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filthforfriends · 1 year

Text

Lighthouse

Thomas x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3.6k

TW: This is based on an ask I got over a year ago for a Thomas fic where reader is triggered by people yelling and he calms them down. Mentions of probable domestic abuse and vague implications of childhood abuse, neither necessarily physical.

Canvas bag in your left, Thomas’ hand in your right, the crisp spring air was maddening in that it made your nose cold and absolutely nothing else. Today was the first farmers market this year, more trinkets than produce because very little was ripe. Thomas wore a beanie to avoid being recognized, but got so annoyed with the thing that he took it off before you’d even exited the train. Now it was a bulge in his jacket pocket, taunting you with the possibility of falling onto the stale city street.

It was nice to have these as your day’s worries: skin bitten by the cold breeze, the lack of seasonal vegetables, a lost hat. There’d been a time when you prayed for the mundane, for stupid arguments over socks on the living room floor or the last cup of coffee already drunk. Socks could be washed and more coffee made. The problem with a broken home is that the pieces never quite fit back together. Too sharp.

“Hey.” Thomas shoulder checks you, using your intertwined hands to prevent tripping. He’s gotten good at spotting when your thoughts start circling the drain.

“Hey, sorry,” you huff, remembering to breathe.

“Don't apologize.” He kisses the top of your head, dramatically swinging your arms as a distraction. Because of the foot in height difference he’s jerking you around a bit. It’s annoying and very effective at getting you mentally unstuck.

“Okay, okay.” You smile, and instead of calling that a victory, Thomas starts walking backwards, tugging some more.

“I’m gonna trip and die or you’re gonna trip and die.”

“Such a pessimist,” he complains, with a theatrical eye roll. Tommy stops walking and you run into him, but it's purposeful. He’s ready for the forward momentum and drops your hand to wrap you in a hug.

“It's inconvenient, how good you’ve become at reading my facial expressions,” you mumble into his jacket, zipper pressing into your cheek.

“And you can tell when I’m hungry when I can’t tell that I’m hungry.”

“Mind reading is a cooler super power than being a hunger meter.”

“Mm mm, I disagree.” He loosens his arms so you can pull back and see each other.

“You’d look damn good in a cape though.” Tommy has this special smile that's exclusive to your compliments. He doesn’t worry that the adorable soft spot under his chin turns into a roll. His nose scrunches, revealing the minor asymmetries of his perfect mouth. Thomas had a tooth pulled on the right side at age 11, so only the left side is slightly crowded. In moments of intense passion you liked to lick where his canine overlapped with the tooth behind it. He never quite understood that.

“Well, I can’t argue with facts,” he shrugs, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the station.

“Maybe they’ll have a cape vendor next week!” From then on, things are light hearted, because he's so good at that. The train is mostly empty, which somehow makes the plastic seating marginally less uncomfortable. Thomas takes a piece of gum out of your purse, laughing at the collection of accidently stolen pens bearing the insignia of various offices. Before he can crumple the wrapper, you take it and the Central Manhattan Dentistry pen to make a sketch of Thomas. He strikes a philosophical pose and you use your knee cap as a table for seven stops.

“You need to pick a pose you can hold.”

“I can hold this,” he insists, chin in the deep between his thumb and pointer finger. He starts regretting it at stop two, but doesn’t admit defeat until stop five. Of course the drawing is horrible, but efforts to throw it away are met with progressively more zealous insistence from Thomas that the piece be displayed in custom framing. Through all the squabbling, the wrapper gets torn accidentally. Automatically, you brace for the fallout.

“Aww! You’ll have to draw me another one next week,” he laughs, rubbing your arm affectionately, lips to temple. It was his Everything Is Okay kiss, his You Didn’t Mess Up At All kiss, his I’m Not Mad At You Baby kiss, his I’m Never Gonna Yell kiss.

“You know, I was thinking we should finish the ciabatta loaf today, before it goes stale. Your mint plant has been looking really good. I read this new technique where you turn the pot a quarter every week so the sun…” The gum wrapper flutters to the floor as you stand to get off, all of it forgotten.

Three blocks away from your second home and you realize it's gonna be one of those days. One of those days where your mind and the world collaborate to make you dust off every single coping mechanism in your repertoire. On the opposite side of the street a group of five wearing NYU swag are captivated by the epic row between similarly aged romantic partners. A man and a woman screaming with both windows open.

