succeed in that much more than you could. As soon as it was up to his neck, he helped you in removing the shirt from his body. You didn't waste a single second before starting to fumble with his belt again, easily undoing the buckle. Your hands were already on the button of his jeans, but he stopped just long enough to pull the belt free and casually toss it onto the bed.
"Just in case we need it later," he smirked. You were sure you were dripping at this point, panties impossibly stained and beyond ruin already. He knew it too.
You made slightly quicker work of pulling down his jeans, relieved to see he wasn't stopping you. The tension in the room was rising with every passing second, both of you could feel it. There was only so much teasing to be done. Kneeling at his feet with the denim fabric thrown aside, you looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Anything else you'd like me to do while I'm down here, daddy?"
Instead of answering, he grabbed your arm as your fingers playfully wandered up his naked thigh and pulled you up. The roughness in his gesture seemed to be an indicator of what was to come.
"Don't think you're getting out of a spanking. Now be a good girl, take your panties off and lay on daddy's lap."
You watched as he walked around you to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back just enough to obviously offer his thighs to you. While you got back up, underwear already gone, and then carefully draped yourself over him, ass up, face down, you could feel the nerves and anticipation rise in you. You weren't surprised Ethan noticed too.
"Colour?"
"Green."
It wasn't a question. You wanted this, badly. He didn't need more than that.
The first slap caught you by surprise. A squeal escaped you before you could catch it. It wasn't even all that hard, it was simply that he had given you no warning whatsoever. You were more prepared as the second one hit your other buttcheek. You didn't know if he'd prefer you to moan or take your punishment silently, but when he continued spanking you with ever-increasing strength, you didn't have it in you to stay quiet anymore. Every hit sent you bouncing forward to the point where you found yourself holding onto the edge of the bed in a desperate attempt not to tumble to the ground. And the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint Ethan.
"So gorgeously red for me," he mused, massaging your flesh a little as he gave you a break. "My favourite view, I think."
Ethan didn't give you any time to bask in the feeling of his words. His hands were back to their torture, much harder than before, leaving you somewhere between a scream and a moan as they connected with your skin. Before the pain could really seep through you, his fingers had found their way between your legs, touching your dripping pussy, one of them immediately entering you. He was making a mess out of you, having you pleading and begging for more as your body started to ache from the hits and the way you were positioned on his knees.
"Don't pretend like you don't love this," Ethan smirked and you knew full well that you wouldn't even have tried. Not with the delicious sting on your flesh now being in a constant switch with one or two of his fingers inside you, making you push back against him in a desperate need for more.
"You know, I had only planned on using my hands today, but since you pulled that stunt with my belt earlier... Think you can take two with it?"
"Yes, daddy, please!" It wasn't even a question. You were losing your mind with want and need, craving the pain and the sweet release equally. You awkwardly pushed your ass up higher to encourage him. It seemed to be enough, as you felt him fumble with the belt he had thrown onto the bed earlier.
It was so much worse and so much better than his hands all at once. Ethan delivered the two hits in quick succession, one left, one right. It was over before you knew it, but the burning sting that developed and evolved on both of your butt cheeks was much more intense. You couldn't recall if you had made any noise at all or been stunned into silence. But even as the pain seeped through your entire body, you felt nothing but exquisite pleasure from it.
Without much hassle - possibly aided by the fact that your body felt as limp as a doll - he had you rearranged so you were sitting on his lap, facing him. You noticed he took care not to touch the sore and sensitive skin, instead, wrapping his arms tightly around your torso, he pulled you in, claiming your lips with passion and love. You let yourself sink into the kiss, enjoying the stark contrast of softness he was displaying now, pushing yourself closer into his body.
"Lay down on your front, I'll put some aloe vera on it, okay?"
You nodded wordlessly, carefully moving off him to lie down on the soft sheets. Everything felt blurred and dreamy and it would have unsettled you if it wasn't for Ethan giving you the utmost security. His hands soon found your body again, a slight sting as he moved over the place the belt hit causing you to hiss in surprise, but he was gentle and warm, making sure you were safe and cared for.
"I think you deserve a reward for taking your punishment like a good girl."
"Uh huh."
Ethan carefully turned your body around, making sure not to hurt you as your ass touched the sheets but the cool satin only brought a soothing sensation. You didn't know what his plan was and you didn't care. You'd take anything from him. Still, as he pressed a kiss to your lips once more, his hard on obvious against you, you ended up being surprised when you watched him tie his hair up, spread your thighs and move down your body until he was between them.
Both of you knew it wouldn't take long when his tongue touched your pussy and your whole body arched into the touch. He didn't waste any time. Pushing two fingers deep inside you and his tongue all over had you moaning and begging for more immediately. You had been so desperate and aroused for hours now, his spanking only making it worse to the point where you were sure you had been dripping down his leg. Having him between your legs now was pure heaven and you were quickly approaching your ultimate release. His fingers were moving faster now, moving in sync with your own attempts to push back into him. Then his tongue flicked your clit, again and against, faster and faster, and your back was arched and your hands were in his hair and your thighs were quivering and you were crashing into your orgasm.
You were pretty sure you screamed loud enough for the next room to hear and Ethan didn't let go until you were well and truly spent and on the verge of being overstimulated. He moved back up towards you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before laying down next to you and pulling you in, both of you on your sides, holding you tight as you came down from everything. You felt amazing. As soon as you had caught your breath you pulled his head towards you, kissing him frantically, tongue toying with his as you tasted yourself on him.
As you hooked your leg over him, you could clearly feel his cock, still confined by his underwear, pressing against you. You didn't have anything else in you for now and you were sure he knew it too, but that didn't mean you wouldn't help him get off. You doubted it would take much effort. Reaching between your bodies, you made quick work of pulling him out of the fabric. He groaned in your mouth in appreciation, painting a small smile on your face that almost broke the kiss by accident. You stroked him, feeling him grow even harder in your hand, moving rhythmically, daring him to fall over the edge. His breathing was growing heavy now, unable to keep up with your kiss.
"I want you to come on my tits, daddy."
His groan was almost animalistic as he sat up, not even bothering to remove your bra but simply pulling the fabric down until your breasts were on show, before straddling your middle, hovering over you as he jerked off. You could only think about how gorgeous he was, face screwed up in concentration as he was chasing his high, toned body flexing as he held himself up, hand moving quickly over his dick.
Ethan came with a growl, covering your breasts beautifully until there was nothing left. You loved watching him, how his features relaxed as he claimed his orgasm, how all energy seemed to leave him for a moment as he recovered. It felt like you were in delirium. You barely managed to keep up with what he was doing as he moved around the room, cleaning you up, undressing you fully, turning off the lights and shuffling both of you under the blankets. You simply cuddled into him as soon as he was back, content to fall asleep in his arms and awaiting a restful night before whatever tomorrow would bring caught up with you.
***
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motomamita · 2 years
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Crazy Little Thing Called Love
serie materialist
Pairing: Joseph Quinn x Rockstar!Reader
Summary: Joseph meets a guitarist on his trip to Italy and the two end the night together.
Warnings: smut, +18, cursing, mentions of drinking and smoking.
A/N: English is NOT my first language.
This is not meant to be a Victoria x Joseph story! I like to give readers the freedom to imagine the protagonist in the way they prefer!
The events occur before Joe is in Stranger Things and before Maneskin wins Eurovision 2021.
Some facts in relation to Maneskin are different, like the one that here Thomas plays the bass and not the guitar.
Do not copy or translate this!
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"There goes my baby
She knows how to rock and roll
She drives me crazy
She gives me hot and cold fever
She leaves me in a cool, cool sweat"
Italy, 2020.
Two talents unknown. Two lives. Two souls. One place.
Joseph Quinn arrived in the country less than a week ago. His sister had invited him to spend a mini vacation, taking advantage of the fact that she was working and studying there. He accepted without hesitation, excited and eager to see the country. Joseph had had quite a heavy few weeks because he had been preparing to audition in one of the most successful series of the moment. He deserved a proper break.
His sister received him in her apartment, letting him get comfortable in the guest room and then taking him to see the city. They visited several art museums, enjoyed the typical food of the place and walked through its streets until night found them. He quickly fell in love with the country, its landscapes, its culture and its people. The country of art and, for some, of love.
(y/n) Pagani lived in Italy all her life. She was born there and grew up in an environment full of art and lots of music. too much. At the age of 12 she was given her first guitar and since then she has not stopped playing, perfecting herself and learning until she excelled with the instrument. Her passion for music was something she could only share with her family and herself. It wasn't until she met Thomas Raggi, her schoolmate and amateur bass player, that the two of them were able to enjoy music together. Soon, the idea of ​​forming a band became present and stronger. From a Facebook post they were joined by vocalist and drummer Damiano David and Ethan Torchio. And so, Måneskin was formed.
Its beginnings were humble like those of any group of teenagers who want to succeed in music. They played in the streets of Rome to get rid of the fear of being in front of the public and by the way they got some coins. Soon, they caught the attention of a label that supported them and with which they released their first album. Thus, the group began to gain fame locally and their hopes of conquering beyond seemed close.
The not so different lives of both crossed that starry night in Italy.
The Quinns entered the bar and soon focused on a table not far from the stage. The atmosphere was pleasant, the other tables were occupied by people of the same age who were chatting animatedly among themselves. Drinks kept pouring out from the bar and the music played at a volume not so loud to stun you but enough to make you nod your head to the sound of it.
They both ordered a few beers that they drank calmly until Quinn's other friends joined them at the table. Joseph had had the pleasure of meeting them days ago and living with them for a few hours. They were friendly and fun, so much so that they made him feel like they were lifelong friends the moment they met him. According to her sister, Italians had this characteristic of being warm to everyone.
They drank a couple of beers and chatted about various trivial topics until the music coming out of the speakers under their sound and the equipment moving on stage began. Joseph guessed it was the group his sister was coming to see today. She had told him that she had friends who were in a rock group, they were rookies but they knew what they were doing according to her. He had no idea about them, so he didn't bother to search for them. He wanted to hear them live and direct.
The lights of the place were turned off, leaving on only the blue and purple ones that pointed to the stage. The people at the bar clapped and shouted with excitement as they saw the members take the stage. Joseph watched them curiously, unable to see their faces clearly. The tallest one with waist-length hair stood behind the drum kit, stretching out his arms and grasping his chopsticks deftly. Another of them stood in the middle of the stage in front of the microphone, his hair falling to his shoulders and various tattoos decorating his bare arms. Then two people went up, one on each side of the vocalist. One of them had a bass slung over his shoulder and blonde hair that matched his guitar. The other person greatly caught her attention because she was the only woman in the group. She had with her an electric guitar that she carried with experience. She was wearing a corset with lingerie details and black leather pants along with boots of the same color.
Before Joseph could ask for her name, the music began to play along with the vocalist's voice.
"Hi everybody this is Maneskin, you're listening to Chosen.
Listen clear now, baby
Ya, ya 'cause it begins like.."
The people around began to sing the song and clap their hands, until some stopped to get close to the stage and dance. Joseph stayed in his seat with his friends, who also sang along as they enjoyed the show. He, not knowing the song, just moved his head slightly to the rhythm of the music while looking at her fascinated. The way her hair moved when she walked across the stage and moved her hips to the music, how strong and expert her hands seemed on the guitar and the smiles she threw at the audience. In one of those times, their eyes collided for a few moments that for Joseph seemed eternal and one of the most exciting in his life. Love at first sight.
"Hey yeah, follow me, follow me now
Hey yeah, follow me, follow me now
Hey yeah, follow me, follow me now
Listen now now now now now now now now
Follow me, follow me now"
The song ended and the warm reception from the public was immediate. By general request, the group played 2 more songs until they left the stage to the applause and shouts of emotion from the audience.
The British continued with his gaze on the girl who, after leaving her guitar along with the other instruments, approached with her companions to the table where he was.
"Hi gorgeous!" The girl greeted the actor's sister with a warm hug, who received her excitedly.
"You were great! As always!" She congratulated them looking at the 4. "Let me introduce my brother Joe.
The named gulped nervously upon hearing his name and seeing how they approached where he was sitting. They introduced themselves in a general way, shaking hands with each one, even with the girl who had invaded his mind for minutes. Naturally, the group sat down in the free spaces they found at the table.
"Do you mind if I sit next to you?"
Joseph looked up from the beer in his hands to notice the voice that spoke close to his ear due to the music. An inevitable smile formed on his faces and his skin prickled when he saw the same eyes that before were several meters from him now were centimeters from his face.
"It's no trouble, please!"
Joseph moved to the side, giving her room for her to sit next to him comfortably, which she did. He kept his gaze straight ahead, nervous at the girl's proximity. And it was logical, (y/n) had a strong energy wherever she was. She was one of those strong and empowered girls whose presence was not easy to forget. Joseph wasn't used to that type of girl, and that was the very thing that caught his attention from her.
"Your sister told me you're an actor." She spoke again looking at him interested.
And it is that he had not gone unnoticed by her either. Despite being used to being on stage and receiving looks, Joseph's stood out for its intensity and all the interest there was. It may be that she was nervous about those dark eyes looking at her from a distance, so much so that some of her chords on her guitar did not come out as accurately as usual but luckily no one noticed.
He turned to give his full attention to the girl next to him.
"Yes, something like that. I did some small parts on television and I was acting in theater." He explained looking into her eyes while she nodded interested in listening to him.
"That's great!"
"Not as great as what you guys did up there. You're great!" He spoke sincerely making the girl smile embarrassed at the flattery.
"You're making me blush! Shut up!" She laughed lightly hitting his arm playfully. Joseph's heart sped up at the show of affection.
"Is seriously!" He replied laughing in the same way. "You play amazing. I really enjoyed the show." They both looked into each other's eyes again, now with greater confidence.
"I don't doubt it, I couldn't help but feel your gaze on me." Now it was Joseph who looked down in embarrassment at being discovered by her. She laughed out loud as he hid his face with his hands, hiding his mischievous grin.
"It was your fault for being so cool, Miss..!" He looked at her expectantly knowing her name.
"(y/n)!" She added receiving a nod from him. "What's your name, starboy?" They both laughed at her nickname.
"Joseph, that's my name." Now it was she who nodded her head. "But you can call me Joe. Everyone calls me that."
"Okay, Joe Joe!" She spoke in a singsong voice that did nothing but continue to captivate Joseph, who had to drink his beer to hide his smile.
"Let me buy you some beers, little rockstar!" He now spoke into her ear making her smile at the nickname.
"Ahead!"
Thus, the night passed between beers and laughter. Both Joseph and (y/n) discovered how well they got along despite not having much in common. She loved to party and have fun until the early hours while he was more of staying at home or going out to quiet gatherings with friends. Despite that, they both had a strong connection that became more and more evident as the beers finished.
At about 3 in the morning, the two were still at the bar with their friends who still refused to go home. (Y/n) had her legs up on Joseph's lap and her head resting on his chest, feeling his breath and the vibrations from him when he laughed. One of his hands was on her thighs, caressing her and pulling her closer to him. The other was part of her back bare by the corset, also caressing her and playing with her locks of hair from time to time.
"Until when are you going to be in Italy?" (y/n) raised her head to look at Joseph, who lowered his head close to her face.
"I'm leaving in 3 days." She pouted sadly upon hearing the answer. Joseph followed suit and caressed her cheeks with one of his hands. "The night is still young, we can enjoy what's left of it."
"Oh yeah? How would you like to enjoy it?" She whispered very close to his lips.
Joseph put his hand on her chin, holding it lightly and immobilizing her before kissing her. The kiss at first was simple, letting them appreciate each other's lips and the closeness they wanted so much. (y/n) lightly bit his lower lip with the intention of making him open his mouth, which he did. Soon their tongues met letting them savor the beer and cigarette they had shared minutes before. She moaned into his mouth as Joseph tightened his grip on her thighs, digging his fingertips into the leather material. They separated due to lack of air but they didn't move away, still feeling each other's breaths on their faces.
"I have the keys to the apartment if you two want to go." Damiano's slightly drunk voice called out to them. Apparently everyone at the table has been spectators of the sexual tension between the two.
(y/n) exchanged glances with Joseph, who after a few seconds nodded his head. They both got up from their places and gathered their things, ready to leave the bar in the direction of the band's apartment that was not far away.
"Don't make me an aunt yet, Joseph!" His sister yelled at him, seeing how the couple left the bar hand in hand, staggering thanks to the beers.
They walked laughing and humming Queen's 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love' through the streets of Italy. At one point Joseph raised her in a bridal way, demonstrating his strength and that he had greater resistance to alcohol than her. (Y/n) took advantage and played with his necklace that was visible through the various buttons that were open on his shirt.
Arriving at the apartment, Joseph didn't wait long to kiss her passionately and desperately again. She placed her hands around his neck, caressing his curls and scalp. He, for his part, placed his hands on her lower back and soon moved down to her butt, squeezing it slightly and causing her to moan. They walked without separating until they reached the sofa where Joseph sat down with (Y/n) on top of him. His kisses passed over her jaw to her bare neck, where he left several marks and wet kisses. She moved her hips, rubbing her clothed center with his remarkable erection. Joseph growled and brought his hands to her hips, intensifying the contact.
"Stop teasing, stargirl." He growled pulling away from her and admiring her on top of him.
(y/n) ignored him and kept moving his hips, causing Joseph to throw his head back with a loud sigh of pleasure. She ran her thumb over his moist pink lips.
"I'm not teasing, I'm just thinking what else can those lips of yours do, starboy." She murmured now looking at Joseph, who smiled mischievously at her.
"Let me show you." He asked to which she nodded her head.
Joseph's hands now moved to the closure of her corset, lowering the zipper and leaving her breasts free. His member throbbed under her as he saw how the moonlight entered through one of the windows and illuminated her erect nipples. Joseph took one of his hands to her hair and slightly stretched it, making her back come closer to him, leaving her at his mercy. He brought his face closer to the center between her breasts, letting her feel his hot breath before kissing her skin until he reached one of her nipples.
"Shit, Joe.." She groaned as she felt his wet tongue on her nipple and how his free hand caressed the other one.
Joseph savored the girl as if it were candy, taking his time to appreciate her moans and how her hips moved over him, taking him to the extreme. He pulled back to give his attention to the other nipple, not caring how sensitive she was to his touch. It didn't bother (y/n) either, what's more, never before had a boy had so much dedication and importance that she would enjoy too.
"The most delicious sweet that is tasted from Italy." Joseph murmured pulling away from her breasts to look at her.
"And that you didn't taste the best."
(y/n) drew him to her grabbing his collar to kiss him again with need. Now she lay down on the sofa without stopping kissing Joseph, who was on top of her. Her hands went to the buckle of his pants, unbuttoning it and lowering it with his help. His member stood out through the fabric of his boxers, eager for attention. Joseph hurried over and removed her pants from her, leaving her in nothing but lacy panties.
"Looks like someone needs attention.." (y/n) spoke with some amusement in her voice reaching her hand to the joseph's member dressed.
Joseph moaned at the contact, shifting his hips slightly for more friction. (y/n) massaged him through the cloth, driving him crazy and making him mutter obscenities. She decided not to torture him anymore and removed his boxers, leaving his aching cock free and at her disposal. Still with Joseph on top of her, (y/n) stroked the length of him slowly spreading the precum all over his length. Without taking her eyes off his face, she masturbated him gently and lovingly, enjoying how his brows furrowed and his mouth remained ajar.
"Let me take you." He asked almost in a whisper, certain that if she continued he would cum right there. "Please.."
"You look so cute when you beg for me.." (y/n) stopped touching him to bring her hand up to his shirt, quickly removing it and admiring his bare chest.
Joseph saw this as a positive sign for his request. He placed some cushions behind her and then placed his hand on her neck and leaned her head on them, taking control of the situation. He brought his hand up to her panty-covered center and massaged her clit, drawing a muffled moan from her. (y/n) moved her hips desperately at his touch, making Joseph laugh mockingly who was taking revenge. He removed her panties exposing her wet pussy. He couldn't help it and reached down to run his tongue over her folds, collecting her fluids and tasting them in his mouth.
"Joe, stop teasing." She said with need.
"I'm not teasing you, I'm just thinking about the things I'm going to do to your delicious pussy…" He answered her the same way she had minutes ago.
The Brit pulled a condom out of his wallet and tore it up with his hands before placing it on his hard cock. She watched him from her position, admiring his arms, the way his chest rose and fell and the way his necklace shone in the moonlight. Joseph moved closer to her, kissing her and letting her taste her own fluids on his tongue. He took one of his hands to his member and passed it through her folds, lubricating it even though it wasn't necessary, she was already very wet for him. Joseph placed the tip at her entrance, entering her slowly, enjoying her warmth and how tight she was. (y/n) moaned into his mouth and wrapped her legs around his waist, driving him deep inside her.
"You like it?" He asked in a slow but deep rhythm, letting her take all of him.
"I'm lovin 'it." She groaned closing her eyes in pleasure.
"Hey, hey. Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me." Joseph said placing one of his hands on her jaw, forcing her to look at him, which she did.
Joseph continued his slow pace for a few seconds, letting her get used to his size and he to her warm interior. Little by little, his thrusts increased in rhythm making it difficult for both of them to contain their moans. (y/n) brought her hands to his back, caressing him and occasionally digging her nails in when he hit her cervix hard. Their eyes were on the other, making that moment something more intimate and passionate. Something that no one could ever forget.
Joseph's thrusts became more violent and stronger. The sound of their skins clashing and their moans became constant, bouncing around the great living room. Joseph pulled away to place one of (y/n)'s legs on his shoulder, fucking her in new places and giving her even more pleasure. The walls of (y/n) contracted around his throbbing cock, warning him that she would soon reach his climax.
"Are you going to cum? Huh?" Joseph asked in his agitated voice. She nodded her head desperately. "Talk to me, darling."
Before she could speak, Joseph swung his other leg over his shoulder, making the pleasure uncontrollable for both of them. (y/n) brought one of her hands to her clitoris, massaging it in a circular motion. Joseph growled at the sight and at the way the walls of it hugged his cock.
"Yeah. I'm going to cum Joe!" She groaned feeling a great pressure build up in her navel.
He kept pounding her hard, enjoying how his balls slammed into her ass and her fluids wet his thighs. Joseph took one of his hands to her navel while the other went to her neck, squeezing it slightly.
"I can feel my cock inside you, so good…" He groaned through his teeth. "Come with me, do it.."
(y/n)'s legs trembled and her toes fingers tensed at the Brit's words. She clung tightly to Joseph's large back, feeling her orgasm come. Joseph covered her moans by kissing her, continuing to thrust into her with need despite how sensitive she was. (y/n) enjoyed her climax following his passionate kiss, noting that he was also close to his release. Joseph moved away from her and the hand that was on her neck moved to be next to the other on her navel, pressing it and holding it in place.
"Uh, your pussy is so fine!" Moan absorbed by the pleasure. "So good I'm going to cum in it."
It took only a few thrusts for Joseph to climax with a grunt of pleasure as well. He stayed inside her for a few seconds, calming his breathing and the slightest tremor in his legs. He then stepped out of her to remove the condom and place it on top of the package on the floor. Joseph lay down next to (y/n), hugging her around the waist and placing her head on his chest. They were silent for a few minutes, enjoying the silence and the warmth radiating from each other's bodies.
"I'll figure out how to visit you later." He murmured stroking her bare arm, referring to when it was time to go back to London. "I don't mean just the sex. I really enjoyed your company tonight, (y/n)."
She raises her head to look carefully, memorizing every detail of his face that each time seemed to her the most beautiful thing in the world.