“Who the fuck doesn’t have the decency to close their windows?” This question is promptly answered, as the woman launches a speaker out of the second story window. Thomas stops to watch with his mouth agape, enthralled. On the other side of the street, you may be safe from shrapnel, but those college kids are taking chances with their proximity. What if one of them got hurt? Who would take them to the hospital? Which hospital? Would you have to call 911? Would they get mad at you for calling 911? What if the disbatcher fucks up and the ambulence never comes?

“You fucking bitch, this is the kind of shit that makes me want to wring your neck!”

“Oh yeah, threaten me, baby,” she replies with heavy sarcasm, bending over to push something towards the window. The man lunges in her direction. He’s going to slap her. He’s just picking something up. It's a toaster. He’s gonna bludgeon her with the toaster. No he’s throwing it out the window. This one lands on a car and the alarm begins blaring.

“Holy shit, this is like reality TV in real life,” Thomas chuckles.

“I don’t want to threaten you! I don’t want to be that guy! But you make me into that guy!” You make me.

“I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU,” she screams, hysterically trying to convince herself of this fact. She was terrified and sent a second speaker out the window. This one lands differently. Instead of a thud, you can hear it break into pieces as soon as it hits the cement. She has to get out of there. They’re both wasted, but she's belligerent and slurring.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me, you crazy bitch! I deserve respect, as the man of the house!” he bellows. You shudder violently, because that sentence is way too familiar.

“I already called the police so shut the fuck up!” screams someone from the unit directly behind you. This time you startle so severely that your feet leave the ground for a moment. The man throws the microwave out of the window and the glass tray inside breaks. The sound of glass breaking always made you nauseous, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink.

“Yeah? And what the fuck do you think the police are going to do!? Fucking NOTHING.” Her voice is guttural, rubbed raw and trashed. You can taste the copper in your mouth, just like you know she can. Blood diluted by spit from screaming.

“Get out. Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT,” she wails, nearly falling over as she points to the window.

“This is my apartment. I pay for ALL of this shit!” There's that male rage again, its only purpose is to create subservience out of fear. Compliance from children who just want the sound to stop, whose insides get twisted up everytime their caretaker uses fear as a means to an end and then calls that love. Children who grow up damaged because they were taught that the world is scary and ruthless and unfeeling.

If you hadn’t been in the midst of a flashback, your reflexes would have been better. Plates, glasses, mugs, the sounds of these breaking were your biggest triggers, the thing you just couldn’t defeat. When the woman pours a half-packed cardboard box out of the window, you can’t get your hands over your ears fast enough. It’s all kitchenware and at least half a dozen plates have shattered on the pavement by the time you’ve muffled the sound.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. No! No, no! STOP!” Someone was screaming, but not the woman in the second story apartment. It was your mother’s voice, or maybe your sister’s. They didn’t even live in this state, what the hell were they doing here? You can feel yourself being shaken, and only then realize that you’re in the dark.

“Y/n? Y/n? Y/n, amour, amour, tell me what's happening. Tesorina, do you need me to – should I, um, do I call…I don't know. I don’t know how to help. I should and I don’t. Fuck.” Finally you’re aware that the voice is speaking to you directly and open your eyes. Tommy is alarmed, bordering on panic. Finally the connection is made: you were the one screaming. Seeing his face brings the present into focus. He’s sitting on the ground which is why you’re crouched over. Or rather the cause and effect is the other way around.

One artichoke is on top of the storm drain, canvas bag crumpled beside you. The blown glass guitar Thomas had purchased and entrusted you to carry is shattered beyond repair. That metaphor and the public embarrassment, is what finally brings you to tears.

“I br – bro – oke it. ‘M s – sorry.” Thomas looks absolutely mystified until he follows your line of sight. Hands still clamped over your ears, it sounds like you’re speaking underwater.

“Oh my god, tesorina, I don’t care. What can I do?”

“Home,” you squeak, vision blurred.

“Of course.” Thomas takes the bag and letting him pull it from your arm means briefly uncovering your ear. The couple are now whisper-yelling, sparing glances in your direction. Bucklist item achieved: screaming at someone to stop shouting and they actually stop shouting. The first step forward, a piece of the broken guitar shatters under your boot.

“I ruined it,” you manage to blurt, before giving into a gasping sob.

“It doesn’t matter, tesorina.” Little treasure. Thomas reaches out and you snatch your hand away without thinking. Betrayal. He hides it at an impressive speed, but it's there.

“I’m s –ss – sorry. Ruined it,” you sob. “I – everything, I ju –just –”

“It’s a piece of glass,” he whispers. “I love you and it's just a piece of glass. It’s a thing, y/n.” Slowly, you reach forward, and Tommy meticulously laces his fingers with yours, one at a time. When your hands are clasped his thumb brushes back and forth, soothing.

You never look up from the stained pavement, not once, even during a busy intersection. You can’t tell if you’re crying because you can’t feel your face. No words are spoken, but Thomas’ anxiety radiates from every pore. You stumble behind him, led by the hand, stomach in your throat as you free fall into a storming chasm of childhood memories. On the fourth stair you trip and land on all fours, so Thomas leads you to the elevator instead.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Y/n?” You stare at the upholstered wall. Chocolate brown with tan line work weaving in and out of itself. You count every time the lines cross. At 36 something touches your back. You wrench away from it and whip around. Thomas is holding the elevator open with one hand because this is his floor. The other hand had tried to gently guide you.

The heavy front door slams shut. That sound hasn’t made you jump for months, but today it prompts a sharp inhale that has you choking on your own spit.

“Tesorina, are you okay? Are you okay?” The carpet had been freshly cleaned, but the cigarette mark burned into the cream-colored fibers remained. Vision blurring out of focus, you remind yourself that these feelings are from a past life. You no longer inhabit a space where they’re true. Movement in your peripheral makes you blink hard to clear the tears from your eyes. It’s Thomas, crawling across the floor. He kneels at your feet to meet your downturned eyes. He waits.

He weeps. Tries not to, but ends up having to wipe his eyes roughly. Tommy is visibly sickened by the magnitude of his empathy. He feels what you feel, and knowing how unbearable that is, you reach a hand out to cup his face. He places his hand over yours, brings it to his lips. Tommy kisses every finger tip, every knuckle, then palm, wrist, forearm. At seven years old, you’d watched your mother get “Corinthians 1:13” tattooed in the same place after an AA meeting. She repeated that verse to you like building a shield. Looking into your boyfriend’s face now, you understand that it was never about religion.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

You collapse into his arms and he catches you. Instead of letting you hide against his neck, Tommy presses his forehead to yours.

“Nothing bad is going to happen if you look at me,” he whispers. The habit was totally subconscious and you met his gaze.

“Hey, here,” he hands you a paper towel. Gracelessly, you blow your nose. The velcro on the sleeve of your jacket scratches so you take that off. Usually Tommy would help, but he’d taken his hands away as soon as you were stable and was sitting on them. For some reason that makes you cry again. At first it’s a couple tears and then you burst into ugly sobs, hands hiding your face.

“Y/n can you nod yes or no?” You nod and Thomas lets out a long sigh. “Do you understand that I’m not mad at all?” Nod. Deep breath. Shaky exhale. Sob.

“Repeat,” you croak.

“Okay. I’m not mad at you about anything, past, present, or future. There is no anger in my body.”

“Annoyed?” You take a shuddering breath to calm down, able to stop the tears.

“I am not annoyed at all either. No negative emotions directed at you.” You nod and peak through your fingers. Tommy's eyes are so damn earnest.

“No negative emotions directed at you,” he repeats. “I’m not gonna slam the door.” You nod, fighting the wave of suffocating anxiety from the mere suggestion. “I’m not going to break something or yell.” Back to sobbing, and now you’re choking on your own hair. “Shit, I’m sorry.” It was too close to home, but hearing the words would make breathing easier if not for the tears.

“Hug me,” you manage. Thomas slowly wraps you in a loose embrace. He’s leaning way forward, so your torsos aren’t touching. You climb onto his lap and squeeze, demonstrating what kind of hug you want. He sighs in relief and properly holds you.

“Can I rub your back?” Nod. His right hand runs up and down, applying light pressure. Seated sideways, you lean your head on his shoulder; hiccups, but no waterworks. Tommy’s Adam's Apple bobs when he swallows hard. He nicked himself shaving this morning.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. This is my fault.” Just from his voice, you can hear that Tommy is also trying not to cry. “I know your history, but I just stood there and like, watched the worst trigger imaginable.”

“It's not your fault.”

“I should have gotten you away from there as quickly as possible, not stood to watch like a…” the self-disgust in his voice is palpable. “Piece of shit.”

“Thomas!”

“I’m not saying it was my fault, but I could have prevented it.” He lets out an uneasy, heavy sigh. This was way too much to navigate right now. Disagreeing would cause conflict and conflict would cause –

“Woah, breathe, baby, breathe.” Tommy rocks back and forth. “You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m just really sorry.” You scoff.