"Same here, JoeJoe." The named laughed lightly, making her giggle. "Later we will see how to meet again but now I think the best thing is that we go to my room before the others arrive."
They both looked around and at the mess they had caused. Their clothes all over the room and several pillows on the floor, not to mention their naked bodies on the sofa.
"You're right, little rockstar." (y/n) smiled at the nickname. "How about a second round?"
"Sounds great to me, starboy."
taglist!
@kellysimagines
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sugar-petals · 2 years
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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
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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.“
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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.
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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.
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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.
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read it on ao3
© 2017-2022 sugar-petals. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed. all depictions are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.
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l0standn0tf0und · 2 years
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the seventh part of my favorite fics with Little Beautiful Gorgeous Breathtaking Talented Meow Meow
first part
second part
third part
fourth part
fifth part
sixth part
* - smut
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I'll sit here, with my arms wrapped around you, all night
I really do love you (😭the reason of my mental breakdown, such a good work)
the part of me i’ll always need
♡shy boy (everyone, do you hear me? I mean everyone, drop anything you're doing now, and read this one and the one below. because these are pure perfection)
♡prompt 17
♡in need of some extra love
♡let's just cuddle?
♡I'll kiss you again (if every time I re-read this I received a coin, then I would be a millionaire. I'm dead serious, I've re-read it for a shitload of times, this fic deserves all the time in the world to be spent on reading it)
♡love is in the small things
♡fluffy abc (14k of perfect representation of relationships with thomas. 14k of sweetness. 14k of perfectly described temper of thomas. and simply 14k of words that will bring you comfort and calm)
♡all my friends told me you’d break my heart*
♡satin, lace, and other pretty things p.2 & p.3* (these are favorite smut fics ever)
♡the taste of it* (no, I've changed my mind, this! is my favorite smut fic ever)
♡lesson one: it's all about anticipation*
♡lesson four: take matters into your own hands*
♡lesson six: the choice is yours*
♡hacred heart - tainted church* (someone, for the God's sake, call firefighters , this fic is too hot)
♡loosing it (part 1)*
all the love to the authors of all these masterpieces: @cuzimitaliano @eyoricka @tempobrucera @mywritingonlyfans @idyllicbutterfly @writingmaneskin @filthforfriends @oro-e-diamanti ❤️
masterlist
add yourself to my taglist
sweeties from my taglist🥰: @that-one-ma-blog @littlebitchsposts @shadowhuntyi @imjustanerdwholikestoread @britishmoonchild @maneslut @iamtashaquinn @icarodamiano @butkutee @writingmaneskin @theimpossiblehologramtree @little-moonbeam-666 @ilwiwbysmv @cc0le @oro-e-diamanti @inari-zaheer @superchrystaldrug @hiraetheral @que--sera--sera @iosonoarina @idyllicbutterfly @weareoddlydrawn @teenyweenynightghost (feel free and let me know if you wanna be removed from the tag list)
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maraudersmyloves · 30 days
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─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆。゚. ───
Pairing: James Potter x rockstar!reader
Warnings: The reader is a celebrity flirting with a fan so some power dynamic stuff
Word count: 1.3 k
Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!
Songs in this: Honey (are u coming?) by Maneskin
"Oh God". :☆。゚. ───
Previous part
You don't think you'll ever get used to the feeling that washes over you the hour before going on stage. It's a weird mix of calm and chaos that's so very distinct to only this Situation. It's doing last sound and outfit checks while panicking trying to find your eyeliner because you all insisted on doing your own make-up and hair. It's smoking a blunt while Dorcas is running around searching for a sticker she wants to put on her microphone before the show. It's hearing the fans get louder in front of the stage and imagining what kind of signs they'll have prepared while trying to get Regulus' earring in. It's Evan and Barty screaming at each other because Evan is sure Barty stole his drumsticks while Pandora and Dorcas try to convince him to just use different ones.
But even that doesn't compare to the last moments before entering the stage. It's eerily quiet. Yes, you can hear the fans screaming but the voices really just fade into each other to form a big white noise machine. You look around to make sure everyone is in their positions while adjusting the height of your micro. Evan on the drums, Barty on the Bass, Dorcas, and Regulus on the guitar, and Pandora standing in front of her keyboard.
In these last moments, you like to focus on one thing and study it to calm yourself. Today it's the microphones. Your's is silver and bedazzled and the only one that's easily removable from its stand since you walk around the most (apart from Barty). On the bottom of it is a little pink heart doodle you drew on the day of the Emeralds' first big concert. Pandora's is light blue with a self made 3D butterfly on it. She made it about a month ago and very proudly showed it off at your next show. Barty and Regulus don't have one, Regulus because he doesn't really like to sing and only does so in about two songs, and Barty because he couldn't keep still and just always sang into others micros anyway. Dorcas has a basic black one or that's what it would be if she didn't slap any stickers she can find on it. The first layer of stickers isn't even visible anymore. Evan is the only one with a headset because leaning out to get to the microphone while playing the drums is too annoying for him.
Through their earpieces, the countdown starts and everything seems to slow down. You can feel the goosebumps overcome your skin and you have to shake yourself once to calm down.
Evan and Pandora sing the first lines before the curtain falls down but you can hear the screams getting louder and a smile tugs at your lip.
"Honey, are you coming?"
Evan's loud scream in unison with the drop of the curtain makes something click and all of a sudden everything is clear. You can see the first few rows and like always you start to scan the audience for someone cute while the guitars are playing. And wouldn't you guess, there he is. Front row and staring at you in awe.
He's cute. Probably about 6'2 with a big muscly figure and messy dark curls. His eyes are like honey and you can't help but return his stare. He smiles like the sun and you know it's over. You feel the need to write a love song right this second but the current song will help too. It's a fun and flirty song mostly written by Dorcas and Barty and you can't help but hold eye contact while singing.
/I know a place downtown, babe, if you wanna go/
You're a bit too breathless for you're liking. Sure there's a hot guy in your audience but that's really not that big of a deal. You see hot people all the time. You worked with models for a few shows, god dammit
Dorcas takes over for a while which might be your saving grace as it allows you to take a deep breath and remind yourself to just flirt, have fun, and don't start anything serious. He's a fan after all.
You wrap both hands around your micro while and sing while looking the hot stranger up and down.
/And if it sounds good for you, baby, just say the word/
/You will li-i-i-i-i-ike it/
You run your hands down your body suggestively, take the micro out of the stand, and walk closer to the edge of the stage finally tearing your eyes off the guy to look at the mass of people in front of you.
You often perform this big but it's still so incredible. You don't think you'll ever get used to the fact that this many people enjoy your music.
/It's five AM/
/We feel so good, it's almost frightening/
You lean down to look at the hot guy again and startle when you realize how close you are. You can see every detail of his face, the little hazel freckles that are splattered across his iris, the beauty mark on his chin, and the little dimples
/I'm made for you, we can't deny it/
You wink at him and smirk when you can see his Adams apple bob down from swallowing.
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆。゚. ───
James has never been more overwhelmed and confused in his life. He came here planning to spy on his best mate's brother, who from what Sirius told him plays the guitar, he hasn't been able to confirm that yet though because he cannot tear his eyes away from the lead singer. When you made eye contact the first time he could've sworn he died but that could've been a coincidence, stars look at their fans. That's normal.
When you held eye contact while singing several lines and looked him up and down he had to stop himself from fainting.
Then you came towards him and leaned down to look at him up close. And that was it. He is in love. Now, this might be a bit much seeing as he's never spoken to you but then he was never known for his ability to take things slow.
/It's not a one night stand if it turns into two/
Because this stunning girl is looking at him while singing about one-night stands with a spark in her eye as if she wants to fuck him right then and there.
/Oh, I li-i-i-i-i-ike it/
Your voice is a little breathy as you sink down on your knees and he has to take a second to cool himself down. This causes him to finally look at his best mate next to him who is staring at the black haired guitar player. They do look very alike and judging from the look on Pads face this is very hard for him. They both have that sharp bone structure with startling light eyes and black curly hair.
James wants to kick himself for not even thinking about that but he can't when he can see you look at him from the corner of his eyes. It's like his eyes are automatically pulled to you.
/Honey, are you coming?/
it's a loud scream and the music abruptly stops, getting replaced by the booming sound of applause.
You let out a breathless laugh at the sound of this incredibly loud applause and take a moment to close your eyes and let this feeling soke in. You turn around to look at your other band members and are met with a unison look of amazement. This is the last show of the tour and you already kind of miss this.
Then as if on clock word without some sort of sign you all scream, "Hello London!"
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Note
Can you please do a Damiano fell in love with his long time friend/band mate (reader) who is the backup singer (bc their voices complement each others perfectly) and writes a song about her and sings it to her on stage, confessing his love. (the other band mates know abt it).
I’m in my delusional era
Only Angel | Damiano David
Pairing: Damiano David x fem!reader (Måneskin bandmate)
Summary: You were in love with him for a very long time, but you didn't know that he loved you back. Until he decided to do something about it.
Warning/s: pet name (angel), just a little bit of good all angst, smut +18, degradation, teasing, prising, dom/sub, few curse words, mentions of alcohol and weed, cigarettes, mentions of one night stands, grammar and spelling mistakes, Google translated Italian (sorry, please tell me in the comments if I made any mistakes so I can fix them)
Author's note: This one's been a long time coming, but enjoy!
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I saw this angel
I really saw an angel
Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see
That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me
I'm just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth
And there's nothing I can do about it
Damiano could still remember the first time he met her.
She was the first singer that Måneskin (Back then just Victoria and Thomas) recruited for the band. He could remember it as if it was yesterday.
His hands were sweating as hell as he walked through the hallway of a "made up", improved studio that belongs to the future, back-then-still-in-making, rock band Måneskin. He remembered how nervous he was, but that nervousness compared to the one he experienced as he walked into the studio was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a big deal at all.
As he reached his stop, he looked up and saw a guy with blonde hair messing with his guitar, and he saw a blonde haired girl standing next to him, watching him. They didn't notice him just yet.
Damiano turned his head away from them and decided to focus his gaze on a girl sitting in a chair with a pen and journal in her hands, ashtray sitting on the armrest of the chair. She was lightly gripping the pen as she wrote and crossed and scrambled the words on a piece of paper in the journal. Her (h/l) (h/c) covered her eyes slightly. He could clearly see her red lips moving, even tho she had a half finished cigarette in her mouth. She was probably mumbling the word of the, what was probably, a song she was writing.
She was mumbling so quietly, but somehow he could still hear her voice. It was beautiful, he felt like he was falling into a trans. He felt himself freezing like a deer in headlights when he saw her look up at him.
Her face steached into a smile, cigarette no longer lingering on her lips as she reached out and placed it on an ashtray. Her (e/c) shining like the sun, her hair no longer covering them from him. She stood up and started to walk up to him. That's the moment when Vic and Thomas noticed him, too.
He noticed the grace she was carrying herself with. It was as if she was floating. It was a sight to behold for sure.
"Ciao! Tu devi essere Damiano David." [Hi! You must be Damiano David.] She said and he felt like his breath was knocked out of his lungs when he heard her angelic voice speak to him.
"SÌ. Quello... sono io." [Yes. That's me.] He stuttered for a bit and that shocked him to his core. He never stuttered before, it felt weird. He didn't like that.
"Sorprendente. Io sono (Y/N) e loro sono Thomas e Victoria." [Amazing. I'm (Y/N) and this is Thomas and Victoria.] She introduced herself, Thomas and Vic.
And so, after a few quick hellos were exchanged, they pulled him in front of the mic and they preformed one song with him and one where he had to sing alone. It turned out that (Y/N) and he sing together perfectly. Their voices simply sound so good together. However, since that day something followed Damiano. Something that he couldn't quite place for a little bit.
Broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door
I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor
Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short
But I think that's what I like about it
She's an angel
Only angel
She's an angel
My only angel
Over the years Damiano and (Y/N) started to get closer and closer to each other.
At first it was innocent, truly. The two of them would talk with each other more than they would with Vic, Thomas or Ethan. Everyone soon noticed how close they were. They started to become very good friends. They had a lot of thing in common. They liked the same music, the same artists, everything! They somehow never ran out of topics to have a conversation about. It was amazing, really.
They would go out to get coffee, pizza, they went to bars and local parties together. They would come to each other's houses and just watch TV and get drunk or, sometimes even, high. They would drink some shitty wine that they would find in some shitty liquor store and would fall asleep on top of each other on the couch.
They would write and sing songs with each other. They liked each other's voices, but most of all, they liked how they sounded together. A match made in heaven, indeed.
However, over the years something changed. As they grew, the band did, too and so did their feelings for one another. Damiano watched everything she did whenever she was in his presence. He practically adored the ground she was walking on. It was amazing to experience. And to watch, too.
Vic was the first one to notice, of course. She would easily notice the longing glances that they would send each other while they thought that nobody was looking. She tried to talk to them about it. They would just brush it off.
"She is just my best friend, come on, Vic!"
"He's just a friend to me. Nothing more!"
Of course, Vic wasn't stupid, and neither were Thomas and Ethan. They soon figured what was up, too. The three musicians really tried everything in their power to get them to know what the other was feeling, but it felt like it was impossible to do that.
The problem was that Damiano and (Y/N) thought that the other didn't like them like that. And so from one problem, another one was born.
One night stands.
They both thought that if they see other people they could push their feelings away. However, when did that work out?
Damiano could still remember it. He walked down the hallway of the hotel that they were staying in because of their performance in New York. He watched her and some random guy practically eat each other's faces as she started to push him into her hotel room.
The last thing that he saw were the stains of red lipstick before he started doing it two.
I must admit I thought I'd like to make you mine
As I went about my business through the warning signs
End up meeting in the hallway every single time
And there's nothing we can do about it
Damiano had officially had enough. Watching her bringing guy after guy in her hotel room, him bringing girl after girl. It was too much. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't just stand aside as he watched and heard everything those guys did when it should be him doing it to his angel.
So one night he gathered his courage and knocked on her door so hard he almost got splinters in his knuckles from the wooden door. The moment she opened the door he spilled his feelings to her and so this is how they ended up there.
Damiano was quick to notice a bruise in the corner of her neck. Her pathetic attempt to cover it with her hair was not doing it. He felt anger fill his body to the brim. He knew that he had no reason to be angry, she wasn't his. Perhaps that was what angered him.
"You seem angry." (Y/N) was quick to point it out, her face forming a concerned look. "Why are you mad?"
"I'm not mad." Damiano spat out, proving her point. "I just think that you can choose better people to share spit with, angel. That's all."
"Excuse me?!" (Y/N) couldn't help but to yell in his face in the middle of the hallway. "What the hell is wrong with you, Damiano?"
"Was it worth it?" He asked her, his voice dangerously low. It send shivers down her spine.
"Is you hating me right now your new personality trait?"
She knew that that wasn't justified. She knew how bold of her that was. She knew that he didn't actually hate her, at least she hoped that he didn't. The truth was that she grew nervous under his gaze. His gaze, his tone, sudden realization of what he was talking about... it made her nervous as hell. She didn't know what to do.
"Was it worth it?" He kept his voice low and she knew that she couldn't avoid the topic any longer as much as she wanted to.
"I don't know what to say, Damiano."
"Oh, don't bullshit me, (Y/N)!" Damiano's voice rang in the hallway of the huge hotel in the middle of New York. He didn't give a flying fuck that it was night. That her "neighbors" were probably asleep. He didn't care about anything but his angel.
"Watcing you with so many guys who can't give you what I can... it draw me crazy." He finally confessed as he watched her in science of the hallway, frozen, confused. "You still don't get it, do you? It's because I love you."
"Now I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't feel the same way." Damiano told her as he pinned her against the door of her bedroom. Her breath getting stuck in her throat as she listened to his rough voice speak. "Just then I will leave you alone."
"I can't." She whispered, feeling so small compared to him right now.
"And why is that, angel."
"Because... I'm not even gonna lie, I'm just so fucking obsessed with you, you have no idea."
That's all he needed.
Told it to her brother and she told it to me
That she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see
When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets
And there's nothing she can do about it
Hey, hey
His lips felt so familiar yet so unknown to her. His breathing had become more strained.
"Damn it all to hell, if I don't get to have you tonight then I'm never going to be able to have you."
"Who says it has to be that way." (Y/N) said as she gasped in pleasure as he started to suck the skin on her neck.
His muscles tensed with every thrust. She finally allowed herself to sink into the mattress, into her pillow. She finally allowed herself to have him and for him to have her. She felt his hands flattering against her spine as he drew her closer to him as if that was physically possible.
"Arch your back for me, angel."
She felt herself gasping in pleasure as she did what he asked her to do. It was hard for him to contain his own sounds, too, as he pumped his thick throbbing cock into her at a constant pace.
"Please..." she was getting overwhelmed with him continuously hitting the right spot deep inside of her.
He grabbed her ankles and lifted her ankles to place them around his waist. She was practically screaming as he continued to split her wet pussy at rapid speed. She continued to shudder as he sped up his pace.
"Bet you they don't make you sound like that, do they, angel?"
"Ah- I-"
"Do they!?"
"NOO!" She barely gasped. "They don't... only you can do- ahh- this to mee!"
She openly moaned, screaming as Damiano's cock started swelling and stretching her tight pussy even more then before. And as her orgasm hit, she began to cry. He didn't care, he continued to thrust repeatedly, no signs of stopping or at least slowing down.
"I want you to remember everything fucking seconds of this."
She was overstimulated, but the tears of pleasure continued to flow.
He suddenly pulled out, erotic sound of cum mixed together filled the deafening silence in her room. He's fiery kisses started to trail down to her soaked pussy. Soon he started to suck her clit, but he moved away when he felt your hands on his head. He removed his tongue as he repositioned himself near your ass.
"Mhh!" (Y/N) tried to gain her voice back so she could speak again. "Don't! Too much!"
"Shhh... my beautiful angel." He cooed to her. "I'm sure that you've got one more in you. Will you be a good little angel and take what I have to give you?" His words were mocking and teasing at the same time as she nodded her head as much as she could before she pushed herself further into her pillow.
"Good girl."
He slowly began to enter her again, he was lubricated by her dripping juices. The thrusts began to increase again as she screamed his name, shaking. However, soon she found herself moving to meet his rough, pleasurable thrusts, which synchronized.
She was drowning in pleasure, she couldn't comprehend what was happening anymore. However she knew one thing, every time that fat cock hit her cervix, she got closer and closer to her much needed release.
She's an angel
Only angel
She's an angel
My only angel
She's an angel
Only angel
She's an angel
My only angel
Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight
Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight
Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight
The stadium was big. The light were truly blinging (Y/N). The adrenaline was pumping through your veins. She was so happy, so full of euphoria even tho her throat felt so sore from all the singing and her muscles were hurting her.
On the other hand Damiano felt like he was going to faint. Yes, he was euphoric and happy, too. He was so happy and excited for the even bigger future of Måneskin, but he felt nervous.
For years he was in love with this girl. He always gave his best to express it as best as he possibly could. But nothing felt good enough. His angel deserved the world, even more so. He loved her so much the fraze "to the moon and back" simply couldn't cut it.
So he decided to express his love for her in a way that he did best. He wrote her a song. And so with a deep breath, and Victoria's pep talk before he went on the stage, he stepped forward.
"How are we feeling tonight, LA!?" Damiano shouted and his shout was followed by screaming and clapping of the fans.
"So tonight you are going to hear a song you have never heard before!! You excited!!??"
Damiano had to cover his ears a little because the screaming of the fans became a little bit too much. Still he found himself laughing with excitement. Like he always did. He looked a little to the side where (Y/N) was standing so he could take a little peak at her face. Confused was not a good enough word to explain the look on her face when she heard what Damiano had said and Vic, Thomas nor Ethan didn't say anything. He wrote a song? Without me? (Y/N) though to herself.
"This song I will sing alone." Damiano said and (Y/N) got even more confused.
"You see, I met this girl a long time ago and I felt like I loved her the moment I saw her. I wanted to express my love to her and to the entire world so I wrote this song for her." Damiano continued.
The crowd was already loosing their minds as Damiano stepped took the microphone form it's stand, but when Damiano said the next words and started singing all hell broke loose.
"This song is for you, (Y/N). My only angel."
She's an angel
Only angel
She's an angel
My only angel
She's an angel
My only angel
She's an angel
My-my-my only angel
->
->
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TAGLIST
@opal-rugger
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taste-your-silhouette · 10 months
Text
I want to dance on your body
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Pairings: Damiano David xfem!reader
Contents: smut 
Summary: 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.
Words: ~2192
A/N: Hi, hello and please, forgive me again if you come across any errors while reading. I recommend you to play Touch Me and just enjoying ✨
You and your best friend are strolling into the party of some badass celeb she knows, she's probably already mentioned the name a million times, but you ain't giving much of a damn, you just wanna hit up a party, grab a few drinks, and bust some moves. Have a blast and enjoy yourself!
As you and your friend make your way through the entrance, you exchange a sly grin while vibrant, trippy lights groove to the beat throughout the crib. Side by side, you advance towards the dance floor, and your friend chimes in:
"Alright, let's have a fucking blast tonight," she says with a grin, and a contagious smile spreads across your face as well.
You were both pumped for this party and ready to let loose and enjoy yourselves to the max.
In a split second, she grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bar, where a bunch of peeps are lining up, ordering their go-to drinks, all geared up to hit the dance floor again. You step up to the bartender and request your ultimate drink, downing it in a single gulp before quickly ordering another shot and doing it all over again.
The drink ignites a fire within you, fueling you with energy and liquid courage to fully embrace the moment, without a care in the world. No worries, just pure enjoyment.
You and your friend head straight to the dance floor, grooving together to the sick beats. But before long, someone swoops in and starts getting their groove on with her, leaving you to your own devices. No biggie though, it doesn't faze you one bit. You keep on dancing as if the music is pumping right through your veins.
Eyes closed, you immerse yourself in the moment, feeling the heat of someone's body swaying alongside yours. Whoever it is, they sense your awareness and since you don't brush them off, they casually rest their hand on your waist, getting even closer in their moves. Your ass is the only thing touching him as you dance with a touch of sensuality right there on the dance floor. The electricity builds up as you grind with this mysterious dancer behind you, sending tingles down your spine.
You both bust some moves together for three consecutive songs, and it's as if you're in perfect harmony. The dance isn't just about showing off or impressing each other; it's about creating something extraordinary between you.
As the beats thump on, you suddenly hear his voice whispering in your ear, "Finally, someone who's up for it." 
It tempts you to ask what he means, but you decide against it. You don't want to risk blurting out something silly and ruining the magical vibe of what just went down. So, you simply let the moment linger, cherishing the mystery and excitement that swirls around you.
You sense the hint of a smile against your cheek, and it elicits a light-hearted chuckle from you. It's best to leave it at that and keep relishing in the night's pleasures.
You turn your gaze towards him, even though the lights make it difficult to see his face clearly. Nevertheless, you can tell that he's undeniably attractive (and damn, he can dance like nobody's business).
It's time to get another drink!
As you reach the bar, you order another drink, but this time you savor it slowly, relishing every drop of that boozy sting as it glides down your throat. The flavors dance on your tongue, creating a delightful sensation.
Before you're about to leave the bar, the stranger appears by your side once more, placing an order for two drinks. Now, with a clearer view of his face, you can't help but smile as your gaze locks onto his handsome features.
He returns the smile and pops the question:
"Care for another drink?"