“I had a full fledged meltdown in front of everyone. Then I broke the sculpture.”

“I swear to god, if you mention that sculpture one more time.” Even with his voice void of malice, the blood in your veins turns to ice water. “I don’t care about the sculpture, I care about – Wait, no, no, no, that's not how I meant to phrase that at all. I care about you, not the glass thing, that doesn’t matter. God damn it Tom,” he groans, head tilted back. “Please breathe, amour,” he pleads as you shiver.

“You lied. You are mad.” You get up. With tightly balled into fists, you walk to the sink. Rinsing your face doesn’t help and how he’s seen your hands shaking. You grip the counter and scrunch your eyes closed. How much anger had he buried and when was the reckoning? Would there be any warning? You couldn’t live your life bracing for it.

“Thomas, just get it over with.” You set your jaw, determined to stop the tears for good.

“Get over what?” he asks, standing up.

“Just fight with me now.”

“I just don't want to fight with you.”

“Just yell at me now and get it over with!” What was meant to be stern comes out as a scream, the same kind of scream the woman three blocks up used. Somehow the sound was still bottled up inside you, all these years later.

“Mia vita, I am not going to yell at you. I have never yelled at you.” You roll your eyes at his idealism, that hardened exterior that kept you alive going up.

“In every relationship people yell at eachother. Eventually you were going to yell at me. So just do it now.”

“Over a piece of glass? C’mon, we know this isn’t really about that. ”

“I’m. Not. Crazy.”

“Of course not.” He’s wide eyed and vulnerable, no defensiveness. “I didn’t mean to imply that, but maybe I did and I’m really, really sorry.” Taken aback, you wait for the rest of it.

“I know what anger sounds like, Thomas.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have watched my words and compartmentalized.” His tone of voice remains soft, regardless of your escalation. Again, you wait.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t do this,” you snap. It feels like your heart is being squeezed in your father’s fist. Thomas is taken aback.

“Amour, I don’t understand,” he chokes, suddenly desperate.

“You wouldn’t make me wait and wonder when it's gonna happen, live in fear of when you’re going to snap!” The words fall to the floor with the same weight as stereo speakers out of a second story window. They just lay there on the kitchen tile, ugly and mangled. You’d like to clean them up before the grout is stained red, but don’t have the right supplies. Now you’ll have to get a carpet to hide the stains, or fabricate a perfectly anecdotal lie for house guests, or remodel the kitchen.

Thomas pulls a bar stool out from under the island, carrying it so the legs don’t scuff against the floor. He sits down gingerly.

“Will you come here, please?” Deciding that Thomas isn’t the type to set traps, you walk over. Standing between his parted legs, you’re the same height.

“Look at me,” he murmurs. You meet his eyes and find no aggression, just his gentle demeanor. Tommy extends a hand, asking you to take it. He puts your palm against his heart and that iron clad exterior falls away.

“I am upset with the situation, not you. I am upset at those people who made their relationship the whole neighborhood’s problem. I’m upset at myself for handling it poorly. I’m upset that none of the adults in your childhood acted like adults and now you have to suffer. I am not upset with you. I do not care about a piece of glass. I do not care if the whole neighborhood thinks I’m dating a crazy person. You are my crazy person and I love you.” What a relief it is to believe him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry ��”

“No.”

“No?”

“You don’t get to apologize about this.”

“But in the elevator I –”

“Nope.”

“The artichoke.”

“Errr,” Tommy makes a sound like a game show buzzer.

“I had a full mental breakdown in public.”

“And?”

“I’m sorr–” He interrupts by loudly shushing you. “The snot!”

“Approval pending.”

“Okay, but for real, I’m sorry for screaming at you. I don’t know where that came from. Well, actually I do. I just didn’t know that it was so close to the surface.”

“Apology accepted,” he hums, wrapping an arm around your waist. You startle and Thomas begins to pull away, but you stop him.

“I’m going to be jumpy for a while, but that doesn’t mean don’t touch me.”

“I hate that you’re scared of me,” he whispers.

“I’m not scared of you. It's a memory.” As soon as your hands touch his face, Tommy’s eyelids close with heaviness. He’s not expecting the kiss. The skin of your lips sticks together, tacky from tears and saliva.

“You are my lighthouse.”

Notes: Well wasn't that some nice light reading! I am an attention whore so feel free to give me feedback.