You nod in agreement, and with that, you both exchange proper introductions. Skipping the dance floor this time, you snag two primo seats at the bar, engaging in a conversation that flows as if you've been pals for ages.
Damiano and you have reached a level where you're familiar with the key aspects of each other's lives. It's not something you typically do, spilling your guts to strangers, but under the influence of alcohol and with the enchantment Damiano has cast upon you, it feels natural to engage in heartfelt conversation.
He suggests, "How about finding a more quiet spot?"
The idea resonates with you, and you nod in agreement, intrigued by the prospect of finding a quieter place where you can continue this magical connection.
You flash him a mischievous smile and take hold of his hand, leading him away from the lively dance floor and the bustling bar. As you pass through the living room, your eyes catch sight of numerous unoccupied couches, and you can't resist the temptation. You abruptly halt, tugging on his hand to bring him to a stop, and in a matter of seconds, both of you find yourselves sprawled out on one of the cozy couches.
Damiano's hands be all up in his waist as you're locking lips in a way that has both of you gasping for breath, but you don't give a damn. You feel Damiano's hands on your thighs, giving them a tight squeeze as you continue kissing you, and you let out a moan, trying to catch your breath and satisfy the intense desire he's been arousing in you since you started dancing together.
"Allright?" he asks you.
You nod eagerly, craving his touch on every inch of your body, as his hand traces a path from your thigh to your clit.
"Holy crap," you moan, overcome with pleasure.
He slid your underwear aside, skillfully rubbing your clit at a tantalizingly slow pace. The way he teased you was driving you wild. You rested your head on his shoulder, attempting to conceal your flushed face while muffling your moans as best you could.
"Oh fuck," you whispered, the pleasure intensifying as he increased his pace, making it even more challenging to stifle your cries.
"It's okay, let go. Everyone's too drunk to notice us," he playfully remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.
His words gave you the permission you needed, and you couldn't help but release your moans. They weren't overly loud, but they would definitely catch the attention of anyone who wasn't lost in their own drunken haze.
"Good girl," he murmured into your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine.
The fire inside you burned hotter and hotter, your moans growing louder with each passing moment. All sense of shame vanished, replaced only by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.
"I'm close!" you moaned, your voice filled with desperate need. And just as you uttered those words, the climax washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.
"That was... amazing," you whispered, still catching your breath from the intensity of the experience.
He hinted at taking the rendezvous to his hotel for more privacy, and you could sense the anticipation building. He stood up, extending his hand towards you, and you eagerly took it, rising to your feet. Adjusting your dress, you both made your way out of the bustling party.
Upon arriving at his hotel room, he opened the door slowly, pulling you inside. As you stepped into the room, your eyes took in the sight of scattered papers on the king-size bed. Being a singer in a band, it was no surprise that he had been busy writing songs, the creative process evident in the disarray around you.
"Will you write a song about tonight?" you asked, a hint of anticipation in your voice. As the door closed and clicked, Damiano wasted no time. He swiftly unbuttoned his white shirt, discarding it onto the dresser.
"Probably," he replied, his gaze fixed on you as he moved closer. With a deft hand, he skillfully removed your dress, casting it aside without a second thought. Now, standing before him in nothing but your underwear, you felt a surge of confidence.
His eyes tracing over your body, and he couldn't help but confess:
"You look... amazing." His voice dripped with admiration and desire, fueling the intensity of the moment.
He placed his hands firmly on your hips, just as he had done earlier, and leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You reciprocated, savoring the taste of his lips, and instinctively placed your hands on his face, deepening the connection between you.
Feeling the intensity between you both, he reached down and firmly gripped one of your legs, lifting it up and resting it on his hip. The sensation heightened, and you could feel him more intimately. With a surge of desire, he broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of lust and admiration and in a bold move, he swiftly switched his hold to your other thigh, lifting you effortlessly and pressing you against the wall. The rush of being carried and pinned against the solid surface added an exhilarating edge to the moment, intensifying the passion and desire that consumed you both.
You locked eyes with each other, the intensity building with each passing moment, until he couldn't resist any longer and leaned in to capture your lips in another passionate kiss. The room seemed to ignite with fervor as the kiss deepened, fueled by an overwhelming desire.
Both of you were breathless, your bodies craving more. With a sense of urgency, Damiano swept you off your feet and carried you to the edge of the bed, gently placing you there. He swiftly cleared the clutter of papers that had occupied the bed, letting them cascade to the floor, clearing the space for your intimate encounter.
As he turned his attention back to you, his eyes filled with admiration and desire. He leaned in closer, his voice a soft whisper against your skin:
"You're so beautiful, you look like an angel." His hand caressed your face tenderly, tracing the contours with gentle affection.
You smirked mischievously, pulling him closer to you, your desire evident in your eyes. 
"I could say the same for you, but how about we go to heaven together?" You whispered seductively, your lips grazing his neck on her before playfully biting down.
In an instant, it seemed like something ignited within Damiano. He firmly gripped your neck, exerting a delicious control, and guided you down onto the bed. His lips trailed along your neck, seeking out your sweet spot, and when he found it, he indulged in it wildly. Leaving a trail of hickeys and bites in his wake for him, he marked you as his own for him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping it tightly as you let out soft moans of pleasure.
The intensity grew as Damiano skillfully removed your panties, unveiling your desires. The air crackled with anticipation as your bodies yearned for the connection that awaited them.
"Are you wet for me, huh?" He sensually bites his lip while locking eyes with you.
He moans in delight as he gently inserts his cock into your pussy, igniting waves of pleasure.
Bestowing upon you the most sublime ecstasy.
He moves his hips with deliberate grace, thrusting in and out, synchronizing your desires.
"Oh, fuck!" you passionately moan, your voice filled with pure bliss.
Damiano smirks, his confidence growing, and intensifies his rhythm, heightening your desire.
As you lose yourself in the throes of passion, your hand instinctively covers your mouth, but Damiano forcefully removes it, yearning to hear your euphoric symphony.
"No, I wanna hear you when you go to heaven, y/n," he whispers with fervor.
You affirm with a nod, surrendering to the divine pleasure that awaits you.
You moan Damiano's name as he intensifies the rhythm of his thrusts, causing your head to fall back onto his plush pillows.
"Oh, Damiano, I'm so close!" 
"Come, y/n, cum to me," he asserts, his voice laced with longing.
You struggle to hold back, determined to hear him plead, but his relentless stimulation of your spot makes it nearly impossible. The pleasure is simply too overwhelming.
"Come, y/n," Damiano groans, his voice filled with urgency.
You tighten your grip around him and succumb to the waves of ecstasy he elicits. As you reach the pinnacle of pleasure with him, he remains motionless, deeply embedded within you, his body collapsing onto yours, a resounding groan of your name escaping his lips.
The intensity of the moment consumes you, as he pours every ounce of himself into you, leaving you both utterly spent and satisfied.
You both were breathless and drenched in perspiration, your legs entwined with his.
"I wanna go to heaven with you again" Damiano whispers, his face inches away from yours.
You smile, gazing into their eyes, and you can see the unmistakable lust and desire reflected in him. You hope that he can also perceive the depth of your yearning and how much you desire the very same thing he does.
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tempobrucera · 11 months
Text
Linger
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Pairing: Thomas x Reader Wordcount: 2.2k Summary: 5 times you want to ask Thomas to stay the night but don’t + 1 time Thomas stays Warnings: Fluff, some yearning - I guess A/N: Short and sweet (short isn’t what I am known for and the other ones are getting much longer again) and probably not really good but I need to get myself back to writing. So many ideas are still waiting for me, next ones are gonna be another Thomas (smut) one and some more poly fics.
Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist
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One
You can’t really remember when you thought about it the first time. About Thomas staying the night. Thomas in your bed, next to you, keeping you warm. The first time you thought about asking him to stay you can remember however. 
After everyone already left Thomas decided to stay.
“I could have another drink,” he had smiled, “And another cigarette.”
And he stayed for another cigarette and drink right at your kitchen window. Lit cigarette in one hand, drink in the other. Your eyes followed his movements, how he moved the cigarette to his lips. How he inhaled, then exhaled. 
Internally you sighed, aware of your staring. 
First there was Thomas, who leaned outside the window, looking up at the sky with a frown. Just before a raindrop hit your own face. It started to rain down heavily in a few seconds. Thomas flicked the cigarette out of the window before closing it.
“Do you have an umbrella for me?”
You did just shake your head, you don’t have one. You gave it to a friend a while ago and have not seen it since. There was another sigh from Thomas. 
That’s the first time you thought about asking him to stay the night. The image how you cuddle close, watch something silly before falling asleep, how you could touch him without worry. All the things you’re too afraid to ask for, you weren’t quite sure what he would think about it, if he would be surprised, confused, maybe even uncomfortable.
“Time to get wet then.” 
Thomas smiled at you before pulling you into a hug for a bit longer than usual.
Two
The next time it happens is about a month later. Thomas being home from tour for a few days and coming around when some friends are over for dinner. He brings a bottle of white wine. 
It’s a normal night, laughter, drinks, Thomas who compliments your pasta in front everyone, spaghetti still in his mouth. It has you blushing. 
You got closer over the last weeks. You feel like you are becoming a friend to him. But with that your longing also intensifies. A burning little flame somewhere close to your heart. You’re surprised that no one has called you out about it by now. Sometimes you can’t take your eyes off him, when he laughs or when he’s silly and cute. When he pouts at Vic. When he plays guitar which someone just put into his arms in a bar. Someone should have noticed by now but even Thomas himself seems to be oblivious to it. Sometimes he just looks back at you - and smiles.
Once again he stays behind again when everyone leaves. Even helps you clean dishes, hums some melody next to you. He looks tired, there are dark circles under his eyes. You want to brew him a cup of tea, wrap him into a blanket and wait until he falls asleep. But there’s that fear of him looking at you out of big eyes and to scare him away. That he could think that you’re too clingy. The fear of the awkwardness the question could bring.
He laughs about a stupid joke you tell him when you’re back in the living room. He looks good sprawling his long limbs all over your sofa and he doesn’t look like he’s planning on leaving soon. It’s already two o’clock in the morning. And for the first time you’re talking about something that goes deeper, that feels like a connection. 
You want to ask him to stay when he hugs you goodbye two hours later. But you don’t. And Thomas leaves, you can feel the brush of his lips against your cheek.
Three
The third time has you laughing and Thomas muttering under his breath. Thomas just came back inside from smoking on your balcony. 
“What did you do?” You laugh.
He’s only in one shoe - the other one missing.
“Fell through the railing when I stretched my legs.” 
“You don’t want to get it back?”
“And then some weirdo grabbed it and ran away.”
You snort. 
“For real?”
“For real.”
He sits down next to you and puts his head on your shoulder. He started to be closer to you, also on a physical level. It makes your cheeks heat up and sets a colony of insects free in your chest. Everytime his fingertips are brushing your skin, everytime he hugs you close, when he whispers something against your shoulder and you can feel his breath. 
“I guess, you don’t have a pair to spare in my size?” He laughs and gets you out of your spiraling thoughts.
“No,” you laugh as well. But you could stay here. At least until the morning and someone could fetch you a pair, you think. But all you say is: “Sorry.”
“Looks like I’m gonna walk home barefoot then.”
Four
Another night, another night you want to ask Thomas to stay. 
It’s the last night of Sanremo. Vic is lounging on your couch with a drink in hand while Ethan and Thomas are sitting on the floor, Thomas has his head in Ethan’s lap until Vic throws a pillow at his head.
“You're going to be the next Damiano?” She laughs at him. 
Damiano left an hour ago, his social battery running low. Vic rolled her eyes and made fun of him not helping the general situation until Ethan told her off and Damiano decided to flee out of your home. Now she’s throwing another pillow against Thomas' head. He looks up at her grumpily and the next cushion hits him square in the face. Ethan catches the next one while Thomas scrambles up from the floor, takes his drink and ends half on top of you not even a second later. 
You can see Ethan and Vic look at each other but they don’t comment. Thomas only cuddles closer and you brush your fingers through his hair, scratch his scalp. He sleeps through Vic jumping on the sofa, Ethan who moved up to sit next her telling her to fuck off when she jumps on his thighs and both yelling at the screen in Italian. He only wakes up when you whisper into his ear.
“Who won?” He yawns.
There’s no time to answer him as Vic already screams Ice Cream time and Ethan tries to shush her.
“You’re like a five year old on a sugar high already,” Thomas mumbles. Somehow Ethan still trudges to your freezer and hands out cold sweetness to each of you.
Thomas feels like dead weight on your legs when Vic and Ethan go to get their jackets and shoes. Ethan comes back with Thomas’ stuff which he dumps on Vic when he sees that Thomas doesn’t move.
“Thomas, c’mon.” Ethan mutters. “Or do I have to carry you out of here?”
You want to say that he can stay. In your lap, just like he is. Half asleep but Ethan and Victoria are both looking at you and everything you want to say dies somewhere in your throat. 
Thomas stretches his arms out to Ethan who picks him up with a sigh.
“Can some of you idiots please open the door for me and the bigger idiot in my arms?”
Five 
It’s already half a year since the thought crossed your mind the first time. 
They just came off stage and Thomas hugs you as sweaty as he is. Grinning and twirling you around a little bit. You laugh. The moment ends when Damiano gives Thomas a friendly slap to the shoulder and he lets you down. 
There’s dinner, drinks and dancing when they’re all showered and in their day clothes again. Thomas who chases after you on the sidewalk when you go back to the hotel. Thomas who weasels himself into your room before you can protest, throws himself on your bed - shoes still on, turns on the TV and grabs for the menu that’s on the nightstand.
“We just had a three course meal?”
“That was hours ago,” he looks at you offended, “I’m still growing.”
“Where are you still growing?”
He looks back at you and blushes. You’re sure you’re getting redder than him. Before one of you can say something Thomas buries his nose in the menu and you lock yourself in the bathroom. 
When you come back Thomas is sprawled out on your bed munching on some steak fries. He is completely occupied by the documentary that’s on TV. He only looks at you when you crawl into bed next to him, he gives you a slice of apple cake.
“You said cake is always a good snack,” he says before you can question it.
He’s right, you did say it but that was months ago. 
The point of the night where you can’t keep your eyes open anymore reaches sooner than you want to. Thomas moves next to you, takes the plate out of your hand, covers you up with the blankets. You force yourself to open your eyes and for one silly second you think he’s going to kiss you. He’s only kissing your cheek like he did so many times the last few months. 
“I should leave.”
But he’s still lingering on your bed next to you. As all the times before you want to tell him to stay. You’re sure you’ll feel lonely the second he closes the door behind himself, you would love his company and waking up wouldn’t be such a tragedy when you would wake up next to him. But there’s still the worry to freak him out, that you’re too desperate. 
“Good night.”
You can hear the almost silent click of the doo that announces that he’s gone.
Plus One
It happens again when Vic shows up at your place for a movie night. To your surprise she has Thomas in tow who gives you a small wave and a smile before he bites his lips. 
“Brought a chaperone,” Vic looks at you apologetically, “Damiano said I need to be supervised. No party, no fun.” She rolls her eyes. You’re asking yourself why Thomas of all people has to play the babysitter, it’s not like he’s known for saying no to a party or a wild night out. Maybe sometimes more tamed than her because as he said he loves his bed more than Vic would ever love a guy but still not the person you would have expected to look after her. 
“I thought we were only watching a film and drinking some wine anyways?”
“Great,” Vic says and ushers you into your own flat, “Thomas loves some wine and watching a movie.”
He looks like he wants to slap her and you’re sure he’s communicating to her without words, just with a look, at this moment. You raise an eyebrow but it is ignored.
You don’t think about it anymore when you’re all spread out across the living room. Wine and snacks between you. Thomas ends up with chips crumbs all over his shirt. Vic shakes her head: “Can’t take you anywhere, you’re a pig.”
Thomas just shrugs. 
“At least you’re a good reminder to myself why I shouldn’t go back to men. Your species is horrendous.”
He flips her off. 
Half way through the film they’re having another argument, Vic calling him a disgrace. You’re getting more wine. 
By the end of the film Thomas is asleep on your sofa while Victoria and you are sitting in your armchairs. Without thinking you get a thin blanket to wrap it over him. You blush when Victoria laughs. 
“Was a great evening,” Vic says when she gets up, “but I have to leave.”
When Victoria hugs you goodbye you finally ask: “And … What’s with him?”
“I’m certain he can find the way to the door himself. Or he doesn’t.” She winks. Then she’s gone.
You can’t bring it over yourself to wake him up just to kick him out. Which is why you let him in his peaceful slumber, you press a kiss to his forehead before you go to bed.
You almost scream when you wake up in the middle of the night, someone behind you in your bed. You’re close to a heart attack and the panic sets in.
“Sorry,” Thomas whispers, “Shit, sorry, it’s just me.”
“God, you scared me.”
“That was stupid,” he admits, “Sorry, sorry, that was a stupid idea.”
Only now you realise that Thomas has his arm wrapped around your waist, his face buried on your shoulder. 
“Sorry, I didn’t want to invade your space like this,” he says, “But … Can I stay?”
“I would like that,” you say when you turn in his arms. Thomas aims to kiss your cheek when you move the tiniest bit and his lips land on yours, your hand in his tousled hair.
He looks at you.
“Sorry, sorry,” now it’s your turn to apologise, “Sorry.”
Before you can flee from your own bed, he wraps one of his legs around you and gets you to kiss him again, this time deeper than before. 
“That means …,” he sounds a bit out of breath, “I don’t have to go back to the couch?”
.#####.
END.
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Taglist:  @writingmaneskin, @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall, @maneskinbrainrot, @little-moonbeam-666, @ethaneskin, @maneskin-dimensione, @l0standn0tf0und, @butkutee, @gr8rainbowpunk, @maneslut, @maneskintifoso, @weareoddlydrawn, @hiraetheral, @imjustanerdwholikestoread, @cuzimitaliano, @hopelessromantic727, @dating-villain, @maneskinsimp, @till-you-scream-and-cry, @wonderlandishell, @h1ppieth1ngs, @paralianeyes, @livvyysstuff, @que–sera–sera, @romanoffswoman, @lovelyy-moonlight, @crwnnjules, @roisinlove123, @whitewolf-writes, @lizzylynch1, @fugg1977, @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27, @cheese-toastie-11​
158 notes · View notes
pjisskullourful · 1 year
Text
𝘽𝙚𝙚𝙧-𝙁𝙡𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙉𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙨
🍺 Ethan × reader
NSFW 🚨 feels & filth, written by an adult for adults
° Ethan Torchio/female reader insert
° I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night || your boyfriend has had a bad day & you suggest cuddling up on the couch with a good movie to improve his mood [based 2020]
wordcount::::     3,835
° commissioned by my amazing nibling jace (@wow-ihateithere) 💋 thankyou for helping me pick the movie& for being so supportive
° spoiler alert for a movie released 20+ years ago ° none of the lyrics included were written by me
° [ITA]: amore: love - cara: dear
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“Are you ready for the movie?” You asked your boyfriend.
Ethan exhaled a thick puff of cigarette smoke as he turned to look at you. Instantly, you could tell that he had yet to step out of the shadow of the confrontation with his brother. Ethan’s typical expression was a thoughtful one, but after two years together, you could pick up on the subtle differences in his looks. You could identify that this was a look of extra contemplativeness.
It had happened earlier in the night, but you still didn’t know what the disagreement had been about. You had heard a portion of his side of the phone call, hearing the elevated voice and the many cusses. But you had left to give him privacy.
In the immediate aftermath, he had still been too worked up to discuss it. He didn’t know how to debrief, only able to tell you that his brother was being ‘an insensitive ass’.
So you had given him space to literally blow off steam. He hadn’t come to talk things out, instead just chain-smoking because he didn’t know how to express himself. You didn’t take it personally, knowing him well enough to know that this was simply one of those times when he was too internal.
But at nine o’clock, you felt that you had no choice other than to seek him out. You wanted to stay on schedule, to stick with what had been working for the two of you.
It had been three weeks of this pandemic lockdown. In an effort to break up the tedium and to be able to distinguish one day from another - you had decided to watch a movie together every night, alternating between who chose.
There were some nights when it had to be skipped over, when there was Måneskin business to take care of over Facetime.
It was something to look forward to - the couch, a seemingly endless amount of movies to stream, a cosy blanket and him. It was keeping the cabin fever away, but keeping him close.
He had another drag of his cigarette as he got up from his seat on the balcony. “Yep. It’s your pick tonight, right?”
“If you’re not in the right headspace to care about a movie at the moment, I promise that I won’t be disappointed.” You said as he approached the door where you stood.
“No. What am I gonna do, sit out here and smoke until sunrise?” He asked.
“We could find something else to do.”
“The movie will be a good distraction.” He said, finishing his cigarette. “Besides, I wanna see what you’ve got picked next for the line-up of classic teen movies.”
You smiled and held your hand out to him, making the decision that you were going to be the thing that lifted his mood. You would be peppy enough for the two of you. You would make him laugh. This night wasn’t entirely ruined, not on your watch.
He placed his hand in yours and you turned around, repositioning his arm to be wrapped around your shoulders. With him at your side and your fingers interlaced with his, you walked back into the apartment. He fell into step with you as you made your way to the lounge room.
“I hope that you’re ready for more teens not talking like teens, because tonight we’re watching 10 Things I Hate About You.” You said.
He sat down on the sofa. “Another one that I’ve never heard of… What is this one about?”
You cleared your throat as you placed yourself next to him. “Well, it’s about being an American teenager in the nineties. But this one is really great. I actually got super excited when my sister told me that it’s on Disney. It’s less chick flick-ie than the others- there isn’t any narration and there’s absolutely no makeover scenes. I think you’re gonna like it, it’s really funny.”
“Alright, fire it up.” He said, but you didn’t believe his enthusiasm.
You clicked through Disney Plus, finding the movie you had watched countless times. “Fun fact: this is based on a Shakespeare play. It’s an updated version. But I don’t remember which one…”
As the opening credits began to roll, you threw the blanket over your and your boyfriend’s laps, then scooted in even closer to him. You curled his hair behind his ear so that you could kiss him on the cheek as you cuddled into his side. His arm went around your shoulders as you wrapped yours around his waist.
You were holding him extra close to you - as close as you did when you felt you needed protection from one of his zombie movie selections.
It was impossible to know just how much of this movie he would truly enjoy. But you were certain that you could give him a comforting cuddle that would prove to be worth his time.
He was silent during the set-up of the movie, not laughing at any of the humorous beats of the character’s introductions. Glancing up at him, you saw that he hadn’t even cracked a smile yet. Seemingly, he wouldn’t be so easily entertained, not when he had so much on his mind. Currently, he wore a cloudy look on his face, hardly in sync with the lighthearted start to the movie.
His first comment came as the heroine sat reading a book after her day at school. “Of course she’s reading fuckin’ Sylvia Plath.”
“Yeah, do you think that’s the first time she’s ever read The Bell Jar, or…?” You asked of the notoriously depressing novel.
“This is my first time seeing this movie, but I can guarantee you that yes, she’s read that before.” He said and you were pleased to find him interacting with the movie.
But his first laugh didn’t come until you said something perfectly in time with one of the characters on screen. You matched Michael’s tone of voice, raising your eyes so that you could see Ethan’s reaction.
“I have a dick on my face, don’t I?” You asked for the character whose face had just been obscenely graffitied.
Ethan chuckled, no longer looking at the TV screen. He showed you a small smile. “Not yet. But if that’s something you wanted to pursue for tonight…”
You laughed and moved in to give him a quick kiss. You were relieved, taking this victory that you had successfully distracted him. You leaned against him, keeping him in your peripheral vision as your attention mostly drifted back to the rom-com. Judging by the expression on his face, he had found something worth his focus in the movie.
As the characters Michael and Cameron approached Patrick, you smirked to yourself in anticipation of one of the movie’s best one-liners. The three high schoolers discussed the sneaky plan for Cameron to end up with the girl of his dreams.
In his Australian accent, a bemused Patrick asked of the love interest - ‘what is it with this chick, she have beer-flavoured nipples?’
Immediately, you saw Ethan cock his head to one side and you began to giggle.
With his mouth slightly open, he studied the actors inhabiting the scene. “I’m sorry, ridiculously-handsome-man said what now?”
You grinned as you answered. “He asked whether or not Bianca has beer-flavoured nipples.” He shut his eyes, starting to laugh, quietly at first. “I can rewind it to that part if you’d like to hear it again.”
He rested his hand against the side of his face, still laughing. “No, that’s okay, I got it.” He cleared his throat, looking at the TV. “Is it disrespectful to just be thinking about how hot Heath Ledger is?”
“I think it would be more disrespectful to not acknowledge that he’s absolutely beautiful.”
“He’s just… damn… nobody looked that dreamy at my high school, you know?” He said before pausing. “Wait. What did they say while we were talking? Is Heath gonna do the plan, is he gonna try to date Kat?”
“Yep, he’s gonna help them.”
You were thrilled that he was beginning to get invested in the movie. His mind was off of his brother as he cared what happened next in the romantic comedy.
He laughed and talked more, becoming an active participant in the viewing. It felt the same as your other movie nights and you could relax with him.
‘I’m back in the game!’ Cameron happily said to himself after securing his first kiss with Bianca, and, in your peripheral vision, you saw Ethan nod his approval of this development.
The two of you remained cuddled up close, with your hand sliding in underneath his T-shirt as you continued watching the movie. Absent-mindedly, you caressed his stomach, just enjoying the warmth of his skin.
“Oh, is it happening? Are we about to get the grand gesture?” He asked dramatically. “Get ready to mark it off the rom-com bingo card.”
‘You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you…’ Heath Ledger’s character sang over the school’s announcement speaker system.
“Is he singing?” Ethan asked, keenly leaning forward. “Oh my God, he’s singing to her in front of the whole fuckin’ school. This is the best grand gesture I’ve ever seen.”
You smiled, watching your boyfriend as opposed to giving your attention to the TV. This ranked high in your favourite scenes of the entire movie. But right now you were getting more enjoyment from his reactions to it, watching each unspoken emotion play across his face as he experienced this scene for the first time.
‘I love you baby, and if it’s quite alright…’ Patrick sang, much to the delight of Ethan, who wasn’t tearing his eyes off of the screen.
“Listen Kat darling, this is the part where you forgive him.” He said to the heroine. “This is where you forgive him, go to the stupid prom with him and the rest of it.”
“How could she not?” You asked.
“If she doesn’t, then I will.”
You laughed and nuzzled into the side of his neck. “You’re so cute.”
Once the singing was through, he looked at you, beginning to run his fingers through your hair. “Do you know who deserves a grand gesture? You do.”
“Me, what are you talking about, what for?” You asked.
He swept his arm beneath your thighs, lifting your legs so that he could lie them across his lap. “How about for just being you? Because that’s pretty spectacular in and of itself, amore.” A blush rose up in your cheeks as he kept talking. “You always find a way to make me laugh, it’s actually kinda magical. And you’re so consistent, you’re always there for me without being imposing or pushy. I love how kind and supportive you are.
“You can calm me down with just a touch and I don’t think you’ll ever know how much I appreciate that, and kinda depend on it.” He said.
You smiled. “I don’t need a whole song and dance kind of grand gesture, you’ve just given me everything that I need by saying all of that. That’s the perfect grand gesture, right there.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.” You said, leaning in closer so that you could place a lingering kiss upon his mouth.
You stayed this close to him, resting your head in the curve of his neck as you moved your attention back to the movie. Your bodies fit so perfectly together, your arms going to what had long-ago been discovered as the most comfortable spots. Your hand went in under his shirt again, but this time your touch was less of a careless, soft stroking. Now you were exploring with intention, as you licked the taste of him off of your lips. In return, his hand rested on your thigh.
The all-important prom scene arrived, which he watched, silently eager to find out what happened to each of the couples. He watched as even the sidekicks got closer to their own happy endings.
“Interesting.” He remarked when Michael was revealed to be the one wooing Mandella under a Shakespeare-inspired persona.
“What, you’re surprised the geek’s got game?” You asked.
“No, it’s just interesting that he’s masquerading as Shakespeare, given that popular theory that Shakespeare was a fraud.” He said, your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “After he died, this theory came about that he was just some broke, dumb actor and everything was written by someone else. People wrote books about it, there’s even a movie about it. But who knows how true any of that is? I mean, I think it’s all born from gossip.”
The movie reached its dramatic climax during the prom and he was enthralled. He watched as Patrick and Kat fell apart, keeping quiet for the emotional beats that followed.
His thumb caressed at the small of your back as the last portion of the movie played out. Both of you were silent as things began to wrap up, the conclusion taking you to a satisfying resolution for the lead characters. Things wrapped up with an epic kiss between Kat and Patrick.
And Ethan voiced his approval of this. “Okay, good. Obviously they were going to end up together, but I just wasn’t sure how they would do it.”
You picked up the remote, turning the television off. “So you liked it?”
“Yeah, it was great. I think that’s my favourite of all the classic teen movies you’ve shown me so far. I get that Mean Girls is the most iconic thing to ever happen and yada yada. But that one was better, in my opinion.” He said. “Do you wanna know what I liked more than the movie though?”
You smiled, expecting for him to say the words Heath Ledger. “Uh-huh.”
His arms tightened around you. “This cuddle.”
You moved your hands up, cradling his face as you began to kiss. Your lips moved slowly against his as you savoured this new level of intimacy. His hands were no longer just holding you, they grasped your body in a way that had you feeling butterflies in your belly.
His tongue glided into your mouth, massaging. You responded by arching your back and getting your chest flush to his. You reached some of your fingers up, curling strands of his hair around them.
Feeling that you weren’t quite close enough, you lifted yourself up and moved into his lap. You straddled him and he wrapped his arms around you.
“I want you.” He murmured and you felt the rush of excitement that this statement could provide, the atmosphere of the night appropriately changing because of it. You worked your hips forward and let the next kiss end with a gentle suck on his top lip.
“I wanna show you how much I appreciate you taking care of me tonight.” He said. “You made me feel better and now I…” He kissed your cheek while one of his hands moved down, grabbing your butt. “Oh amore, I wanna make you feel good.”
You grinned and decided that the best course for responding was to indulge in more kisses with him. As he kissed you back, he slid his hands beneath your shirt and held you closer to him. His hands moved across your bare skin.
It was effortless how he swung you around, moving you with him as he twisted his body. The kiss was broken when he laid you down on the sofa, flat on your back. You bit into your lip, your heart racing as you looked up at him.
“Is the couch okay or did you wanna move…?” He asked.
“I’m comfortable right here.” You said.
He got to his feet. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
As he left to get a condom, you removed your shirt and leggings, waiting for him in only your underwear.
This brought a smile to his face when he returned, the wrapped-up condom in hand. “Shit, I’ve got some catching up to do.”
“Damn right you do, sweetie.”
Before rejoining you on the sofa, he undressed and you hungrily watched as more flesh was revealed. He was endlessly appealing to you and you licked your lips at the sight before you.
He discarded all of his clothing and sat down by your feet, starting to tear open the condom’s packaging. You sat up and put your hand over his, taking it from him.
You pulled the condom out, but distracted him by peppering his neck with kisses. He sighed happily, relaxing back into the couch. You took in his scent as you let your lips linger on his throat.
Slowly, you moved your hand down the expanse of his chest, your fingers feeling the defined ridges and taut skin. You opened your eyes, watching your progress as you brushed your fingertips down his stomach. You could feel a keen heat building between your thighs as you got closer to his crotch.
You heard his quick inhale as you gently took his dick in your hand, wrapping your fingers around the hardened shaft. You continued to kiss and lavish attention upon his neck as you began to work his cock.
You relished every little reaction that you got from him - from the way his breathing changed, to how he shifted in his seat as his arousal clearly increased.
“Cara…” He quietly said as you started to move the latex down his cock.
“I love making you feel good.” You said.
“Yes, but…” He sat forward, eyes fluttering open as he turned to you. “It’s your turn to feel good.”
You giggled and let him guide you onto your back again. He climbed on top of you, hovering over you.
An excited rush of emotions to your head made you grin as he leaned in closer, beginning to kiss you. You linked your arms around his neck as he tugged your underwear down.
“I’m back in the game.” You quoted as he got the panties down around your ankles. From here, you could kick them away. As his hand caressed the side of your face, you grew serious again. “Is this how you want me?”
“Yes amore, I wanna see your beautiful face.” He said.
You melted into the next kiss. HIs body lowered to yours with one of his arms wrapping around your middle. His other hand moved down, guiding the head of his dick towards your slicked entrance.
Against his mouth, you whined at the feeling of him spreading you open. He pushed in, slowly filling you up, with your inner-walls eagerly fluttering around his length.
His chest met yours, along with his hips resting against your own and the rest of the world faded away as you were smothered in the pleasure that only he could give to you. You wrapped your arms around him, obsessed with this embrace. One passionate kiss followed the next as all distance between your bodies disappeared.
At a tender speed, he started to move against you, his head massaging your walls. You couldn’t hold still, reveling in the building of this friction. You rolled your hips against his.
His whimper was muffled by your lips as he drove into you harder. You kept up with him, dazzled by the synergy as your bodies communicated in their own language. Your tongue glided between his lips, exploring the warmth of his mouth on a new level.
There was a sharp increase of intensity when he reached one hand between your bodies, the tips of his fingers finding your clit. Your heart skipped some beats and your pussy eagerly clenched onto him. His other hand went to your hip, gently guiding you to continue thrusting with him.
Your giddy enthusiasm had become a deep need as you kept swinging your hips up. The pleasure radiated out, warming your entire body.
Using his middle finger, he rolled the hood of your clit up, and then down, mostly in time with how he bucked into you. All of this led you to seeing sparkles behind your eyelids and you knew that magnificent edge was getting closer to you.
“Oh, Ethan…” You gasped as uncontrollable shakes started to rattle your body.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”
You squirmed through the tension that consumed you, going faster just as he did. Your eyes met and you could see the primal fire burning in his gaze as he watched you.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
The next noise from you was a desperate whimper as you felt yourself getting closer to entirely dissolving into the pleasure. You were surrendering all control of your body, your hips overzealously stuttering into his. You grabbed onto his biceps and pushed your forehead against his. The connection was stronger than anything else inside of you.
Your eyes squeezed shut as you received his next few pumps, feeling the pleasure wrapping around the deepest parts of you. He didn’t need any words of encouragement from you, he knew that he was doing exactly what you needed.
It only took a few more determined strokes from him to have you crying out as the climax dawned on you. You convulsed and flinched, your pleasure further drawn out by his finger swirling around your sensitive clit.
In response to this continued stimulation, your walls spasmed and clenched. This took him up to his own edge, with you squeezing him just right.
He put both hands to your face, bringing you in for more kisses as he plunged his cock in deeper. You shared breathless kisses as he worked himself at an inconsistent rhythm.
Until he swung forward and promptly fell apart, securing his release.
As he stilled, you immediately wrapped your arms around him. You held him securely as he gave you some more kisses. Then he rested his head down next to yours as you each basked in your afterglow.
He slowly recovered, lifting his head and you looked at him. You smiled as he began to stroke your hair off of your brow. He pulled out of you but you kept your arms comfortably around his body.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
He returned your smile. “Hi. How do you feel?”
“Damn good.” You said, making him chuckle.
“I’m gonna get us some water.”
He left you on the sofa and you sat up. For the second time that night, you picked up the blanket, but this time you wrapped it around your entire body.
He returned with the two glasses of water. Straight away, he put an arm around your shoulders and you savoured the continued closeness.
“I’m glad that you’re feeling better.” You said, stroking his cheek.
“Sorry about that grumpiness earlier.”
You moved your hand to his knee. “There’s nothing you have to apologise for, sweetie. We don’t have to, but did you wanna talk about what happened?”
“He’s just being an insensitive ass.” He said of his brother, repeating his earlier sentiment. But this time, he had more to say and you were there to hear it all.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
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filthforfriends · 1 year
Text
Chapter 11
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Alpha!Damiano x Omega!Fem Reader
it's smutty enjoy!
First Day Back 
9:01 AM Before you left him to finish the assessment, Damiano pushed his giant, black sweatshirt into your hands, insisting you take it. 
“Please wear it,” was all you got via text until later in the evening.
Wear it until I pick you up in the morning like usual. Before and after you shower, especially if you do yoga before bed. Preferably with nothing under it.
Don’t worry about sweating when you sleep. I’ll like that.
So here you were, still horny from the night before, standing outside your house in anticipation. It was freezing, but still better than your dad’s potential reaction if Damiano came to the door. He was always on time. Just when you began to worry, you saw the headlights of his tan Chevy through the morning fog and practically ran into the street to meet him.
His leg bounces anxiously as you get in. The good morning kiss felt like nothing and he didn’t meet your eyes. Now you were both anxious.
“Hey, you.” When Dami turns you capture his face in both hands and press your foreheads together. He stares right back, eyes intense and present, and the tension leaves your body. He knows the chilling fear running through your head, and bumps noses affectionately to reassure you. 
9:21 AM You’d been sitting in the school parking lot with bated breath for several minutes. Dami’s dread was so visceral that you were experiencing it too. 
“If we go now you’ll be lost in the crowd. No one will notice you.” Damiano pulls at the hem of the black hoodie you wear. Confused, you shed your jacket so you can take it off. You’d assumed Dami wanted you to wear it out of territorialism. Instead he pulls off all his own layers, and is briefly shirtless before putting the sweatshirt on. 
The glimpse of his skin makes you momentarily ravenous and it occurs to you that you can’t remember the last time you made out amid this dumpster fire of a situation. Maybe a little bit Sunday morning when you were both emotionally exhausted. Yesterday’s meeting had been brief and plagued by prying eyes at all times. So it would have to be Friday, when you’d made love for the first and only time. 
Dami reaches into his backpack, pulling out a faded blue sweatshirt as a replacement for the black one.
“I’m fine, I won’t be cold.” Damiano rolls his eyes, leans over, opens your backpack, and stuffs it inside. When he sits up his scent gland nearly brushes your face.
“I need to ask you a question and just be completely honest,” you rush before you can lose your nerve. Dami’s curiosity is visibly piqued. 
“Can we have sex? I mean, while you figure everything out or –” Dami taps the center console once, and very aggressively, while nodding in a way that's gonna give him whiplash. He feels around the seat frantically, like he’s trying to find his car keys. He locates them and is about to turn the ignition when you realize the communication error that's been made.
“Not right now, Dami!” He throws the keys on the floor and his hands in the air. Dami retrieves his phone and types in a frenzy.
HOW IS MY BRAIN SUPPOSED TO WORK WHEN YOU SAY THAT!?!?!!!
You can’t help but burst out laughing at the desperation in his expression. He was really ready to abandon all responsibilities at the drop of a hat. You try to ignore the siren’s song convincing you to say fuck it.
DO NOT EXPECT FRONTAL LOBE INVOLVEMENT FROM ME WHEN YOU BRING UP SEX
You could tease him for being a pervy teenage boy who just couldn’t get enough, but the reality was that the intimacy you shared was profound, fierce, and radically organic. He could see that awareness in your eyes. Every second you spent confined in his car the likelihood of making it to first block decreased. 
“We need to go inside, love.” Damiano nods, this little distraction enough to make returning to school manageable. At least long enough to get through the door. You yank on all your layers and stumble out of the car. Dami puts his hood up. That, paired with dark jeans, black shoes, and an avoidance of eye contact reveals how much he doesn’t want to be perceived. 
Being non-verbal as a young alpha or omega wasn’t really hot gossip. Most of us have regularly interacted with a child or adolescent who wasn’t speaking at some point. Star, Lars, and basically the entire team knew already. Those who don’t will at practice tomorrow. The communication barrier and ignorant beta staff members are more the concern. To your understanding, Damiano has gone to school while non-verbal for a day or two before. It’s the prospect of judgment over something he’s powerless to that keeps Dami’s eyes glued to the linoleum.
You take his hand in front of everyone. It's a reminder that you’re proud to be his omega and the opinions of others are irrelevant. Weaving through the crowds, you walk him to the border of the cafeteria. The common area turns into the alpha portion of the school. Even after bidding Damiano goodbye, you stand at the invisible line and watch until his black hood disappears into the throng. 
Only then does it occur to you that he was wearing your smell as a coping mechanism. Damiano had nothing under the sweatshirt because he wanted fabric that had touched your bare skin against his, even if it was impractical. But it was more than that for him. Jay had asked Damiano to find things he associated with calm, so he could create tools instead of shutting the world out. The whole team spoke endlessly about building resilience instead of barriers. His therapist seemed to be the only one that accepted Dami just didn’t have inner peace to access right now.
So whenever the panic from a pointed, scandalized stare climbed up his throat, Dami could trick himself into thinking you were within reach. When socializing became so overwhelming he wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, Dami escaped inside his own head. He thought of you quietly doing homework, sitting cross legged on the end of your bed and imagined that instead of watching from above, he was there too. Maybe doing his own homework, maybe laid back and admiring that you occasionally bite your lip in thought. After a few moments, the overwhelm would pass
1:04 PM You’d been pulled out of study hall by the head of the aerospace engineering competitive team, Mx. Varela. Apparently they needed a member in your year who was a strong mathematician.
“I’m not even on the math team and I don’t know anything about rockets.”
“You have an A in Physics and Advanced Algebra. Let your teammates worry about the rockets.”
“And a B in Engineering.” It was highly debatable that you were the most qualified availability in your grade.
“Advanced Engineering. How many other 10th years are in that class?”
“I don’t know, it was just on my schedule at the beginning of the year.” Truthfully, you had no desire to be one of the academic devotees that spent all of their free time on campus. Leaving school with Damiano was usually your favorite part of the day.
“What’s the real reason?” Mx. Varela stands with a hand on their hip.
“I just don’t like engineering that much,” you shrug. “And I already have a bunch of homework.”
“You’ll receive school credit for Aerospace 101. It’s three hours a week instead of five and you can do one of the weekly meetings during Wednesday’s study hall.”
“So I’d have to stay after school twice a week?” you complain. 
“Two of the weekly meetings during study hall as long as you’re passing English. Final offer.” It was a good bargain. Homework was so mind-numbing that you could rarely focus for more than half of 5th block. Somehow, blaring music at home made everything except English go quickly. 
“Maybe…”
“Good, you start now. Get your stuff.” Mx. Varela had chosen today because many of the school clubs were making posters for upcoming events during study hall. In the common area, brightly hued scrolls of paper covered several tables, around which a mix of students huddled. Only then did it occur to you that Romero’s Aerospace Engineering Team would be integrated. 
When you approached the only barren table, everyone went around introducing themselves. You didn’t catch a single name, trying to read their pheromones. Two omegas that you recognized from your study hall stood on the fringes of the interaction. Mx. Varela thanked them for volunteering to help, even though they obviously just wanted to get out of class. 
“First block ransacked the cafeteria supply closet, so we’ve been using the big one in the South Hall.” Teachers could try to rebrand with new names as much as they liked, but everyone knew that the South Hall was the border.  It was, in fact, a supply room, outside of which mailmen stacked boxes of wholesale markers and pens. It was across from the first alpha class room, just slightly over the line. Situated there because both sides restock their supplies from its inventory. 
It got you thinking, what was the chance that a protective alpha notices adventurous omegas using the supply room at the beginning of the last four classes? What was the chance that they figured out it was study hall? Damiano knew your schedule and you his.
“I’d be happy to go get supplies!” you chirp, raising a hand and bouncing on the balls of your feet.
“Alright,” Mx. Varela agrees slowly, confused by your sudden enthusiasm. “Take Rosemary with you. She knows her way around.” A 12th year beta comes to your side with a forced smile. She doesn’t speak until you’re out of hearing range from the group.
“It's two betas and three alphas,” she blurts. “The team, you’re the only omega.”
“God damn it,” you groan.
“So, um, so you’re with that 11th year right? We have World History together.” Of course, she had a crush. “I wish I could pull girls like he used to. If you know any of his secrets I’d love to hear.” 
“You know, that’s really not where I thought this conversation was going,” you admit.  Rosemary looks mortified.
“Ew, god no!” she cringes. “Not ‘god no’ him personally, but just men in general. There’s this omega in my AP Bio class who’s just…” she audibly sighs. “She used to have a massive crush on Damiano and like, I get that he looks like a statue and all. Sorry, people say I’m off putting.”
“I think you’re fine.” She smiles again, and this time it's genuine. As soon as you turn the corner, you scan your surroundings.
“Dami,” you call. “Damia-nooo.” Rosemary turns to you like you’ve lost your mind. “He’s around here somewhere. He’s always watching.” 
“What? Like a serial killer?” You splutter as Rosemary opens the door.
“Dami, you’re making me look crazy,” you say into thin air. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Yep, he’s close. The scent of his pheromones is so faint it's more like feeling his presence intuitively. You pout, wishing he’d come greet you.
“I can’t reach,” Rosemary grunts, from inside the supply room. Even without Dami, the trip is worth it. There’s something so interesting about seeing the inner-workings of an institution that feels omnipresent the way school does. You look around for something to stand on and get a wicked good idea. 
Cupping your hands over her ear, you whisper, “gasp and then say my name like you’re worried.” She’s confused, but game. Dramatically, Rosemary inhales sharply and you rattle a box of scissors and drop a stapler on the floor.
“Oh my god, y/n!” Damiano rounds the door frame before you can blink. His hands are outstretched as if to catch you, so you throw yourself into his arms. Dami immediately wrenches you backward, eyes searching for an injury or symptom.
“I’m fine,” you beam, and he crushes you in a hug again. “Oof – air. Dami, air!”
“I really thought you were totally conceited, but you were right,” marvels Rosemary. Damiano finally takes notice of his surroundings and awkwardly waves in greeting. He subtly slides one hand under your sweater when he shifts his embrace from a hug into holding you from behind.
 “So this is my stalker, Dami.” He pinches the soft flesh above your hip. “Ow, okay!” you jump. “This is my boyfriend, Dami.” Pinch. “This is my stalker-boyfriend?” you try, teasing him in retribution. He enjoys the way you jump and squeak in reaction a little too much. Damiano pinches you once more as revenge for the mini heart attack.
“Ouch! This is my alpha. Is that what you want me to say?” You bat his hand away, but instead he slides his warm palm over the sensitive skin of your stomach. As Rosemary turns to reach for the paper again, he even dips his pinky below the waistline of your jeans. You hold your breath, pussy throbbing at the proximity of his fingers. His long, capable fingers that easily massaged your scent glands and helped you finally release after getting so pent up. 
“Okay. Damiano, can you grab this please?” Rosemary points to the roll of yellow paper above the cabinets. He lets go and tears off a long sheet.
  “And the red paint?” She points at the corner cabinet while gathering a ruler, glitter, and other supplies. You’d just wanted Damiano to stop playing Mr. Cool, but Rosemary had the smarts to make use of him. After organizing everything to carry back, she looks two of you up and down with a smirk.