-XOXO Eden

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@bieberhoodforever @blackberryblossom @butkutee @cuzimitaliano @elvirabelle @iamtashaquinn @icarodamiano @idyllicbutterfly @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @gr8rainbowpunk @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @mortyandem @the-chaotic-cow @ursulalurks* @wasteddoubts @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia @slavicgoddess13 @that-one-ma-blog* @hiraetheral @iosonoarina @l0standn0tf0und @que--sera--sera @stardustingold @teenyweenynightghost @l0standn0tf0und @harryssshouseee

#maneskin #måneskin #thomas raggi #må #thomas raggi x y/n #thomas raggi blurb #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi x you #thomas raggi fanfiction #thomas raggi headcanon #maneskin thomas #thomas maneskin #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin x reader #maneskin imagine #måneskin x reader

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ghostcookieturner · 2 years

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Hi,can you make a headcanon with må with you being a successful model ?

Thank you ,i love your work

ahhh! une demande… merci!!!! i made it more of a “members of må x supermodel!gn!reader” if that makes sense.

word count:<1000

tw: cursing, grammatical errors

——————

Damiano David

always, ALWAYS made it to your most important runways

you were always very critical of how you dressed due to the industry, but damiano made you feel comfortable as fuck in what ever you wore.

sweatpants. lingerie. you get the jist

would never have a thought that you looked bad in what you wore

as his wardrobe was equally as crazy

definitely went to shoots with you

definitely promoted you

ngl it took all my brain power to figure out some of this😭😭

bare with me

whenever he bought you something he liked watching you model walk to show it off

Victoria De Angelis

here me out

wanted to be a model as well but her path took a turn

then found you

boom!!!! love at first sight

bought you a shit ton of clothes because she adored your model walk

“babe, i don’t have any storage left in my closet”

“you can keep some of it in my side of the closet don’t worry”

went to your most important shoots, like damiano does

went to almost all your runway models

would rewatch videos of your modeling

Thomas Raggi

don’t judge me on this one it took me a minute

definitely was more into designing the looks than wearing them as a child so meeting you was instant click

sewing and designing was one of his more hidden talents so he definitely created some dope shit for you

learned how to do the “model walk”

“babe, i made you a blazer! try it on!”

will go out of his damn way to fix any pieces that don’t fit

on very short notice too

his favorite thing to do was design clothes specifically for you

definitely made you feel like royalty in whatever you wore

OH and loved seeing you model swimmers eheh

Ethan Torchio

LORDDDD HAVE I BEEN READY FOR THIS

will get matching everything.

you know that matching underwear set that is advertised on snapchat?

….matching everything….

goes to all of your shoots; important or not

spoils you. excessively

almost everything in your closet is from ethan

mainly because he wants you to be branded as his, not branded as gucci or victorias secrets.

promotes you everywhere

“MY world famous supermodel”

made you feel like you were on top of the word

——————

aaaand that’s pretty much it. sorry if it’s not up to par. gifs not mine. PRETTY PRETTY PLEASEEE KEEP REQUESTING!!!! IM BEGGIN (pun intended😉)!!!!

Si vous souhaitez une traduction de cet article, envoyez-moi un message !

#damiano david #ethan torchio #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #maneskin #vic de angelis #damiano david x reader #ethan torchio x reader #thomas raggi x reader #victoria de angelis x reader #maneskin headcanons #maneskin x reader

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reputationdamiano · 2 years

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Hi babee. So i saw your headcanon request are open and here i am lol.

Imagine them as a grandparents. To be honest it isn't seem like as in my ımagine when i write it here but it doesn't have matter. We're going to be old anyway.

Have a nice day/night 🥰❤️🥰🥰❤️❤️🥰🥰

måneskin as grandparents headcanons

word count: 243

warnings: none

a/n: hi, sorry for replying almost a year after this request was sent. i wasn’t feeling particularly creative but i hope you enjoy!

damiano:

i imagine him storytelling a lot, all about måneskin’s adventures and showing videos of their performances, generally reminiscing the past

that sporty kind of grandfather who teaches children how to ride a bike or who plays basketball with them!

damiano would try to make his grandkids laugh as much as possible with his cheesy jokes

he would definitely make them chamomile tea before bed

ethan:

i think he’d spoil the kids by letting them do everything they want to, including things their parents wouldn't let them do

ethan would definitely teach them the basics of playing drums

he would be a shoulder to cry on, always comforting his grandkids whenever they feel unhappy

ethan would read bedtime stories while putting the children to sleep

thomas:

picture him being so proud when he shows his little signature dance to his grandkids

thomas would keep up with the trends whatever they would be in the year 2065, definitely a modern and cool grandad!

the guitarist of the band would play cards or board games with his grandkids

i think thomas would encourage the kids to start a band on their own!

victoria:

i imagine vic going outside with the kids and painting nature

she would know about everything happening in her grandchildren’s life and would give the best advice

vic would bake all kinds of delicious pastries for her grandchildren

our style icon would obviously help the kids make the best fashion choices

taglist: @ethanesimp @kirstansworld @bidet-and-legolas @gretavanfleetlove @otaculo @bieberhoodforever @kyliesalvatore @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @hopelessromantic727 @ilwiwbysmv @lovelymaneskindays @grzybowysyn @butkutee @livcwildcndfrcc @que--sera--sera @torchiosfries @inloveppp

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awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands · 7 months

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Halloween Headcanons 2023: Mutant!Maneskin Au: Thomas Raggi as Nightcrawler

A/N: This is heavly inspired by the X-men saga with some of my original twists, so it will both be very similar but also different from the Marvel version. Click here to check out the other mooboards: Victoria, Damiano, Ethan.

-Thomas is raised by his aunt Manila in Rome. His parents abandoned him at birth after discovering he was a mutant due his blue spots, which will make his life among humans very difficult.

- One day the ringmaster of the circus where Manila worked decided to hurt her in her tent, while Thomas was hidden under the bed. He decides to come out and takes his aunt’s hand. For a split second he thinks about the woods not far from the circus and by magic they both end up there.

-He seems quite stunned but not too hurt, while his aunt warns him to use his power only if necessary. They change cities and find a new circus to work at.

- His powers are: Ability to teleport himself and within limits a certain amount of additional mass which is in contact with him. (Teleportation), however he typically teleports only to places he has been to before or knows, to avoid any injury caused by an unknown solid object. His teleportation is accompanied by a *BAMF* sound and a cloud of smoke.

- Thomas wants to work at the circus with his aunt, to help her with the money, but she accepts only on the condition that he continues his education.

- He gets bullied because everyone thinks he is a freak or a monster. He tells everybody his blue spots are a rare skin condition but some people still suspect he might be a mutant. Over the years, he learns to conceal his spots but not always successfully.

- Thomas has tremendous natural agility which makes him an acrobat. The circus audiences don't suspect he is a mutant and just assume that his blue skin is makeup.

- During his teenage years, a big crowd of protesters storm into the circus and interrupt the evening show. Their leader, a man called Matteo, accuses all of them of being filthy mutants and to hide between them to slowly kill all the humans.

- The confrontation turns into a brawl and the protestors set the circus on fire. Thomas tries to save Manila but the police are too close.

- “ You have to go, piccolo. But we will see each other again, I promise you.”

- Thomas starts to live on the streets, scouting for several jobs and hopping from shelter to churches. He manages to find good people but also lots of bad ones, especially once his blue spots or his history comes to surface.

- Even under lots of stress, his power still seems to fully be under his control, however Thomas discovers that the longer is the distance over which he teleports himself, the harder and more exhausting it is for him to make the teleportation "jump".

- While sleeping in a church, he gets approached by Ethan who promises him a safe place in a school for mutants. He is hesitant at first but Ethan’s gentle manners and the fact he didn’t attack him make Thomas accept his offer.

- During his first meeting with the principal, he tells him his story and asks for news about his aunt, without any results.

-” By the way, you don’t have to hide your skin here. I can assure you, you’re not the first blue mutant your classmates have seen.”

- Damiano proves to be just like Ethan described him but he is also incredibly protective and supportive of him, while teasing him all the time. Thomas confesses to him that he always wanted to play guitar but has never been consistent due lack of money and a house.

- A week later both Ethan and Damiano show up with a wrapped guitar for Thomas.

- “ Well we need a guitarist for our band, Puffo!” “Dam, c’mon don’t call him that.” “ Nah, he knows I’m kidding, Popsicle.”

- Thomas seems to be the main attraction of the younger students, he is used to having all eyes on him since his circus days but the kids are nothing but respectful towards him.

- He works on building his endurance to be able to teleport further without draining himself too much, in the hopes of finally finding his aunt again one day.

- During the holidays, he and Ethan receive a text from Damiano to meet him at an unknown address. After a while they get there, Damiano arrives with a confused Victoria and a key for the garage behind them.

- “ Hello raga, you already know Vic but you don’t know that she’ll be our bassist. Let’s practice, I’ve set up all the instruments here.”