“Are we gonna walk back together or…?”
“Yeah, for sure,” you respond, fanning yourself. Just the proximity to Dami raised your body temperature. Rosemary exits first, so you have a couple seconds alone. Instead of being miffed over his teasing, you decide to return it.
“I have a secret to tell you.” Surprisingly, he leans down without question, leveling his ear with your mouth. Again, you cup your hands and whisper.
“After your texts last night, I fingered myself while wearing this sweatshirt. But I actually wanted to ball it up and ride it like that pillow.” You skip away before he can recover and catch you, but he still tries. Damiano’s hands fumble to grasp a wrist or elbow so he can haul you back inside the little room. However, you manage to slip away, carefree while Dami seems to be suffering from tachycardia. You check over your shoulder once more before rounding the corner. He’s slumped against the door, eyes wide in shock. You hold your hair up, as if you’re going to put it in a ponytail. Of course this isn’t the case, bruising considered. However, it gives Damiano a chance to see all his bite marks on your neck. It's a reminder: you belong to him and you know it. 
3:14 PM “Well, you’re home a little early.”  Isabella is waiting in the kitchen as soon as Dami opens the door. It should be 3:17, but he’d dragged you into the parking lot and driven much faster than usual after an hour and a half of desperate texts.
HOW
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GO BACK TO CLASS
Fucking hell I can’t stop thinking about how I got to teach you to do that. 
Just jacked off in the school bathroom like a 12 year old because I needed to actually focus in algebra so thanks for that.
If I sprained my wrist it's your fault.
“Yeah, how’s it going?” you ask out of habit, while taking off your boots.
“Good, good. What was your first day back like, Dam? Your team suggested I report back.” He gives a thumbs up, but tilted a few degrees sideways to indicate decent instead of great. Unsatisfied, Isabella props her forearms on the counter, looking at him expectantly.
“So how was it?” she prompts, leaning forward like he’s gonna choose this moment to resume speaking. Damiano grabs your wrist and tugs towards his bedroom. Maybe he can disappear in silence, but you can’t.
“Dami stood on his desk in the middle of history and recited the Gettysburg Address from start to finish.” 
“He did? No he didn’t,” Isabella scoffs, realizing it's a joke. “You have the most unique comedic timing, y/n.” You thank her, even though it's probably an insult. Shaking her head at your sarcasm occupies Isabella’s focus for a moment. Dami pulls you down the hall, just as he had through the common area before you got the chance to say bye to anyone. 
While he shuts and locks the door you begin shedding the outer layers of your outfit. As soon as the nob clicks you turn around to kiss Damiano and find that he’s not there. He’s crouched down and unfastening your pants with laser focus.
“Oh, okay,” you beamed, aching for him. Belt, button, fly, and Dami places your dominant hand on his shoulder for balance while pulling the fabric down. When it gets stuck on your left ankle he gets frustrated and growls, yanking at it so aggressively he nearly knocks you over. As soon as the jeans are off Dami’s gaze focuses on your groin. Just observing his feral desperation is enough to make your cunt throb.
Damiano looks up to check your expression, then herds you towards the bed by your hips. With the back of your knees against the mattress, you look at him for direction. Losing all composure, he pushes you down, then forces himself to freeze. It appears his impatience has reached agony as Dami wrenches his laptop out of his bag in order to communicate. .
When I squeeze you say yes/no. 
He slides back down your body so he’s kneeling on the floor. Wanting to give him room on the bed, you scoot up. Damiano growls, using a harsh grip under your knees to haul you back down. The excitement shoots up your spine and through your arms. He's being so vocal that it makes the seat of your underwear wet and sticky.
Given the positioning it should have been obvious, but oral was so far from on your mind. You would have trimmed the hedges, so to speak, had you anticipated
“Okay, but I haven’t showered since yesterday and –” Your voice climbs in pitch as he rips your underwear down, and pushes your thighs apart. Damiano doesn’t even bother getting the garment off both legs. Stitches tear as he gets the left side over your foot, but he just brushes the right side out of the way. He presses his face in between your thighs, breathing in your smell so forcefully that it'd be comical in another situation. 
He locates your clit with his thumb first and then attaches his mouth. You squeal at such forceful suction, reflexively trying to get away, but he won’t let you. He drags you so far down the bed it feels like you’re about to fall off and presses his face between your legs again.
“Dami, Dami, it’s, that’s…okay. Okay,” you pant, as he focuses on your hymen. He traces around your opening with the tip of his tongue, moaning for the first time at the taste. It reverberates throughout your entire body. This is what had him so feral. Propped up on your elbows, you can see his absolute focus while inserting his pointer finger. He tries to go slow, thrusting shallowly. You probably thought this was about eating you out and not about wanting to eat you alive. 
Carefully sweeping the pad of his finger back and forth, Damiano finds your scent glands. He pushes down on one side, forcefully massaging. You feel embarrassed because the motion is causing you to release an excessive amount of slick, more than was productive for sex. Not wanting Damiano to be put off, you try to back away. His snarl startles you. His top lip is almost curling, like a wolf guarding its food. Using both hands, he grabs your thighs and pulls you back down. You stay completely still, wishing Dami was verbal enough to communicate the goal. 
He laps up the slick carefully, and you remind yourself to trust him. Using more force than in the past, he pushes the tip of his tongue inside you. It's a new sensation, nothing like getting fingered. Dami can articulate that appendage as he can nothing else: hot, wet, and oh so soft. Dami’s powerful moan vibrates through your abdomen at the taste of your cunt. He makes crude, slurping noises, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder. 
“I ta – taste different?” He nods between your legs, finally raising his eyes. He’s gone into headspace, and you can feel his sharp canines pressed just outside your vulva. The proximity of what had easily pierced your skin a few days ago, right against your most delicate place, creates the strongest fear response to date. He’d never hurt you, at least not on purpose, but an accident was inevitable at some point. 
“Careful. Be careful,” you urged. You’d only had this done to you a few times, and never to completion. There’s the concern about how long it might take you. Not to mention, high schooler boys rarely had adequate technique. Dami may be experienced and educated enough, but you were far too nervous to reach orgasam right now. One little nic would make everything painful for days. “Damiano,” you tug at his hair, trying to catch his attention and warn him. Assuming that pulling up meant you wanted his mouth to move up, Dami parted your inner folds. He used his tongue with a little help with his pointer finger, and fuck did it feel amazing. Dami paid careful attention to the center of your vulva, a place you ignored for lack of efficacy. Efficacy wasn’t the point, it was enjoyment. Selfishly, Damiano was prioritizing his own in tasting your slick. 
Not only was your vulva filled with nerve endings, but receiving touch for the first time yielded the area highly sensitive. The way you squirmed and omitted high pitched noises both triggered Dami’s prey drive and his urge to protect. Every time you pulled away, but allowed yourself to be brought closer again, he wanted to savor the soft tissue of your inner thigh, feel how it gave way in his mouth. It was unfair for flesh to be so pillowy and biteable when he had to keep his teeth to himself.  
When Damiano shifted his focus to the right of your cunt, you breathed a sigh. However, he began forcefully working a hickey into the widest part of your leg. With someone else this wouldn’t be indicative of anything, but Dami used hickies to supplement his urge to bite. As soon as he sucked the tender skin into his mouth, he pulled it between his teeth. Tugging, tugging, forcing himself to release while tightening his grip on your flank. An alarm was sounding in his head, Damiano reminding himself that he couldn’t just bite you when he wanted to convey affection. He sure as shit couldn’t remember why though.
Dami dropped his head in an effort to think, only for his downward gaze to fall on a wet spot on his sheets. Your slick had dripped from your pussy and onto the bed while he was preoccupied. Like liquid gold, and he’d wasted it. Thank god this was a product of marking, because if your cunt smelled this delicious to other alphas, Damiano would have to commit a war crime. And he would too. 
The only thing that could compete with this heady elixir was the knowledge that it was made by your body for him, only. Every drop of slick belonged to him. Which meant your cunt belonged to him too, and then also your scent glands. Your neck belonged to him and so did every moan he elicited too. Every noise of pleasure, including masturbation if you were thinking of him and why the fuck couldn’t he bite you again? 
Damiano was obviously mulling something over in his head, bearing his teeth while he did so. If you didn’t want him to break the skin, you could just ask and he’d respect that. But you can’t say the words, because it's not the real truth. You were afraid it’d hurt or bleed, without the invincible feeling of craving a mark. However, that was entirely different from an exclusive interest in gentle touches. The animal side of Damiano both captured and compelled you, while also scaring you shitless.
His brow furrows in thought, and Dami accidentally bumps your clit with his nose. You squeak in surprise and the next minute he’s forcing his tongue as far inside as possible while growling. At first the bridge of his nose is pressed to the top of your pussy, brushing against your clitorous. You finally engage, one arm propping you up and your free hand guiding Damiano until his face was situated in a way that made your mouth fall open.
“Mhm, like that,” you pant. Thinking he was helping, Dami pressed his face more firmly against your pussy while swapping his tongue out for two fingers. It goes from pleasurable to forceful to painful.
“Too much, Dami!” He looks up to check on you, while his fingers find your untouched scent gland. His gaze turns from concerned to ravenous as he watches you fall apart. 
“Ah!” you cry out, arm buckling and leaving you to collapse on the bed awkwardly. Dami’s gaze devours the way your breasts jiggle and nipples harden. You try to adjust, but he’s is so fucking insistent massaging your scent gland. The release makes you feel even again, balanced. Dami hauls your other leg onto his shoulder and outright drinks the slick from your body. 
He’s too deep in headspace to feel shame or self-consciousness. Dami tries to create a seal with his lips around your entrance. He growls, and suckles, and growls some more. It’s a totally novel sound, all desperation and no heat. You try to comfort him with a weak, shaking hand in his hair. This soon fails when he switches to licking you clean, because now you’re his pup again. Pups can’t speak, but you can still feel his canines against your skin as he kisses your cunt. This combination makes your nerves peak and chest tighten. Suddenly this is more intimidating than it is pleasurable. 
You tap the bedding twice in short succession. By the third repetition Dami recognizes the signal and is crouched over you. His eyes rake up and down your body for the source of the issue, but all you need is to feel safe for a few moments so your nervous system can calm down. You try to communicate that you’re in head space with your eyes and somehow he picks up on it immediately. 
Damiano reaches up to move the covers back and is so patient with your hindered movements. He pulls you a few feet onto the bed and helps you get your legs back from jelly to functional. Dami crouches, guarding as you slowly crawl under the covers. He slides in behind, helping you the rest of the way and throws the blankets over top.
The embrace starts as spooning, but naturally you gravitate towards laying on your stomach. He adjusts, one arm always snug around your waist. His free hand sweeps the hair from your face, making sure you can still breath. He rests that forearm just above your head and the sensation of being boxed in by Dami is immediately soothing. The weight of the covers, presence of his body, and comfort of the position result in a heavy sigh of contentment. Yes, this is exactly what you needed and Damiano knew that.
Dami is affectionate and reassuring in canine dialect, his hums and rumbles both felt and heard. The sensation that you’ve been plunged into headspace without warning subsides, even as everything remains fuzzy. Dami knows your predisposition to panicking when your biology takes control and is trying to keep you in this calm mentality. Marking is only going to make things more intense and now he’s wishing you’d taken that step after making love a few times first. You’re dealing with so many unknowns and exercising an incredible amount of faith right out the gate.
At first you enjoy the sensation of being in headspace with so much physical and emotional intimacy. Then you convince yourself to enjoy it. Then you attempt to ignore the claustrophobia because, if anything, you’ve sunk deeper rather than gotten closer to the surface. At this point Dami can feel you tensing and you try to break out of headspace with brute force. You make your heavy eyelids stay open, screaming at your body to move, trying to form speech. The inability to create a cognizant thought causes your chest to tighten in panic.
Damiano scents you but it's a careful balancing act between calming and making the dissociation worse. It has the unintended effect of bringing all attention to your engorged cunt. Expelling slick was a far cry from orgasam. All that stimulation, though not for your benefit, had worked you up dramatically and suddenly you’re very bothered by Dami’s state of dress.
Your free hand crawls up to Damiano’s arm and tugs at his sleeve. You whine to indicate that you want something and he puts the two together quickly. Damiano sheds his clothes while keeping as close as possible. His hard cock is pressed to your tailbone and careful hands work your sweater and bra off. As soon as Damiano takes you in his arms the skin and skin contact grounds you.
His embrace is gentle enough that you can scoot up until his cock is level with the crease of your glute. Damiano assumes you're getting comfortable up until his dick is suddenly between your thighs, against your pussy. He makes a sound like he’s just been punched and tenses so hard it knocks the wind out of you.
“Air, air!” you wheeze, pulling at his muscular forearms, flexed to display his veins. Dami relaxes only to jolt again when you undulate your hips, working his cock against your vulva and inner thighs wetted with slick. Leaning forward allows the end of his shaft to bump your clit. It feels best when his cock pulses as it becomes painfully hard. Trying to keep the stimulation close, you rub your thighs together and that leaves you moaning into the bed. How were you ever supposed to use a dildo when you’d felt Dami’s racing heart throbbing against your pussy as he whimpered behind you? 
All the arousal was making him sweat which meant you got to smell his body odor too. Trying to bring your alpha closer somehow, you reach between your legs and part your labia. He follows your hand and ceases breathing while trying to figure out what you were doing. When he feels the next rush of slick drip directly onto his cock, Dami’s primal brain takes over. Against his will, Damiano’s hips stuttered forward at a crazed pace for a few seconds. He holds you tighter through it, trying to weather the instinctual response. 
 Since it’s so obvious that you want, nay need, the same thing, you take initiative, arching your hips back. Shifting your pelvis lines Damiano’s cock up with your entrance. Everything is already so well lubed that his tip begins slipping past the ring of your hymen. However, the head of Dami’s cock is flared and you can’t get enough traction to push him inside. You try bracing your hands against the bedsheet and pushing back, but it doesn’t work without Damiano’s lower body engaged as well as his upper.
Rather than endure the sexual frustration you attempt to ask nicely with a whimper and nuzzling against his bicep. Dami’s pheromones shift and he momentarily loses his self restraint by forcefully nibbling behind your ear. His face is tucked against your neck, so you have to abandon the stimulation and flip over to address him. Chest to chest, you fling one leg over his hip and bring his throbbing cock against your cunt again. His free hand shoots over to your thigh, but trembles mid-air. The only thing that makes contact are barely there brushes of his fingertips. Whatever this thing was, some blinding hunger that he was holding at bay, you had to know it. 
Rather than asking a question with words: can we make love? You make a request with your expression and energy. When your eyes finally do meet, his charcoal black, you try to convey how deeply into sexual submission you’re willing to fall. Let's make love. Damiano sees the request for what it is: an expression of necessity. I need you to take my autonomy away so that I can be reenergized. 
He finally allows his hand to mold the supple tissue of your thigh and uses the hold to roll the both of you onto your back. Dami sits up, moving away from instead of into you. A sound of dissent threatens to surface when Damiano throws your thighs over his. His legs are splayed out to the side and yours extended behind him. It’s an odd sex position, but Dami isn’t using it for love making. His gaze falls to your exposed pussy, running a finger from clitoral hood to vaginal opening. 
Dami inserts one finger, then two. The pace is slower than anything else has been today and the urge to protest in canine dialect wins. You whine, which drops Damiano’s peaceful smile and does nothing else. Despite how testy he’d been earlier, you squirm away and Dami huffs in frustration. 
“No!” he barks. His voice was scratchy and guttural from lack of use. Hearing him speak surprises you so much that you freeze. That single syllable was probably accidental. Still, you’re fighting emotions that aren’t conducive to orgasam.
Let me admire you.
He types with his left hand while his right never leaves your body. Dami’s fingers drag your slick back up your pussy then strokes down either side. He does the motion again, grinning as your entrance tenses from the teasing. Damiano uses his index and middle finger to trace between your inner and outer labia. You can feel his hip bones digging into your thighs as your entire body squeezes down. When your brain registers that there’s nothing for you to squeeze down on you become blatantly needy.
“Inside me now,” you punctuate with two painfully high pitched whines. Last night you’d felt too intimidated by the intensity of your first time to have penetrative sex so soon. Now you were begging. 
In Damiano’s face is an awareness of how much marking had demanded of you. At times, you’d been overwhelmed to the point of distress. Today he’d just wanted orgasam for the both of you, satisfied with however that was reached. Since Friday night, his brain had been supplying him with endless possibilities: a Plan A and if that was too much, a Plan B, and if that was still overwhelming a Plan C. For each variable he’d come up with alternatives and corresponding aftercare. All these fantasies had sustained him.
Some were simple: like eating you out until the over-sensitivity had you begging for a break. Others banked on your love of friction: thigh riding, allowing you to grind against the fly of Dami’s jeans while seated on his lap. A personal favorite was having you straddle his supine body and rubbing your clit up and down his shaft. This would be a great first step in teaching you how to make yourself cum while riding his cock. Or perhaps you’d already figured this out and wouldn't that be a glorious visual. Cheeks flushed, mouth parted while panting, fighting to keep your eyelids open, and letting out those primal, little grunts you never seemed to be aware you were making.
By the end of today he’d come up with seven different positions he'd like to finger you in. Some allowed kissing, others allowed him to admire your body and how it reacted in order to catalog every microscopic response. Upon remembering you were wearing tight jeans, Damiano had even brainstormed acts that didn’t require you to take your clothes off. He’d prepared himself well, all to counteract how badly he wanted to fuck you on the bedroom floor until your squealed and kicked and cried and scratched and bit and demanded more even though you were sore. 
Now, here you were beneath him. Trying to school your face into something irresistible as if you hadn’t been irresistible since skipping into the street to meet him this morning. Your eagerness to greet Dami had been completely untainted by all of the bullshit. Then you launched your entire being into a kiss of unmitigated joy and his brain had short circuited. And now he was supposed to cope with you pleading for his cock. It was a fucking impossible task for any mortal being, especially one enslaved to whatever golden elixir lay between your legs.
Much to your delight, Damiano had surged forward into missionary position so quickly that you couldn’t even keep track of his limbs. In an impassioned dichotomy, Damiano’s right hand rubbed the head of his dick against your pussy while his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.
“Except, this time no knot. I’m sorry, I just –” Dami pulls back so you can see his expression, eyebrows furrowed in empathy. “Right, you understand.” Speech is possible, but it feels unnatural. Damiano rests some of his weight on you in order to free a hand.
But I don’t need to understand your boundaries to respect them. 
At a loss for words, you nod in return, goosebumps raising on your arms. It was a radical thing for an alpha to say to his omega. If Dami would give you the tiniest bit of momentum forward, you wouldn’t have to be separate. Searching for the right word or expression makes you desperate enough that your bottom lip trembles. Instead, you wrap both legs around Dami and pull him closer, nails digging into his shoulder blades. The burning desire for your alpha has your cunt engorged with blood and throbbing just like his cock.
Dami heeds your request and the diameter stretch of his shaft is more challenging than last time. Immediately, your chest tightens with anxiety. What if you can’t take it? What if he doesn’t fit and you can’t have sex? Only then does it occur to you that this might have been quite painful last time, but you hadn’t noticed because your brain was flooded with endorphins in anticipation of a mark. 
Less than half of the way in, Dami stops because you’re too tense for this to be comfortable on either side. He can see you thinking that it’s the end of the world and not a natural part of the process. It’s the second time ever that you’ve taken an alpha cock. He settles the weight of his pelvis and prompts you to look up at him. Dami’s face is relaxed, unbothered, without a hint of impatience. The fact that he expected this reaction from you puts everything in perspective and you take a deep breath.
During the exhale, he pushes deeper inside. You sink into the mattress rather than flexing every muscle in fear of failure. All that tensing seems to be the main issue because Dami grunts at the amount he’s able to penetrate. A hand moves to stroke your hair and your brain is a little cloudy. Only then do you make the connection from the compulsion for deep breaths and Damiano’s pheromones shifting to reassure you.
“Hm…mhm,” you sigh, head heavy against the pillow. He thrusts forward, but has to pause again. The anger at your body for this betrayal is red hot, and twists your face into resentment. Relax, relax, just fucking relax! Why won’t your body let you make love to the alpha you trust so deeply? The exasperation brought tears to your eyes, and that felt like just another betrayal. 
“I want it to work! I want you! I don’t understand.” The emotional anguish manifested as tension that actually pushed Dami out. You panicked, trying to bring him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist, but that just hurt. He kisses your forehead and pulls out. Your body is failing at its very purpose. Your stomach sinks as if its it's being closed in a fist at Damiano just outright giving up so easily. How long can you keep an alpha without penetrative sex? How long could you keep your sanity without Damiano making love to you?
Damiano’s anxiety about future expectations couldn’t compete with the instinct to protect. You had absolutely no sense of perspective and were looking at him like he’d abandoned you. All Dami wanted was to put a pillow under your hips to make things more comfortable. 
“Hips up,” he coaches. For a moment the sound of his voice renders you frozen. Damiano repeats himself, drawing out each syllable, and your brain finally processes the command.
“Is this because you’re an alpha?”
“This is because it feels good.”
He lays down to eliminate space between your bodies and places his lips against the shell of your ear.
“I know you feel like you can take it all at once, but hormone suppressants limit the production of oxytocin and relaxin. Your pelvis isn’t as elastic, but you still have to be nice to your body. It’s doing its best and I’m not in any rush.” Even in whispers, the timbre of Damiano’s voice is warm and soothing. He can taste the tears while kissing your profile, feel the sob rattling your chest.
“I missed-ed the s-sound of you–your voice.” You take a couple gasping breaths and try to control the tears.
“I can feel that. I can feel you.” The meaning of that second sentence doesn’t click until the next exhale, when Dami thrusts forward until he bumps your cervix, all the way behind your belly button. The sensation is so deep so immediately that it startles you. Dami is propped up on his arms again, watching your expression. There’s surprise, but no pain. He wishes you would stop crying. However, if the situation were reversed, and he hadn’t heard your voice in nearly a week, he’d be wiping snot away between ugly sobs.
Even though he’s stationary and waiting for you to acclimate, Dami’s chest is heaving like he just finished practice. He closes his eyes and scowls while trying to take deep breaths that just get caught in his throat. You’ve never seen his self control so thin.
“My love, what’s happening?” Damiano shakes his head and sets his jaw. “I know what it looks like when you’re holding –” He growls and shifts, right hand getting a bruising hold on your thigh. The flesh puckers up between his fingers while he pulls back and drives into you. Instead of the normal conscientious movement, Damiano thrusts deeper than you’ve ever been penetrated. There's no braking for safety or sanity’s sake and he bottoms out uncomfortably. This makes you yelp, but Damiano doesn’t stop thrusting; he just shortens the strokes and holds even tighter. His face relaxes while plunging his cock into your cunt at a jack rabbit pace, even with the sound of skin roughly colliding with skin.   
“Dami,” you whisper. His eyes fly open and he freezes, body so full of kinetic energy that he’s nearly quivering. Using both hands on his back, you pull your alphas body downwards. As soon as that skin to skin contact is reestablished he’s gyrating back and forth. Dami’s lips are curled to reveal his teeth as he snarls and tries to control the feral, sexual kinetic energy. He’s being so passionate and god damn forceful that his pubic bone nudges your clit.
“Do that again!” you mewl. Dami grinds against you from slightly varying angles, but can’t elicit the right sensation. 