#thomas raggi #maneskin #rock band #moodboard #halloween #halloween challenge #mutant!au #x-men!au #nightcrawler #my moodboards

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1-800-simping · 2 years

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Changbin

Felix

Han

I.N

Midnight Movies

genre: fluff. pairing: x reader. word count: 877

Hyunjin

Minho

Self-Care Day

genre: fluff. pairing: x reader. word count: 1,091

Seungmin

Till There Was You

genre: fluff. pairing: x reader. word count: 1,170

Tomorrow x Together

txt as sharks pt. 1

txt as sharks pt. 2

txt shopping with their s/o

your couple pics with txt

Yeonjun

Soobin

Beomgyu

Taehyun

Kai

Enhypen

bf!enha: when you come out as bi (hyung line)

texts with enhypen (hyung line)

Heeseung

Jay

channel orange

Jake

happy holidays

Sunghoon

Sunoo

Jungwon

Niki

The Beatles

George Harrison

John Lennon

Paul McCartney

Ringo Starr

Led Zeppelin

Led Zeppelin Dating Headcanons

Jimmy Page

Not Quite:

genres: fluff, comfort. pairing: x reader. word count: 547

Forget You Exist

genre: angst. pairing: x reader. word count: 544

Robert Plant

John Paul Jones

John Bonham

Måneskin

Måneskin reacting to their s/o making them breakfast in bed

your couple pics with måneskin

Damiano David

Ethan Torchio

Thomas Raggi

Victoria De Angelis

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l0standn0tf0und-fics · 2 years

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜

you`re gorgeous, my guitar boy

I missed you so fucking much

what does heaven look like?

dating the best guitar boy aka thomas raggi headcanons

the untitled one, until marlena comes to the author and helps to come up with a title

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maneskinbot · 3 years

Photo

thomas raggi is THE boyfriend material

#thomas raggi #maneskin #thomas raggi icons #i wanna be his gf #or slave i guess #maneskin icons #maneskin headers #thomas raggi headers #victoria de angelis #damiano david #ethan torchio #maneskin headcanons #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi headcanons #maneskin x reader #boyfriend material

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little-moonbeam-666 · 2 years

Note

Your writing is so perfect and hot! Not sure if you're taking requests but if so, do you think you could write how the members of Maneskin would react/be if their partner was a squirter? No pressure if it's just not your jam. Some people are weirded out about that and I understand.

YES! I love this request more than life itself holy shit. Let's jump right into it, shall we?

Victoria

You arched your back and moaned loudly as she added a second finger to the mix, letting the tips of her fingers rub repeatedly against the spongy soft spot inside you. She curled her fingers just slightly, making you whine and your eyes roll back.

“Oh sweetheart, you look so pretty when you’re desperate.” she purred, curling her fingers a little further. You yelped at the new sensation.

“Mmmm, Vic! Please, baby!” you whined, desperate for whatever friction she was willing to give you.

She continued to abuse your sensitive spot, your vision beginning to black out and your legs starting to shake uncontrollably. You whimpered and whined, having lost the ability to form words. She inserted a third finger, the stretch making your heart pound and your clit throb. Her thumb immediately moved to rub frantic circles over your clit.

The heat was building and an unknown sensation began to take over. Your vision went white and the heat in your belly exploded, a scream forcing its way from your throat.

“That’s it, cucciola. Cum for me, sweet girl.” She encouraged, moving her fingers faster and helping you through your orgasm.

When you finally came back to your senses, your eyes fluttered open to see Vic staring down at you in wonder. Her beautiful blue eyes were wide and her jaw was slack. You gave her a confused look, unsure of why she was staring at you. It’s not like she’d never seen you cum before. Then you felt it. The sheets beneath your ass were clinging to your skin and the inside of your thighs were completely soaked.

“Holy fuck, Vic, did I… did I just squirt?” you asked in disbelief. A huge grin slowly spread across her face as she nodded her head.

“Yeah, baby girl, you did.” She said, crawling up your body to hover over you. She brought her fingers that were previously inside you to her mouth, sucking them clean of the excessive amount of fluid. “Do you think you can do it again?”

Ethan

You and Ethan had always been very open, especially in the sexual aspect of your relationship. If either of you ever wanted to try something new or were just curious about something, it got talked about, no problem! That’s how you ended up in your current position… face down, ass up with Ethan pounding you and holding a vibrator directly on your clit.

Your legs were shaking with the intensity of the vibrations on your sensitive clit and Ethan’s dick repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your walls were fluttering wildly around his cock, making him groan.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. I know you can do it, baby girl.”