“Scoot down,” he grunts, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Every time he speaks, it echoes through your ribcage like a hymn. Laying directly under Dami combined with the elevation from the pillow evokes that pleheavenly sensation you’d sought a moment ago, clit against his happy trail. Your alpha resumes plowing into you over and over, until it pushes you up the mattress. Every vein and tendon in Dami’s neck is visible and his face is flushed bright red. Hot puffs of air hit your cheek as he fights for adequate oxygen. He might as well be sprinting, but the need for relief obviously outweighs exhaustion.
Damiano is visibly working through something so you relax against the bed and enjoy the view. His hands, slick with sweat, try to create a grip on the slats of his headboard so he can build momentum. As if repeatedly driving you into the mattress wasn’t already audible. Every muscle is flexed, from his forearms to his pecs. Tiny beads of sweat collect just below his hairline in a pattern. He hasn’t bothered to put his hair up, and tangled locks tickle your nipples.
Dami’s right hand slips and you hear fabric rip right next to your ear. The appendage at fault, unfurled in a claw shape, tries to find purchase on the edge of the mattress and ends up tearing the fitted sheet. It’s a reminder of how much raw power Dami contains. He cries out in frustration as the other hand falls. When Dami’s chest collides with yours, it also brings your pelvises closer. What had started as a nice little bit of stimulation becomes delicious. He gasps for air while readjusting, mumbling something you don’t understand. On the next instroke you’re moaning against his shoulder.
“Talk to me! Anything, grocery list, doesn’t matter.” The inappropriateness of the outburst only hits you after the words are said. You can’t just demand someone who hasn’t spoken for five days to do so for the sake of your orgasam. 
“Ho un debole,” he gasps, “per te! Ti amo con tutto il cu – cuore!” His thrusts become shallow: cock fully seated, out a couple inches, and back inside you. You almost complain about the loss of your stimulation when Dami growls and both hands become fists. He freezes, collapses, gets his forearms back under him, and fights for air with a necessity that's uncomfortable to observe. Then he tries to resume full strokes, collapses again, and convulses. It's such a visceral reaction that your alpha is squirming not to lose physical closeness while whining into the bed.
“Y/n, y/n,” he whimpers. You soothe him through whatever this moment of intensity is. Then give Damiano a minute to recuperate before continuing, just enjoying the sensation of his cock, the way it was warm, filling, and reassuring. After a couple seconds, Damiano  props his chin up and looks at you. His expression is novel. Damiano averts his eyes and smiles with only the right side of his mouth. It’s not a real smile though, he’s bashful.
“What?” you jostle him.
“I, I…” he sighs and meets your gaze. “Finished. I – this is so fucking embaressing. I’m really sorry.” He covers his face with one hand then hides his expression against your breast instead. “It’s just I was so focused on holding back a knot that I –”
“You were in pain,” you exclaim, horrified. How could you not consider Damiano obvious discomfort when he did knot you? Holding back must have been excruciating. You could have worn a condom to make things easier, but even the thought of putting barriers between you was offensive.
“No! Well…yeah, but mostly I just couldn’t do both. Plus, you’re so,” he trails off and sighs, still panting. “I don’t know what it is, but I’d probably drink your bath water at this point.”
“Ew, Dami!” 
“What? It’s not my fault you became an addictive substance post marking!”
“Uh TMI, but I’m probably ovulating. Maybe that’s affecting you now that I’m claimed?” Dami’s cock twitches inside you, but at the same time he lets out a forlorn groan. “What is it!?”
“You’re telling me I’m gonna have to survive this every month?” He drops his head against your neck in defeat, where Dami is suddenly very distracted by your scent gland.
“It’s only one day a month and we –” You swallow hard to muster up some courage. “We can make love every time and I can even skip showering afterwards.”
“If you don’t shower I’m gonna have a brain aneurysm,” he quips, darkly. “Sweat, slick, all those fucking pheramones, plus my smell all over you…
“Yeah?” You undulate your hips against his, coaxing Dami to resume thrusting. He catches on, mouth falling open from the sensation.
“I, I mean you — I wouldn’t let you leave my house. I’d just keep you in my den and drink your slick and…” He trails off, crawling his forearms forward to bring his hips a couple inches above yours. By thrusting shallowly, you get to rub your clit against the base of his cock. Its a fuck of a lot more effective that brushing his skin an inch up and getting tickled by body hair. A desperate cry leaves your mouth before you can calibrate the noise into something pretty, or at least quieter.
“Legs up,” he pants. Discovering the pleasure in forcefully rubbing against Damiano is intuitive. Getting the rhythm is a bit of trial and error, but when he rests his pelvis the pressure on your clit makes you see stars. Dami’s groin is so close to yours that you can barely see his mauve shaft, shining with slick, plunging in and out of your body. His member is progressively getting darker as more blood flows to the area. It’s then that you finally realize, without knowing it, you’ve taken every inch of his alpha cock. Just to experience Dami’s appendage in its full glory, you use your heels to bring his groin against yours with targeted force. Simultaneously, you buck off the pillow and Dami thrusts so deeply that his pubic bone is flush against yours.
You whine in canine dialect, an uninhibited expression of feral satiation. By some heavenly instinct, Dami grinds up and down against your vulva, stimulating your g-spot in the process. You rake your nails down his back and wonder why the fuck you’d never tried this before. The stimulation was so powerful you could feel your eyes sting as they watered. Your feet are kicking the air just trying to externalize some of it.
Finally checking on Damiano, and he has a look of tortured concentration. You speak with the intent of bringing him, wherever he is, into this wonderful moment with you.
“Love, I can take all of you. Can you feel it? Are you proud of me?” He whimpers and nods, which is much less of a response than you were expecting. Reading the expressions Damiano makes during sex would have to be a skill you eventually hone. For example, he looks unhappy, but his body is full of enthusiasm, from his committed thrusts to his pulsing cock to his noises of pleasure.
“This feels so fucking incredible that I –” a couple tears run down your cheeks from the intensity of sensation. You bring a hand to Dami’s hair and watch his face begin to relax before he does the worst thing possible. Damiano’s eyes fly open in panic and he tries to pull out. You lock your legs around him, one hand cupping his neck and the other digging your nails into his back. It’s like being woken by having freezing water dumped on your face.
“NO! No, no, stop.” He shakes his head and tries to wrench backward. Even before your conscious mind realized how much it didn’t want this moment to end, your animal brain clamped down with every ounce of strength.
“Let go so I don’t hurt you!” he growls.
“Stop! Why?”
“Knot. Can’t stop it. Can’t!”
“Yes! Yes, I want it!”
“Y/n,” he warns, pulling back with considerably less vigor. His face is twisted in pain, teeth clenched. The vein in the center of his forehead is visible as he strains.
“I changed my mind! I want it. Love, come here, I want it.” Damiano completely collapses and exhales hard.
“I can’t stop it. Can’t,” he whimpers, shuddering. “I can’t, I can’t.” He sounds so upset at this tiny niche where he doesn’t have self-control. 
“Love, will you please knot me? Can I have your knot? I want it so bad,” you whisper into his ear. “Please make love to me with your knot.” You can’t imagine a version of yourself that wouldn’t want to be connected this way, at any cost. All that anxiety melted away, so forgotten that you didn’t even recall making this request until the moment of. Dami nods against your neck, accepting this.
“Show me your face.” You try to pull his head upwards. All Dami can manage is resting his forehead against yours, trying not to slip in the sweat. The release of all this pressure is euphoric for him, but forming the knot is still uncomfortable. He’s freezing up and hunkering down, hands in fists, upper body tensed.
“Move with me a little,” you coo, just rocking your hips. Damiano does so and it helps him process the overwhelming sensation. You can feel the knot forming this time, know where it's going to be centered. Having that intrusion against your scent glands, after Damiano had been so thorough in stimulating them, sounded unpleasant.
“Deeper. All the way,” you ask. He heeds your request and you can feel the pressure from the knot above your belly button. Damiano trembles against you and without that stabilization, he would probably collapse. Seeing your alpha so void of defenses was a privilege. This was no accident, he’d decided to allow you this close and allow himself to fall apart in front of you. Dami’s mouth was wide open as he pulled this knot from the very core of his alphaism, thick eyebrows first raised, then furrowed while he groaned. 
“Breathe with me,” you coax, and not just for his benefit. You hike your legs up higher because that feels good, knees at the bottom of Dami’s ribcage. Keeping calm is key, even as the knot starts to feel invasive it also feels fundamentally right. For the first time today, Dami’s face relaxes, finally.
“That’s it, I think.”
“Huh?”
“My knot, that's all.” 
“Oh,” you sigh, breaking into a smile, too preoccupied with how serene he looked. “Okay!” Dami shudders like he’s reached the point of oversensitivity, but he’s smiling.
“Holy shit, I really needed this.” His sturdy arms shake and Dami collapses against you, groaning in embarrassment. “I swear to god I can be good in bed.” He’s purposely hyperventilating, trying to supply enough oxygen to get his strength back.
“Why are you rushing? It’s me.” Damiano’s eyes change from motivated to doting and he lets out an exaggerated whine. He’s blushing so hard that his ears are red. You run a finger over the soft skin on the shell of his ears. 
“Maybe I should be on top for now.”
“I swear on my life I can be good in bed…and if I’m not I will learn so fucking quickly,” he swears, visable anxious.
“I really like that thing we were just doing,” you reassure.
“Well of course you do,” he smirks, the return of his confidence seemingly instantaneous. Now you’re the one blushing, even though you don’t even know what Dami is referencing.
“Of course you liked grinding your cunt on my alpha cock. That felt good didn’t it, love?” Your breath gets caught in your chest and Dami starts rocking up and down like he had earlier. Moving against him, finding the exact right pace came so naturally.. 
“Grinding is your favorite thing, baby.” He waits for you to answer, but in your eyes lies a question. “Poor omega, doesn’t even know her favorite way to cum.” You try to respond without sacrificing rhythm.  
“I like…you.“ That doesn’t begin to cover it, but those three syllables are all you can muster.
“You like rubbing your clit on me,” Dami deadpans. You falter and lose rhythm, then can’t get back into the right pace. After a second failed orgasam you throw a mini-tantrum, whining in anguish. Damiano immediately feels guilty for interrupting with his teasing.
“Follow me,” he coaches, focused on keeping the exact same pace you enjoyed before being distracted. After a couple false starts, you sigh in relief when finding your pleasure again. Dami watches you surrender, relaxing into the mattress. He’s not expecting to feel you hauling him downward with all four limbs.
“Closer,” you demand, coiling your legs so tightly that it creates a seal. Dami shifts to his forearms and realizes what you really want is the pressure of his body against your pussy. He obliges and as soon as Damiano rests his weight, you squeal and kick.
“Good omega,” he murmurs, lower back beginning to tire at repeating the same movement for the last 15 minutes. The stimulation has reached a point where you’re trembling slightly at all times. It’s not like you hadn’t warned Dami that it took you longer to cum, but he just attributed that to incompetent past lovers. He knew better than to let you sense his surprise. Self-consciousness was an excellent way to make sure you never orgasamed with him again. 
You were trying to find that last bit of something needed to finish. Abandoning insecurity, you hand over control to your body and follow its intuition. Attempting to bring more intensity via pressure from your heels didn’t work. So you reach a hand all the way down to Dami’s glute and pull him more forcefully against you, gripping the muscle. He’s actually impressed with how carnal you’re being. 
You’d gotten much more worked up than Damiano intended. Accidentally edging you was not on the day's agenda. Orgasam during marking was a given, so Dami had just wanted to finish you while making love.
“Don’t tense and stop breathing. Breath with me like usual, okay? In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.” At first you shake your head, not wanting to put in the effort. In less than a second Damiano snaps his jaw right outside your ear and snarls. You’re very quickly nodding instead.
“In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.” Immediately, you realize how low your oxygen intake was on the cusp of orgasam. You’d been within a minute of cumming for so long, and received meaningful stimulation even before that. As soon as you focused on your air intake it was a fight not to gasp.
 “Good girl.” Damiano watches the way your chest rises and falls. “Very good omega,” he reiterates. “Next time you want this, just ask for harder.” He grinds against you with little thrusts, employing all that force you were trying to create. It's rougher than you ever thought you’d like, but you do like it, very much so. Your limbs are moving independently, flailing and searching for some palace to anchor. You fold yourself around Damiano so he can’t stop this movement, so he won’t deprive you again.
“Breathe,” he demands. It’s too hard, so you shake your head and Damiano is once again by your ear. He presses your profile into the pillow and this time you can hear impatience in his snarl. Making good on his warning, Dami bites you as a consequence. The sensation makes you gasp and catch your breath, just as he wanted. Still, inhaling is hard because you’re on the brink of orgasam. You’ve been on the brink of orgasam. Cumming in front of people has always been an issue. It just hadn’t been with Dami up until now.
“I can’t do it! I don’t know why, but I can’t. I want to, but I just can’t. Ugh!” Damiano slows way down, but keeps the same amount of force. 
“Yes, you can. Say it.”
“I can’t –”
“I know you’re able to submit, but you have to want to. Say it.” You think for a moment, then cave.
“I can cum.” It feels stupid, like some self help bullshit.
“You can cum.” Damiano staring into your eyes and telling you this, commanding it, feels a great deal different.
“I can cum.” Your bodies increase the pace in tandem, familiar with this movement after so many repetitions already.
“You can cum.” The sensation of orgasam crawls up your throat like a scream. Cosmic energy flows through your body, all the way to your fingertips. It’s immediately overwhelming and you want to back down. Making love to an alpha brought a different level of intensity, with the primal aspects and unparalleled connection. However, you’d thought that was something shared, not reflected in your individual orgasam. Was this an individual experience, though? Because it didn’t feel individual, in fact it felt like Damiano was in your head a little bit.
“You can cum,” he repeats. This was a sensation you’d first like to experience independently, before someone else saw your reaction. Of course, the only to feel this was in front of Damiano.
“I’m scare – I don’t like…”
“I know, love. You can cum.”
“I can cum,” you whisper so low that some of the syllables aren’t even spoken. 
“You can cum.” You inhale and pull Damiano close, his skin an endless anecdote.
“I can cum. I can cum, I can cum, I can – Dami! Dami,Dami!!” you squeal while squirming in overwhelm. He’s in your ear counting. The sensation of orgasam momentarily chokes you before turning your vision black. Eyes now scrunched closed, you see stars while your pelvis cramps again and again. You give up moving and cling, but Dami keeps working you through your orgasam. 
It stretches on and on, so much longer than any other climax before. You gather a bit of courage and open your eyes, gazing at Damiano while your nails ruin his back. Seeing him as the waves of endorphins debilitate you is the best comfort. He’s still in headspace, watching over you with an intensity that would scare anyone else. But not you, notes Dami. You look at him like he’s the sun while bearing down on his cock with everything you’ve got. 
His pubic hair is soaked with your slick. He notices this and the thought causes a chain reaction. Both Dami’s hips and cock twitch which prompts your eyelids to flutter. He tries thrusting and now your back is arching, pushing your breasts towards his face. Damiano pulls a nipple into his warm, wet mouth, the foreign sensation making you shudder while your eyes actually roll into the back of your head. Mindlessly, Damiano starts using his teeth, just scraping up the side of the sensitive bud. You squeal in the way he so enjoyed earlier while your nails bruise his shoulder blades. 
Judging by the very visceral reaction, it's obvious he’s unlocked the key to future orgasams. You let out noises like an injured animal the moment before its neck is snapped. Damiano is overcome, by the urge to consume you, by the urge to protect his omega who has revealed her own fragility in a moment of pleasure. 
Through the intensity of the interaction, he’d forgotten to make sure you’re breathing to draw out your climax. After a few seconds of clenching your entire body, that shining peak is summited, and you fall into the afterglow. He watches your face crumple and finally remembers to release. Damiano is horrified to see that his teeth have left purple marks in your areola. The only thing that could satiate is mating, but it was way too early to ask for that. It was too early to think about it.
He moves to pull out, but feels your legs tighten around his hips. It wasn’t any use to begin with, you were still knotted.The place omega and alpha joined was a great comfort as your head was made cloudy by a surplus of oxytocin. However, Dami’s presence was diminished without him moving, or speaking, or scenting. Mentally, you reach towards your alpha with both hands. And physically try to do the same, but fail. He’d been so precisely in tune with you a minute ago.
“My love,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of the way and putting his lips on your neck. It's just what you’d wanted. Damiano caresses your ass and rolls onto his side so he can hold you with both arms. You sigh, trying to feel your fingers and toes as he kisses all over your face, except the lips. Forehead three times, cheeks, up the bridge of the nose, and even the chin. His hands rub your back slowly as you come down, reminding that he’d instructed you not to rush this part before. Still, some reassurance would be nice.
“I don’t…rush,” you try.
“Mhm, take your time, love. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere. I cherish this time with you. Don’t rush your body, love. You’re doing perfectly.” You nod, hoping he’ll keep going. “My omega is doing the best job. My omega is doing exactly what she’s supposed to. Y/n is such a good girl, you’re doing so well.” Damiano’s affirmations feel like liquid gold in your veins. Never had you dared to ask for these words that felt so euphoric to hear, not wanting to be vulnerable. To like encouragement, was to want it, was to have a weakness.
“I’m weak with you.”
“No baby,” he murmured. “You’re just you.”
Notes: fuck it. this is not gonna do well numbers wise because my Tumblr hasn't been restored. while I am an attention whore, I'm so tried of not posting this when its been totally done for days so
-XOXO Eden
Taglist: @bieberhoodforever@blackberryblossom@butkutee@cuzimitaliano@elvirabelle@iamtashaquinn@icarodamiano@idyllicbutterfly@ilwiwbysmv@immrbrightsideeee@little-moonbeam-666@maneslut@mortyandem@the-chaotic-cow@wasteddoubts@weareoddlydrawn@whore4damia@azertyhug@biancathecool@xweirdxsceletton@bohemianrainbow@daisy0gf@dustyinkpages@katyldamusic@minnietmouse@obiw4n@persona1read1ng@gr8rainbowpunk@hiraetheral@iosonoarina@l0standn0tf0und@que--sera--sera@stardustingold@teenyweenynightghost@softmullet@solacestyles@thegeminisgirl@bobfood@slavicgoddess13 @harryssshouseee
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malina-33 · 7 months
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Femme Like You - Chapter 2
Chapter 1
Summary: You are the new tour manager for Arctic Monkeys during The Car era. You are practically the only girl in the team, also younger than the rest (27 y.o.), so your skills are immediately called into question. In particular, by the frontman who is not used to being led by a woman.
Word count: 10,2k
Warnings: swearing, emotional swing (is it even a warning?), kind of voyeurism (slight), age gap
A/N: Dear friends, hi!! I know, I know that I've promised you to update the fic every 3 weeks, and the disappeared for 1.5 months, but I spontaneously found a job, so there was very little time. But the chapter is much longer and with some interesting collaborations ;) I'll hope you enjoy them!
And write down what do you think if I make a description of not only the whole work, but also the chapter before each new part? Or is it better to keep the intrigue till the end?
In any case, I look forward to your feedback, it's soooo much important for me. I won't promise to return before the end of September, but I'll do my best not to delay. I already have an interesting plot for the next chapters, you should like it💔
*guys, English isn't my first language so if I have (and I know I have lol) any grammar/logic mistakes don't hesitate to tell me :)
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The first week after meeting with the group flew by unnoticed. You dealt with the documentation, understanding how necessary it is, no matter how much you hated it, phoned the representatives of Ashton Gate stadium, made sure that everything was okay and confirmed the presence of the group and even tried to check the weather since the gig would be held outside. However, it turned out to be a little more difficult with the transport company. Apparently, James forgot to warn them about the temporary removal of his duties, so you had to spend time clarifying the situation and explaining who you are. It seemed that your hands-on approach was excessive, because you were trying to control everything in one time, but only due to the feeling of extra responsibility.
Steven, as promised, sent the contacts of the guys and important people from the technical crew, so now your phone had the names of Jamie Cook, Nick O'Malley, Matthew Helders and Alex "dickhead" Turner among others. 19 years old you would definitely envy yourself. So when you got a message while cooking pasta for dinner on Saturday night, you already knew it was from the drummer and not from an anonymous online scammer.
Matthew Helders: "good evening, Miss Y/S! I hope you aren't busy. We'll wait you on the soundcheck on Monday at 2 pm in Domino, need your advice :)"
You almost overcooked Carbonara bacon rereading the message. "Do they really need my advice?" you whispered, furrowing your brows "About what?". But the only answer was:
You: "Sure! Do I need to take some 12% cider?"
Matthew Helders: "you better not show up without a package lol"
Immediately followed by:
Matthew Helders: "just kidding! We are waiting only for you, but in the company of cider it will be even better)"
You chuckled, surprised at how quickly Matt went from formal Miss at the beginning of the conversation to smiles and lols at the end. To tell the truth, you still didn't fully understand how to behave with them. On the one hand, you are their manager and have a certain influence, as well as subordination. Steven and James don't have it, although they are "higher" in position, but they've been friends for half of a life, and you are a completely new person. On the other hand, in this area there is no place for strict formalities, especially since the guys don't look like those who would comply with them. After all they were big kids no matter how mature and pretentious they could look on stage, and you clearly felt it. Maybe your company will help them to relax even more, so there won't be any awkwardness and you will naturally find an edge where all of you will feel comfortable and which no one will cross.
With those thoughts, Carbonara and Rosé you spent your Saturday night watching your favorite series "La Piovra". You got used to such calm and quiet evenings. The era of parties until the morning has passed in the university years, and it’s not that you don’t go to clubs now, it’s just that the older you become the better you began to appreciate moments of silence. Not to be bored alone with yourself is the most valuable skill that you have acquired in your life. Having lived first with your parents for a long time, then getting married early at the age of 20 and having lived with your husband for 3 years, you were essentially not left alone with yourself. Having discovered over time that you feel absolutely nothing for the person whom you said "yes" to in the registry office, you were horrified and frightened to say at least. You thought that you get married once for a lifetime, but it turned out that happy endings exist only in fairy tales. That period of despondency, depression and eventual deepening into work gave its results. Major labels began to notice you, inviting you to musical projects with famous bands such as Maneskin. You worked with them for 1.5 years, leaving after their heyday at the Eurovision, realizing that you can’t give them more. That was your second decision to leave, but unlike the divorce, it didn't bring you much suffering. You understood that you and the group gave each other a lot, and although the parting was bitter, everyone understood that it was necessary. You still remained friends with the guys and periodically wrote off to meet. You planned to go to their concert, but couldn't find the time. And after your assignment to the Monkeys it became even more harder to shedule.
After the divorce you didn't have a serious relationship, instead you had a dream job, money, a car, a country house and even a corgi Grapes. You weren't afraid of the future, loved the time in seclusion and found inner peace by meditating on the production of cider, which was your unusual but very tasty hobby. Were you fully happy, though? Wouldn't you like to cross the threshold of the house and be met not by a dog's barking, but by a warm kiss on the forehead and a quiet "how was your day"? You probably wanted to, but it was hard to admit, especially considering that the fear of intimacy sat somewhere deep inside, not letting you forget the disappointment that you experienced when you removed the engagement ring from your finger. Although you remained friends who didn't hold evil against each other, the bitterness of your marriage was almost impossible to remove from the memories.
But for now, your head has been occupied by the sudden question of where to put Grapes for the duration of the tour...
Monday morning was sunny and peaceful, you woke up in a surprisingly good mood, put on your make-up, put on your favorite lime flared jeans, loaded a case of apple drink from the basemеnt into the car, patted Grapes and drove off to the studio. The road took about an hour, so during this time you managed to phone your father. You haven't talked much lately due to your workload, and now was almost the only time of the day when you were relatively free. You put the speaker phone mode, listening to the slightly hoarse voice of the man, without being distracted from the road.
"Hello my dear! How are you?"
"Hi daddy, I'm fine, going to work right now"
"My busy bee, James has already told me about your progress" you could hear him chuckle, coughing a little. You could only guess what Ford said to your father, because you spoke to him only once in these 2 weeks, when you recalled him after meeting with the group. And not that your story was very colorful. Therefore, the guys or Steven contacted him, and from this point of view, you couldn't imagine what they possibly come up with towards you.
"He assured me the boys liked you"
"Oh, really?" you said on the exhale, squeezing your hands on the steering wheel tightly.
"Yes, James is pleased with you. Well done, babe!" you melted under his words. It felt like you were a little girl again who drew a family picture that was hung on the refrigerator, even though mom and dad looked like monsters.
"Thank you daddy, I'm very happy to be with them actually"
"Of course, in such a company of men. Should I be jealous? 'Cause I looked through their photos on the Internet" dad said proudly, to which you burst out laughing, stopping at a traffic light.
"Dad, c'mon, no! They're too old for me" you laughed.
"10 years are not a big deal. Anyway, your choice. Just don't forget to eat please, I know how tough you work now. Otherwise you'll get drunk on your cider. God, how did you even manage to get into this alcohol sphere..." the man groaned in prostration. You rolled your eyes, but still smiled without answering. You got used to your father's fast flow of different thoughts.
"And don't roll your eyes, little naughty one! I care about you. So if they hurt you, you know who to call, right?"
"Oi, who will offend whom first" you retorted defiantly.
"Okay okay, I won't interrupt anymore. Kiss Grapes for me. I love you"
"And I love you very much, hello mom"
"I'll pass it on, bye!"
You turned off the call, fully focusing on the road. After talking with your parents, you always felt warm in your soul, so up to the studio you didn't leave a smile when you sang songs from the radio under your breath.
You arrived exactly at 2 o'clock, as agreed with Matt, but when you saw a few more cars in the parking lot in addition to the familiar Cadillac, you realized that the guys had been here for a long time. You must have looked a little ridiculous in a business suit and heels and a wooden box under your arm, but you didn't have other choice. Holding the car key in your mouth and trying to press the button at the same time, you clumsily closed the trunk with your leg. A purse was still dangling somewhere on your shoulder, and sunglasses had slipped from head to the bridge of your nose. "Must be an amazing picture to observe" you thought tiredly "Oh, if only Matt were here".
But before you had time to think about it, you heard a soft laugh behind you. You turned around sharply, noticing the frontman smoking alone near the entrance. You spat the key into the box, finally pressing the right button, and shouted
"And how long do you look?"
"I came exactly at the most interesting moment" man smiled, taking a puff.
You heavily crossed the entire parking lot, approaching him. Turner, having finished smoking a cigarette and throwing it into a nearby trash can, silently took the box from your hands.
"Hi, Y/N" he greeted you wheezing nicotine in the lungs.
"Hi," you frowened a little, but slowly added "Alex".
Calling him by his first name was... Unusual. A week ago the appeal to him was exclusively Mr. Turner, but today he was the first to break this line. "Well, apparently, we will both have problems with the boundaries of what is acceptable" bitterly flashed through your thoughts.
You both entered the building - Alex with a box in front, you behind holding the door. The way was silent. You wanted to say something to break this crystal quietness of his, but by the time you mustered up the courage, you stopped at the door 13A. The vocalist pushed it with his left shoulder, squeezing the alcohol forward, and you trotted along.
As soon as you and Alex entered the sound studio, you were immediately greeted with whistling and loud hooting.
"Look who's here, Miss Y/N"
"Hi, guys! I'm here with gifts as promised" you smiled broadly.
Alex at this time put the box on the table and immediately took one bottle for himself.
You noticed that there were Tyler and Tom in the studio as well, so you mentally praised yourself for taking bottles with a margin. You didn't know them personally yet, but was willing to change it. Turner introduced you to the men, and surprisingly you didn't hear his usual sneer in the voice.
"So, welcome Y/N Y/S, she's our manager for the summer before America starts and James gets back"
"Happy to finally meet you!" you were the first to extend your hand to Tyler, which he shook gently, smiling affably, and then to Tom. But he intercepted your hand, kissing your knuckles and making you laugh.
"Mutually, Miss" Rowley said enchanted.
"And she makes her own awesome cider, get one" Matt ordered businesslike, raising his voice from behind the drum kit.
"Yeah, there is enough for everyone, don't hesitate to take"
Evidently you arrived during the break, and before that they had already rehearsed a bit. You were wondering what kind of advice they need from you. The thought that they just needed cider you pushed back with a grin. But Alex, as if reading your thoughts, leisurely started speaking leaning on the table and holding a drink.
"Well, thanks for the cider, but that's not what we called you for. Since you're such a big fan of My Propeller, we discussed it here and decided that it's possible to put one on the set list for a couple of times. So listen to how it sounds, maybe have some ideas or whatevah" he was trying to sound casual, not attaching importance to his words for you.
"I'll do my best!" you almost jumped from such news.
Jamie chuckled audibly, running his fingers over the guitar. You sat down on the couch as Matt tapped the rhythm with his sticks and the melody began.
Seductive. The first association that came to your mind when you heard the intro of this song. It was your favorite from Humbug for sure and one of the band's all time favorites. Alex never told in any interview what was the secret of the lyrics, and probably that was the reason it attracted you even more. The guys played it selflessly, as if there hadn't been those decades that they hadn't performed it. You liked how they gave themselves to the process, even if it was just a rehearsal. They were in simple t-shirts and Matt was proudly wearing pineapple shorts, but you could swear, a real concert was unfolding right in front of you.
When Alex started singing you tried to hide the goosebumps as best as you could, but it hardly worked out well. His voice flowed melodically, not betraying a hint of wheezing or breaking, which could arise due to the age. He closed his eyes, tightly gripping the microphone stand, and moved his feet to the beat, slightly ridiculous, but at the same time gracefully. Throughout the song, you didn’t take your eyes off the group for a minute, sometimes singing along to the words, pulling the last syllable of
 Coax me out my law
And have a spin of my propeller
When the song ended, you clapped and Nick even made a mock bow.
“I don’t know how objective my assessment will be, because apart from the words of delight I have nothing to add” you honestly admitted. It seemed to you that you heard Alex's quiet "As I said", but Matt was quick to interrupt him asking you "Actually, we have already decided to play it in Bristol, but the question is where to chip in. We'll definitely not start with this one, and the outro is already completed, so..."
You thought a little, trying to understand what motives My Propeller reminds you of, and then the penny dropped.
"Pretty Visitors!" you exclaimed louder than you should have because your words echoed through the silent studio.
"Smooth interlude from Pretty Visitors, yeah, not bad actually" Alex quickly developed your idea, turning to Matt, as if asking "Do you mind?", but the drummer only closed his eyes approvingly. It seemed that they didn't need any words at all, they could understand each other with guitar riffs and drum brakes. Their connection, it was amazing, honed to automatism for past 20 years. They were like scientists in a chemistry lab mixing potions together in an attempt to make a new elixir. It was magic to come true and watching this process was so intimate that you involuntarily felt the heat on your cheeks, as if you were engaged in voyeurism.
***
The hours in the studio flew by. Fortunately for you, the guys decided to surprise fans with the return of Mardy Bum which will be the opener. The exact setlist for Bristol was confirmed at the end of the rehearsal, bringing back Teddy Picker and The View From The Afternoon as well. So looking at the perfect 21 songs, you could only imagine what they would save for London. Originally you were going to visit their concert in your hometown, you bought tickets as soon as sales were announced, but after James's call you easily gave the ticket to a friend, saying that you had won a jackpot.
Tom and Tyler have already left and the five of you are left. You were sitting on a soft chair, moved from the corner of the room, and the guys opposite on the sofas. The boys had laid down their guitars and you were leding a peaceful conversation about life, since the studio rental time ended only in an hour. You told them about your career in the industry, Maneskin and the part time projects you've been working on lately, omitting the details of your divorce because you thought it was too early for them to immerse themselves in such personal aspects of your life.
"By the way, Vic is your big fan and Alex in particular" you giggled, remembering the way drunk Maneskin bassist told you that she would like to sleep with Turner. Those were the carefree times of your youth you warmly remembered.
"Really?" Matt raised his eyebrows as he sipped his seemingly endless bottle of cider "You still have their contacts, right?"
"Yeah, sure, we even text each other occasionally" you quipped.
"And you didn't say you were working with us?" Heldres was surprised.
"Actually, somehow it didn't seem possible" you lowered your gaze, "I mean what would it look like? "Hey guys, look who's here, I now manage the Monkeys btw?" - so what?"
You could tell by the Cheshire smile on Matt's bristly face that this was exactly how he thought.
"Oh no, Matthew, don't you-"
"Oh yes, darling, dial FaceTime, you'll show them our doll" the man neighed, turning to Alex, who had been sitting quietly on the couch until this moment, and fidgeted in place after the suggestion.
"For God's sake, Matt, what a kindergarten behavior" the vocalist howled irritably, rolling his eyes, "I don't even remember their names".
The idea of making fun of Turner a little for the morning case with the box and taking revenge seemed to you unexpectedly delightful. Your hand automatically sank into your pants pocket, deftly pulling it out into the light and finding the right WhatsApp chat.
"Don't worry, you just have to say hi to Vic, I'm sure you'll be fine" you sang sweetly, glancing slyly at Matt, who chuckled approvingly, glad that you supported his idea.
Alex only cursed at this and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. Either from nerves, or putting his hair in order before the call.
You moved from your seat to the couch between Alex and Matt, gesturing for Nick and Jamie to join. You put your hand in front of you so only your face was visible in the camera frame, waiting for one of the guys to take the call. It might have been a little ill-advised to call like this without warning on a workday evening, but anyway it was already too late, as the beeps trailed in a string of sounds. You hoped that they didn't have a concert today, in any other case, one of them would definitely pick up the phone from you. And by a happy coincidence, it was Vic who ended up on your screen.
"What the hell, Miss Boogie, are you really occasionally calling after all this time of silence?" despite Victoria de Angelis's accusatory words, she sounded playful. She was a little disheveled and with a bright blush on her face. People were walking randomly with the string interruptions in the background. Apparently, the guys were at the soundcheck at one of the venues, and Vic recently finished playing.
Four pairs of eyes openly stared at you with undisguised interest after hearing the nickname, demanding an answer, but you just mouthed "later".
"Awww, sweetheart, and I'm happy to hear you again too!" you said with an ironic smile.
 "I have a lot of news for you, and I will definitely call you in private soon"
"Are you not alone? Who's with you?" the girl even moved closer to the camera in an attempt to see something.
"Well, I have a little surprise for you. Actually four surprises, but one of them you'll find really special" you said conspiratorially, looking around at the guys who were still out of the picture. Alex sat to your right, trying to portray the most distant look, as if everything that was happening was nothing more than baby talk for him.
"Darling, if you have a group orgy without me, then I will be offended and drop the call" the bassist said threateningly, wiping her forehead with a towel that was hung on her shoulder.
You just burst out laughing "Ok ok, I'm not languishing you anymore. I hope you're ready. Boys, say hi to Vics" and you finally moved the camera further so that Matt, Nick and Jamie, who were sitting to your left, got into the camera frame, Alex's appearance you saved for a dessert.
The musician's reaction exceeded all your expectations. At first she narrowed her eyes, bringing the phone even closer to face, and then she widened them with a loud squeal, jumping up from her seat.
"What the hell, Y/N! What the actual fuck, you're a shitty mutherfucker!!!" she covered her mouth with her hand, chaotically moving the phone in different directions. Apparently, other members of the group came running to her scream, as you heard the voice of Damiano asking what happened.
"What happened?" she repeated "The fucking Arctic Monkeys are sitting next to Y/N!" answering a question off-camera and stabilizing the phone. Now you could clearly see the vocalist leaning over her shoulder, Thomas to the side and Ethan slightly behind.
Finally, the men next to you decided to introduce themselves "Hey, guys, what's new?" Matt said smiling to the camera, Jamie and Nick just waved their hands in a friendly manner.
"Oh my God, what's going on" Vic, still dumbfounded, spoke with a face of complete amazement. Damiano, who quickly figured out the whole situation and realized that Vic was unlikely to be able to communicate normally now, carefully took the phone from her hands.
"Hi, Y/N, long time no see! Hi, boys, how fresh you are" the frontman winked. The words "for your age" were suggested mutely, but David left them behind the scenes. The men next to you just laughed quietly at this remark and saluted the Italian boy.
"Vic, that's not all yet, look who's next to me" wanting to finally finish off your friend, you moved the camera to the side, revealing Alex's presence, who was already sitting with a polite smile on his face, leaning on the sofa armrest.
"Hi, love" Turner murmured hoarsely, turning on his usual charisma. You were surprised how quickly he went from "fuck off everyone" to his stage persona. Indeed, a skill acquired over the years.
De Angelis, after looking at the camera for just a second, squealed even harder than the first time, which you even grimaced a little, because in a quiet studio it sounded deafening.
The camera was still held by Damiano, but the girl in the frame could be seen doubled over, holding back cries of happiness. Her guys just laughed out loud at this, knowing full well what a strong fan of Alex she was.
"Y/N, I'm going to fucking kill you, I'll strap your ass so you can't sit still for another week, what are you doing to me?" Vic didn't let go of expressions, which made the men next to you shamelessly laugh, even Turner smiled predatoryly.
"Holy shit, you're real" the girl muttered in one breath.
Her adoration entertained Alex. Celebrities fangirling celebrities wasn't an unknown story for Alex, so the way Vic behaved didn't annoy him, but brought a feeling of sincere pleasure from what was happening.
"It would be strange if I wasn't, mhm?" the man grunted, changing the position - now he rested elbows on his knees, bringing the face closer to your phone. You could smell his light apple scent from the cider you both drank and the cigarette halo that soaked into all of the frontman's clothes.
Damiano finally decided to take control over the situation by turning the camera completely on himself.
"So, Y/N, if you wanted to surprise Vic, then you succeeded 100%! But we are now at soundcheck, and we don't have much time, and she" nodding towards the bassist "still needs to be brought to her senses. We were extremely happy to hear from you, babe. Call us when you are free and tell us everything in detail. Miss you very much!"
"Guys, me too! Love ya, see you at Glasto!"
"Wait! Take a screenshot!" Vic's desperate exclamation came from Damiano's left side.
He made a focused face, looking for the right buttons, while you and the men simultaneously smiled at the camera.
"Send it to the chat" you asked, ending the call and blowing a virtual kiss. You obviously cut off Vic's "I love you" without being entirely sure it was addressed to you.
The studio immediately froze in deafening silence. You put your phone down on the coffee table, still smiling.
"That was a real buzz, they're cute" Matt said leaning back on the couch. The mood of the guys clearly improved by this little conversation. You were glad that you could somehow diversify their evening after a productive and exhausting day. Even Alex stopped keeping his always compressed lips and frowning eyebrows.
"So, Miss Boogie, right?" Jamie began slyly, reminding you of your infamous nickname.
An approving "ooooo" reverberated around the room, from which you hid behind your palms.
"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget" you muttered from your hiding place.
"C'mon, we're intrigued already" Nick reached out to you through Matt, gently taking your hands away from your face.
Jamie suddenly started chanting your name, encouraging you to reveal this terrible secret, and Matt whistled as if Sheffield FC had just scored a goal.
"God, okay, just shut up please" you gave up.
The four men took more comfortable positions in anticipation of your story.
"In fact, there is nothing special in this story, it's just stupid. When Maneskin was approved for Eurovision, we went to celebrate, how can we not. It was in Milan. We got very drunk in a bar and went for a walk around the city. It was about 3 in the morning, and to entertain ourselves we played Truth or Dare. The most banal thing that could be, but nothing better came to mind. And I chose Dare, 'cause everyone else only cowardly told their secrets. So Vic asked me to dance for a minute on the street to any song that a passerby would name. Well, since at such time you are unlikely to meet any adequate passerby, we only found a beggar in the square. I don’t know how old he was, but the first song that he remembered was Boogie Wonderland" at this point you made a dramatic pause, "so yes, I had to dance to this song at night in front of other poor people who came up to us. Since then they call me Miss Boogie. Everyone is satisfied now, having fun, huh?"
You intentionally crossed your arms in insult, surreptitiously watching the laughing band.
"I bet there's a video" Matt said cheekily.
"Yes, there is, but you'll never see it!" you retorted quickly, glaring at the drummer.
"Your hot cheeks make me want to see this video even more" Nick teased tapping Matt on the shoulder.
"You know what," Alex suddenly announced, "choose any song you want. We play it, and you show the video"
You could swear your jaw was somewhere on the floor.
"Woah, did you decide to go all-in?" Matt asked, also not expecting such a generous offer "Be careful, otherwise you will have to play a Taylor Swift song"
"Ouch, why do you think I like her?"
"Who doesn't like her?"
"Your truth" you nodded approvingly.
"I meant our song. We'll perform it at the concert" Turner interrupted your dialogue, looking at you testily from under his eyelashes.
There was a slight silence, which you broke with a heavy sigh.
"Wow, okay, this is getting interesting" you muttered, leaning back on the couch like Helders had done earlier. The three men to your left looked at each other in surprise, waiting for an answer, while you've been thinking, looking at the frontman.
"Certain Romance," you easily stated, "I want this one"
"Your wish is my command, Miss Boogie," he joked without any hint of smile, standing up "you guys remember how to play it, don't you?"
The guys looked at each other dumbfounded, unable to find words for such a drastic change in the behavior of the vocalist, but after a discordant series of affirmative nods, they received a condescending smile from him.
"Well, that's great, there's still time to rehearse. I propose Sheffield!" Alex said solemnly, thrusting his hands into the pockets.
"Al, ru ok?" Matt raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"All right, man" Turner said artificially.
"This house is a circus indeed" swirled through your head. Alex's behavior was defiant. Emerging into conflict. Literally a minute ago everything was peace and quiet, and now he, like a proud peacock, was arranging a show for you at the level of a cheap soap opera.
"No, but seriously, let's even organize a lottery, since Y/N has such an influence on the setlist" Alex didn't let up.
"Come on, pipe down, you suggested it yourself" Nick intervened carefully, not wanting to stir up the smoldering coals of the conflict.
"And I think all of you are into this idea, aren't you?" Turner didn't raise his low, heavily accented baritone, but the underlying toxicity in his tone was evident, "oh, even better, let's ask our Italian friends for advice! Let's get their opinion and her video as well".
"Alexander, smoke?" you stood up decisively from the couch, grabbing your purse and phlegmatically glancing at the wooden cider box you'd probably have to leave in the studio. But you couldn’t leave the guys in such an atmosphere, so out of courtesy you promised to return again.
"Y/N, no problem, see you before Bristol! Send the screen to our group, 'cause I'm getting jealous for these Italians" Matt gave you an encouraging wink in the end, and you certainly promised to do it tonight.
"They'll kill each other"
"He doesn't stand a chance"
Jamie and Matt said at the same time as the door closed behind you.
Alex imposingly walked ahead, not hurrying anywhere. He politely said goodbye to the security guard, noting that the rental period had already come to an end. Almost bowing, he opened the door to the street for you, artificially gallantly holding it with his hand, still making a show from every gesture, which for some reason made you feel disgusted. You were counting on working with middle-aged men, accomplished musicians, but it feels like you are talking to teenagers.
Damp cold air from the river hit your red cheeks, which made you wrap yourself in a jacket more tightly. Alex took out a pack of Marlboro, offering you one, but nodding to himself, removed it, remembering your words a week ago practically at the same place.
"Well?" he said with a cigarette in his mouth, lighting the filter.
The sky was overcast with a milky haze of fog, which wasn't uncommon for these places, a weak wind was blowing, but not a single sound from the road was heard, which made you hear sparks from ignited tobacco hiss like champagne bubbles, falling on the asphalt.
Alex exhaled noisily, squinting at you with his eyes. His face was faintly lit by the flame of a cigarette, but even in such low light, it was noticeable that his gaze was completely blank. "Amazingly indifferent and deep eyes at the same time. It's impossible to tell anything from them" you thought. Or maybe he was like this only with unpleasant people to him, who you apparently were. You can’t even imagine the way these eyes changed on stage "Where are you real, Alexander?". But instead of asking this, you just threw your head back, tiredly closing your eyelids, showing with your whole appearance how absurd the situation is.
"Alex," there wasn't any visible point to call him Mr. Turner even though you were annoyed "I thought we made a deal, didn't we?"
"Really? When?" his voice sounded even more affected than in the studio, despite the fact that now the man spoke rather quietly and slowly. Or maybe even a whisper would be loud in this ringing silence.
"I just don't understand what the problem is" you continued, as if you didn't hear his words.
"I don't see it either, Miss Y/S"
You raised your eyebrows high as you asked a silent question, which made Alex smirk slightly. Taking a puff, he began to explain to you with the intonation of a parent teaching a child not to put his fingers in the socket.
"Listen, I won't hide it, you brought some chaos to our tour. This is different from your direct duties though - to solve all the problems on our way. But you're a stranger who stirred up our peace and foundation. I was initially against this idea, but James left me no choice. You are undoubtedly an educated young lady, and probably from a moral point of view, I sound like a scoundrel now-"
"You sound unprofessional, Alex. You only make me feel contempt, and I don't care about any moral side"
The frontman looked at you from under his brows, taking out a second cigarette in a row from the pack, waiting for a further reaction, but inside you was a frozen magma that didn't want to break out, muffled by self-esteem. For now.
His words contradicted his behavior. In the morning he carries your boxes and asks for a song advice, and in the evening he gives out this shit. If women's logic is ridiculed by society, then men do not have it at all.
“You know what, when James offered me this job, I was damn excited and proud that I would be working with a team like yours. I was on a cloud nine. But you, Alex, you're just a spoiled boy in the body of a 37-year-old man who hasn't overplayed his ambitions and thinks that his subtle nature is so fragile to understand that you need to hide behind the facade of an asshole so that normal people with good intentions don't crawl into your soul. You are cowardly and arrogant!"
You were breathing heavily, and the words "fool fool fool" stretched on repeat in a red line behind your eyes.
You didn't even understand how they escaped from your lips, absolutely thoughtlessly. You even instinctively wanted to raise a hand to cover your mouth, but pulled yourself back in time, deciding to play to the end. Show after show.
Alex hadn't raised a cigarette to his face during your tirade, so that the wick was almost dead in his fingers. You intensively looked at each other without stopping, and at some point it seemed to you that fear flashed in his pupils. Fear of the revealed truth. However, they were covered with a thick veil of indifference to what was happening in a second, and he finally took the last puff, throwing the butt right on the road.
"Miss Y/S, it seems that you have to go" the musician said unemotionally.
You took one last burning look at his features and, without saying a word, turned around towards your car. How ironic, a week ago you left each other in roughly the same sequence of activities - studio, cider, parking lot, but under completely different circumstances.
Slamming the door shut, you sharply revved, not bothering to warm up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot with a clang of tires. Burning tears of resentment gushed from your eyes, covering the already foggy road in front, but you didn't pay attention.
Your cooperation has just begun, and you have already swept on an emotional swing. Only in the morning you were driving in a car towards the sun and rejoicing at the warm words of your dad, and in the evening you return home, wiping the salty paths with the back of your hand from your face.
You were never embarrassed by tears, you cried out almost all of them during a divorce, but if they dripped from your eyes today, then there was a reason for that. Your parents taught you that after rain there is always a rainbow, after tears there is always peace of mind, you need to be able to live through any emotions in order to turn them into your power later.
***
You haven't seen the boys since that evening until today's early departure for Bristol. Of course, you communicated on all sorts of organizational issues during this time and there was no visible tension, especially since they didn't hear about your quarrel with Alex. You were more than sure that he would not tell his friends about that incident. This is what infringes on him, and therefore makes him weaker, which he couldn't allow.
All these days you have wondered what was the reason for such a sharp behavior, however you couldn't really delve into yourself. Why exactly you were crying - from resentment, overstrain or just an emotional outburst, it was also difficult to understand. Perhaps all together. Over the past month, from your first conversation with Ford to recent events, your life has changed 180 degrees, so it's no surprise that your psyche gave a little glitch.
You've comforted yourself with routines though — setting Grapes up with a friend until your next visit to London, inviting your parents over for dinner to tell you all the details, packing your suitcase for the tour, checking out all the technical stuff, and almost forgetting what kind of adventure you're packing for.
And now, without any idea of the nearest future, you were sitting in a black Mercedes Sprinter between Marcus and James Kerr, Ben was in the passenger seat in front, Steven was riding with the group in the bus. It was only 8 am, you were sleepy, only at the last moment you didn’t forget to remove eye patches before going out, you didn’t even put on makeup, so you sat in the wide sunglasses, even though the sun wasn't visible through the tinted windows of the car.
It seemed that everyone was relaxed, easily communicated with each other and knew exactly what each would do upon arrival at the venue. Unlike you. The schedule was pretty clear - check-in at the hotel, lunch, departure for the soundcheck and then free time for the management and the band, but very busy time for the technicians. Of all this, the most sensible thing was to drink plenty of wine at dinner and walk around the rest of the day in a relaxed state of mind, but those were only pitiful thoughts of creeping fear. Deep inside you were sure that everything would be fine, it couldn’t be otherwise, because even if you didn’t know how to do this or that task, the guys knew their duties, and they physically couldn’t play the concert badly.
"Hey, Y/N, you kinda took working with us too seriously" Marcus snapped you out of your thoughts with his mocking tone.
"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, turning to him.
He touched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and chuckled. It took you another couple of seconds to figure out what he meant, so he took advantage of your confusion to explain "you now going to wear glasses in the dark as well?"
The reference to Alex was read transparently, so you imperceptibly flinched and pointedly removed them, as if not wanting to be associated with him at all.
"No, no, I just didn't have time to do my make up" you honestly admitted, shrugging your shoulders ingenuously.
"Oh, I'm sorry, we-" the guy looked around at all the passengers, "we don't understand this here"
You laughed slightly, at the same time relaxing, and asked him a question that had been of interest to you for a long time.
"Why don't you have women in the team? I mean at all"
Instead of Marcus, Ben decided to answer from the front seat, apparently as the eldest among you.
“It didn’t happen on purpose, but later it became kind of unspoken rule. We are here like on the fishing, you know? We leave our wives, spend time within our male company, it’s like an alternative branch of your life, you do quality work here, you feel needed, while no one owe you nothing and you feel absolutely free in your actions, understanding thoroughly those who are around you"
"Are you aware that this is how a normal team should work, regardless of gender? It sounds somehow sexist. Am I really embarrassing you in actions?" you smiled slyly, anticipating the denouement.
"Actually, besides you, we have 3 other women in the team.." Marcus embarrassingly chipped in.
"Guys, don't bother yourself with excuses, I knew who I was messing with" you laughed, crossing your legs. Marcus looked at you dumbfounded, but said nothing, and James just chuckled softly at the window.
"Well, if you knew that, then you also should know about our tradition, right, guys?" Ben began in a conspiratorial tone, exchanging glances with the guys.
"Um, about what?" you arched an eyebrow in disbelief.
"The newbie is signed up for the after-party. Tonight is your first concert, and after that we go to the bar, the drinks are off you! We're equal here" Ben imperturbably continued to scan your reaction with a fox-eye, waiting for an answer. It's not that you're greedy or unable to pay, but to buy drinks for the whole team...
And as if ahead of your question, the man added "enough management and the band".
As if it changed the essence. But you couldn't refuse, so you mumbled something affirmative, getting a roar of male hoarse laughter in response, and starting to laugh at yourself. You appreciated in people, especially males, this ability - to make a woman laugh. In a time of constant change and stress, finding someone who will make you forget about it was very important.
The rest of the road was spent in the same good mood, and these conversations did help you to forget about your anxiety due to upcoming events. Upon arrival, all the management team and the band settled in the hotel. As James promise, you've been given a private suite overlooking the most beautiful park in the city center. But due to an unknown coincidence, you lived not on the same floor with the attendants, but through the door from the group.
Matt carried your things to your room and you agreed to meet for lunch in 20 minutes.
Since you were able to miraculously did a make up even in the car, thanks to the sensitive driving, now you decided to change into more presentable clothes in which you will be at the concert.
Without changing the habit of choosing clothes carefully and for a long time, you took off your hot sweatshirt, remaining in only sweatpants and starting to go through the whole suitcase in search of those things that would match your mood. You had a couple of looks planned, but today's unexpectedly warm weather changed your plans a little, so you confidently took out a black leather skirt and a white blouse.
A piece of matter fit all your forms perfectly, so you were satisfied with the choice, spinning in front of the mirror by the bed. The black bodice harmonized perfectly with the skirt, and the crazy idea of ​​staying only in it, without putting on anything, flashed through your head like a bullet, but flew out just as quickly as soon as you heard the muffled thud of heels on the carpet outside the door and a muttered "Jamie?" at your door followed by a knock. You hysterically shouted "No!" exactly at the moment when the door opened without a click.
"Shit, Y/N!" Alex, not having time to properly enter your room, but having clearly noticed you in a compromising way, abruptly recoiled, remaining in the corridor, but not completely closing the door so that he could hear you, but not see.
"God! What a mess" you pleaded, rushing to the door. You stuck out only your head, meeting the eyes of the musician, who was discomposedly staring at you point-blank.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Why are you naked?"
You asked at the same time, shouting over each other.
"This is my room! And I'm not naked!"
"Where's Jamie? I thought he was at 312" Turner asked, a little bewildered, clearly embarrassed.
"I have no idea where Jamie is. How did you even get in?" you were still half-dressed, hiding most of your body behind a wooden door.
"I knocked, but it turned out that it was not slammed at all"
"What the fuck? Maybe Matt didn't close when he left," you muttered more to yourself. You clearly saw the question “What did Matt do here?” that arose in Alex’s head, but which he never voiced. Clearly realizing that the dialogue could not be continued in this form, you abruptly switched the subject, trying to tear his eyes from your neck.
 "I was changing for dinner anyway, so see you there" you sharply slammed the door in front of him, not wanting to go into details, and tiredly leaned your head against the wooden surface from the inside.
"Crazy" you heard quiet along with receding soft steps.
It was your only meaningful conversation with the singer, since that evening. You understood that it couldn’t go on like this for a long time, but at the moment you didn’t have any ideas how to fix the situation. So you just finally put on the look you chose, after checking that the door was locked, then decided to add a black headband, and being satisfied with your appearance, went downstairs.
After lunch, the whole team went to the stadium, where the technicians had already set up half of the equipment. The guys immediately went to the sound check, and you and Steven went to meet Ashton Gate management. It seemed like there was still plenty of time before the concert, and you thought you would have a few more chances to double-check everything, but in the turmoil that was going on behind the scenes, this turned out to be impossible.
To be honest, you were overwhelmed by what was happening. The soft music, people around, the sun rays moving towards the sunset - this whole scene that was unfolding before you as you unexpectedly stepped onto the empty stage a few minutes before the crowd was let into the stadium looked surreal and incredibly familiar, as if you had been here many times before. The noise and chaos behind you contrasted with the tranquility in front of your eyes. The empty space that was about to be filled with a crowd in just a few minutes brought both excitement and serenity. These were the moments that seemed unreal, but made life worth living.
***
The show was about to start, and you stood next to the dark staircase, where the guys from the dressing room were soon to come up. Leaning on the railing, you nervously twirled a lock of hair around your finger. You went through all the items on the checklist in your head, checking off each one mentally, but something still bothered you.
Alex.
Your unfinished conversations and evasive behavior were weighing on you. You felt guilty, knowing that as his manager, you had behaved tactlessly, driven by emotions. It ate at you from the inside. You decided that you would talk to him today, apologize and put this issue to rest once and for all.
Suddenly you noticed a flickering light from the security, which meant that the group is entering the stage, and you turned sharply, both wanting and fearing to see them. As always, looking luxurious, these four men made their way up to the platform, remaining unnoticed by the audience.
"Good luck, guys! I'm buzzing as hell honestly" you tried to sound confident, but your voice trembled on the last word.
"Miss Y/S, is it just me or are you worried about us?" Nick lightly touched your shoulder in a reassuring gesture.
"Well, it's my first time with you" realizing how ambiguous that sounded, you interrupted yourself with a laugh.
"Oh, you'll love it, babe" Matt mimicked a voice from a cheap adult movie, tossing a stick in the air. It seemed like he could find the right words in any situation, and in the future, you would highly appreciate this skill.
All this time, you were glancing at Alex out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his emotions, but he calmly adjusted the folds on his unchanging dark blue jacket and stretched his neck with turns left and right. Seeing that the guys had moved a little away from you, you looked at your watch, estimating that you had 5 minutes maximum, and whispered to yourself "now or never".
"Alex!" you called him out loudly, trying to outshout the crowd "I wanted to talk, I know it's not the most appropriate time, but-"
"Y/N, forgive me, okay," the man unexpectedly began, barely approaching you. For the first time, you saw genuine excitement in his eyes, here, in the darkness of the backstage area of a 30,000-seat stadium. For some reason, only now you clearly feel the difference in height between you two. He looked down at you patronizingly. Maybe it was because of his heels or the knot of nerves in your stomach that made you feel so small in your attempt to hide from his penetrating gaze.
"I've been a complete jerk and acted childish from the very beginning. You didn't do anything to deserve such treatment. I don't want our tension to affect the group and our work in any way, so I admit my guilt"
You stood in shock, slightly opening your mouth. You absolutely did not expect such a turn of events, so your entire improvised speech evaporated from your mind instantly. He suddenly smiled softly, raising an eyebrow, as if asking 'well, what now?' Still not believing what you heard, you nodded your head almost automatically.
"Y-yes, you were a jerk indeed. But I also didn't behave entirely correctly, my first impression wasn't great either," you sighed in frustration, recalling your memories, "I suggest we start over, huh? Hi, my name is Y/N, I'm your new tour manager, nice to meet you" and to confirm your words, you gracefully extended your hand to him.
"Nice to meet you too, I'm Alex Turner, sort of singing here," he shook your hand with an energetic movement. His palm was dry and steady, causing a pleasant warmth throughout your body, "just business then?"
"Just business indeed. And a little bit of music" you said, more relaxed, smiling with all 32 teeth, still holding onto his hand.
"Deal, Miss Y/S"
For a moment, the roar of fans faded away for you, and you only saw the outlines of his pupils in the semi-darkness and his fingers firmly holding yours. However, your fragile moment was promptly ruined by-
"Al, c'mon!" Jamie impatiently called, and your hand felt the gusts of wind instead of calloused skin of the frontman. You watched him walk away in his waddle manner, as he suddenly turned and shouted, winking "By the way, nice lace".
 It took you a couple of seconds to understand what was said, and when the meaning of his words reached you, you exclaimed in indignation "You, motherfucker!" almost stomping your foot, but your cry was lost in the wild roar of the crowd, as the guys were already on stage.
It was a miraculous sight. Four men made people go into ecstasy just with their appearance - this is the phenomenon of the Beatles, and they were proof that rock and roll is alive. As long as they are alive. Every strum on the guitar strings, every touch of the lips to the microphone, every drumstick strike, every hair flip was special in their performance, they themselves were special.
You were fascinated, to say the least. When the performance came to the last song before the encore, Body Paint, one of your favorite songs from the album, that was definitely made to be played live, you were out of words. The whole song built you up to the climax, to the outro that every time was a pure jamming and improvisation. And you literally exploded in ecstasy when Alex started walking around the stage, unable to stand still from the knocking down energy. He closed his eyes in languor, biting his lips, screaming, throwing out his arms, and you couldn't take your eyes off. You weren't dancing or jumping, you were inseparably watching his every movement, arms folded across your chest. Your mouth was agape against your will, and your eyes eagerly punched a hole in the frontman. This is a unique performance, it's something that is hard to explain without feeling it for yourself. You were made up of his music, you literally felt these waves inside your veins, your brain wasn't able to comprehend what was happening, it was like a catharsis for all of you. And you definitely didn't want to be saved.
Suddenly Alex turned his head to your side, continuing to play some divine riff outlining the Van Gogh fields on the guitar strings. His hair was tousled, shirt unbuttoned, but his jacket fitted perfectly. He rested his eyes on your figure, smiling with one corner of his lips, and you looked at each other for good seven seconds which felt like eternity. You were sure that everything was clear in your eyes, and even if he stood next to you and heard you, you wouldn't be able to utter a word.
What you definitely didn't expect when your eye contact was broken and Alex walked to another side of the stage, that tears would involuntarily flow from your eyes. "What the hell..." you wondered aloud, quickly removing the salty tracks from your cheeks. In fact, you perfectly understood why you were crying. From a sense of greatness. The greatness of music, human synergy and the power of unity. It was too much for you, too strong emotions to bear. It was excellent, it was the taste of life, thanks to which you still were here. "God, if you exist, bless this band, they are saints" although it sounded ridiculous and naive, you seriously were ready to pray for the talent of these guys, for the ability to make other people feel alive. You were in your place, you did everything right, you were cruising the victory. Today he convinced you.
As soon as the last chords of "RU Mine?" were played and the bows to the fans were taken, the men disappeared from the deafening roar behind the dark curtains of backstage. Their hair stuck to their sweat faces, and a distinct masculine smell was coming from their shirts. The guys passed by you with exhausted smiles, unable to utter a word from fatigue, and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.
You didn't know what to do right now. According to your understanding, your job didn't end with pre-concert organization, there were also post-concert tasks to be done. But you were so lost in emotions that you felt like you were drifting away from an anaphylactic shock.
Unexpectedly, Tyler came to you as he was the last one to come off the stage. He fraternally put a hand on your shoulder, tousling your hair with his heavy palm.
"Well, with the initiation into our hell, sweetheart. How're you?"
"Thrilled, and I want more!" you declared confidently, matching his quick pace that was pulling you further away from the frenzy of the crowd.
"Well, don't doubt that, it's just the beginning" he charmingly smiled, and you couldn't help but mirror his expression.
"Now we're going to celebrate, and you're coming with us" it sounded so authoritative that even if you wanted to object, you immediately closed your mouth, nodding in agreement. "Besides, seems like you need to unwind" you remembered.
You left the stadium only an hour later, apparently, it was a normal time for the guys to "recover". You'd made several jokes about one woman waiting for seven men and received offended and teasing looks in return. You got into the same Mercedes you arrived in that morning, and the driver took you to one of Bristol's typical English pubs that the guys loved so much.
You didn't understand their fondness for these quaint places where the sofa upholstery hadn't changed along with the owner. There were so many modern bars in the city, any of which the band could afford to rent entirely, but they paid tribute to traditions, obviously cherishing memories of their lively youth when they started playing their first concerts in similar places. Such a return to their roots after the thousands-capacity stadiums grounded them well. And the warm nostalgia, slipping across the Guinness glasses every time, was a corner of genuine joy for the guys, the only true luxury they possessed.
And overall, you didn't care where to spend money or on what. After all today's events, which felt like a whole month, you didn't mind anymore. In the morning, you looked at your apple orchard in the early mist of suburban London, then stood half-naked in a five-star hotel room in front of a world-renowned music star, and now, in the evening, you huddled next to him on an old leather couch under a red velvet chandelier, drinking a B-52.
Glasses, shots and colorful bottles flashed in front of your eyes like a kaleidoscope. Your head was spinning from the amount of alcohol, and your cheeks hurt from laughter.
"My dear mates, I propose a toast to Miss Y/S and her first concert with us! I don't know if she understands where she has ended up, but we'll make sure she has a great time with us, right, guys? To Y/N!" Matt solemnly proclaimed, rising from the table, and 8 hands, pouring drinks onto each other, reached towards the center of the table to clink glasses.
"Guys, thank you for this opportunity, thanks to James for his unplanned vacation, thanks to Steven and Marcus-" although the latter wasn't here, you decided to thank him as he had been providing you with all kinds of help during these weeks, "for their support and adaptation, and of course, to you Monkeys, for accepting me. I do like your crazy Monkey house" you joked, but it didn't negate the truth. Despite all the past disagreements with the lead singer, you felt that you were still doing everything right. And even if you hadn't gone on this adventure today, you would still feel grateful to fate for such an opportunity to be at the center of life.
"Glad to hear that," Jamie chuckled ironically, "as they say, welcome aboard"
And with these words, you all whistled, and Tom even shouted like a saloon girl from the Wild West. Your evening, or rather the night, continued until 3 am, fortunately there was no concert the next day, so you could at least sleep in a bit. You looked in horror at the amount you had drunk, trying to estimate how long it would take to recover the contents of your wallet. But you had consumed so much gin and tonic that the only thing that really worried you was how to walk straight for at least 2 meters to the bar to pay for it all.
"Drinks on me!" you declared with a mischievous smile to the group as you headed towards the bar counter.
"What, for everyone?" Matt playfully refined.
"Well, yeah," you didn't have the energy to realize his surprise, but he also didn't have the energy to argue with you, "that's no problem".
And thus, the following events spun in your head like a foggy whirlpool. Here you were finally breathing in the fresh air of the street, tilting your head towards the purple sky, then you were half-lying on someone's shoulder in the black minivan, and finally for no reason you were walking barefoot on a soft hotel carpet, but there were no shoes in your hands as well.
You didn't have any memories of walking into your room either. But in the moment, the feeling of soft snow-white hotel sheets flooded your body with long-awaited bliss. You instantly fell into the arms of Morpheus, only on the verge of consciousness noticing that someone took off the headband from your hair, which had been squeezing your head tightly, and silently closed the door.
You may be too drunk to remember each of your actions clearly, but you definitely wouldn't mistake the familiar scent of cigarettes in the room.
---------------------------------------------------
A/N: Oh, so much has happened in one chapter, and this is just the beginning of the tour... I decided to tell the background of Y/N for a better understanding of her actions. What do you think, maybe you want more of "Italian friends" in the work? Whose line do you want to read in more detail? Share your emotions, it is incredibly valuable to me that someone reads this work actually!
xo🤍
Taglist: @missbabyjay @rentskenobi @findmeincorneliastreet @indierockgirrl here it is!
*if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to ask me!
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oro-e-diamanti · 5 months
Text
CYOA - Part One
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Masterlist | Taglist
Word count: 980
Warnings: none
A/N: Hope you enjoy the start of this! Get voting and decide how the story will continue!
“This is the worst fucking idea,” you mumble to yourself as your best friend drags you into the main arena, clutching your wrist in unparalleled excitement.
“I did not just hear you say that because this is, in fact, the best fucking idea in the world and when I tell you that you’ll share my opinion in about…” Bella trails off to check the clock on her phone. “... twenty minutes when they’re done playing their first song, I mean it.”
The world around you seems to explode with sound as you realise just how many people are gathered in this place. The arena is filled with excited chatter, some sort of playlist put up to provide somewhat unnecessary background music to get everyone even more hyped, and your head is spinning with the amount of awe-inspiring outfits around you.
Bella did her best to help you out, knowing fully way this isn’t exactly your scene and you barely even heard of the band you’re seeing, but you almost feel like an invisible wallflower next to the mass of short skirts and seethrough tops and harnesses adorning various body parts. Even if the dress and the fishnet tights and the bold lipstick are already a novelty to you.
“Yes! Barrier spot!” Bella chimes, once again pulling you with more strength than necessary.
“Barrier… on the sound desk?”
She holds back on rolling her eyes, just barely. “If you looked closely, you’d see that we’re not here to be excited about the sound desk but about the little stage behind it. We’re way too late to get anywhere towards the front in this crowd, but we’ll be first row for the acoustic set in the middle of the show.”
You nod along, only halfway following what she’s talking about but trusting her anyway. She’s been to a number of Måneskin concerts - and has told you the ins and outs in incredible detail, whether you asked for it or not - and you know she’ll make sure both of you will have a good time.
And you do.
You only recognise about three songs in the whole set, but you soon find it doesn’t matter in the slightest - in fact, a few minutes in you’re sure no one would even think of you as a complete newbie anymore. You dance, you shout along to lyrics you don’t know, you let Bella twirl you around during a slow song.
What at first looks like an annoying spot to stand turns out to be a blessing in disguise. While crew members keep politely asking to be let through as you’re right next to where the barrier opens toward the sound desk, it is also the very way that the singer and guitarist (“Damiano and Thomas!” Bella screams into your ear.) pass as they enter the little secondary stage for their acoustic set. And you’d be damned if you don’t see Damiano send you a wink as he passes you by. Your attempt to catch Thomas’ eye too - just as gorgeous as the singer, simply in a different way - goes undetected as his attention seems to be solely trained on his guitar.
And while you find that a bit of a shame, you can’t deny you enjoy watching him and Damiano up close, if just for those few songs. Maybe you wish you could have seen the other two (“Vic on bass! The one behind the drums is Ethan, it’s so annoying he’s so far back because he’s so fucking pretty!”) quite as intimately.
The evening goes over much too quickly. You don’t even have to admit it, liking it after all, the band, the crowd, the atmosphere, because Bella can see it all over your face.
“Told you!” she squeals. “Told you that you’d love it!”
You simply let her hug you, accepting her overwhelm of emotions, happy to share a moment that is so important to her, even if you’d never quite gotten into… fandom like that. She spins the both of you around a little, just enough for you to spot something on the floor, in front of the barrier, where people are moving away and making their way outside the arena. Bella barely notices you breaking the hug and walking around her to pick it up, already engrossed in her phone.
“Ooh! Brand new information!”
You don’t pay her much attention as you flip over the item in your hand, but she continues.
“According to, uh, my sources, there’s a good chance they might turn up at a certain club later. And with “them” I mean the band. Obviously. And with “a certain club” I mean the club we’re definitely going to be heading to asap. What do you say?”
It’s a pass. An AAA pass - access all areas. A female name on it, no photo. Someone seems to have lost it.
And now you’re in for a decision.
Option A: The pass really isn’t your problem. Someone’s lost it and someone will come find it again. You drop it on the floor and decide to go with Bella’s plan. You’ve had a good night so far, you might as well keep up the energy and go out, right?
Option B: Someone might get in trouble for loosing their pass and it kind of makes you feel bad to have it in your hands and not help out. No one at the sound desk reacts to your attempt to get their attention, so you decide to go up to the front of the room and wave down a security guard to hand it over. He has to take it, doesn’t he?
Option C: As soon as Bella sees the pass in your hand, you can see in her eyes that she wants you to do one thing and one thing only: Make the most of this unlikely opportunity and sneak backstage. What’s the worst that could happen?
Taglist: @wonderlandishell @writingmaneskin @myleftsock @dianachudova @cheese-toastie-11 @Ursulalurks (won't let me tag you, I'm sorry)
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