You shook your head, not convinced that you’d be able to do it. But Ethan didn’t stop. You hadn’t used your safeword and he took that as permission to continue. He just pressed the vibrator harder against your clit and slowly moved it back and forth.

“E-Ethan, I… I can’t!” you whined, trying to look back over your shoulder at him but failing miserably, your head falling forward with the intense pleasure.

“You can and you will!” he grunted, picking up the pace and slamming into you even harder than before. You knew you would be sore tomorrow but you didn’t care.

You could feel the knot growing tighter and tighter in your belly, the heat spreading throughout your body and settling between your thighs. You had broken out in a sweat and couldn’t catch your breath… Ethan wouldn’t let up enough to let you. Your heart was racing so fast you could no longer feel the separate beats.

Ethan began moving to the vibrator in tight circles against your throbbing clit as he continued to fuck the life out of you. Your eyes began to roll and your thighs shook, an unknown feeling taking over. A hoarse scream tore itself from your throat as your walls contracted around Ethan’s cock and you came hard. You could feel a gush of hot liquid run down your thighs.

Your vision had blacked out and you wondered just how long you’d been laying there, panting and out of breath. When your eyes fluttered back open, Ethan was now lying on the bed next to you, giving you a shit eating grin. You didn’t need to ask to know exactly what it was about. You could feel the sopping wet sheets sticking to your heated skin and your inner thighs felt sticky, now soaked with your release. Then Ethan spoke up, rather smugly, a smirk on his face.

“I told you.”

Thomas

You braced your hands on the back of the couch behind his shoulders as you continued to rock your hips against his, enjoying the feeling of his coarse pubic hair rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your breasts bounced enticingly as you moved, capturing his attention as you bounced on his lap.

“Mmmm, micetta. You’re so fucking pretty and your tight little cunt feels so fucking good stretched around my cock!” he moaned, reaching his hands up to play with your nipples, rolling them harshly between his fingers. The new sensation caused white spots to flicker in your vision.

“Oh fuck, do that again!” you moaned, tossing your head back and digging your fingers into the soft cushion.

“You like that, baby?” he moaned, pinching your nipples again.

“Mhmm, oh fuck, Thomas!” you whimpered, bringing both of your hands up to tangle in his long hair, holding him closer as you continued to fuck yourself on his cock.

The pool of heat in your belly got hotter and hotter, bubbling up inside you as you continued to use Thomas for your own pleasure. Your hips worked faster as you chased your high, desperate to cum. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer but you needed a little extra stimulation. Thomas seemed to sense that too, reaching his hand between your bodies and rubbing your clit with a featherlight touch. The sudden urge to pee came over you, but you knew that you didn’t have to go. It wouldn’t have come on so suddenly like this.

Then the molten heat finally exploded, your legs quivering and white blinding your vision. You collapsed in his arms and you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, his hands running softly up and down your bare back while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, bringing you back down from your earth shattering high.

After a few minutes you were finally able to breathe somewhat normally again and you lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him. He seemed a little bashful, but he glanced down between the two of you and looked back up at your face, giving you a shy smile. Your eyes followed his gaze and then you realized that his legs and lower stomach, along with your own, were completely soaked. Holy fuck! Had you just….? You were about to apologize, having never done that before, but he was quick to stop you.

“Y/N, micetta, that was the hottest thing ever!” he said, leaning forward and capturing your lips with his. Then he whispered seductively against your lips. “Do you think you could do it again on my tongue?”

Damiano

You moaned, tossing your head back against the plush pillow as Damiano continued to eat you out like you were the air he needed to breathe. His tongue was shoved deep and his nose continually nudged at your aching clit. He knew it was driving you insane so he moved his face as much as possible.

His tongue left your hole only momentarily to flick at your clit, making you arch your back, only to be held down by Damiano’s hands that were wrapped around your thighs. You whined at the lack of movement, but Dami just smirked and went back to lapping at your juices that freely flowed out of you.

“Dami, please! I can’t… not again!” you half moaned, half yelled. He’d already made you cum twice tonight on his cock and now he was trying to get a third out of you.

“Mmmm yes you can.” he purred against your pussy.

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. But you hadn’t safeworded, so Dami wasn’t going to stop. He doubled his efforts, licking and sucking, eventually adding two fingers. He scissored his fingers as he sucked relentlessly on your clit, letting his teeth graze against it. It caused a weird sensation in the pit of your stomach. It almost felt like you had to pee but you ignored the feeling, only focusing on your need to cum.

It took you a few tries but you finally managed to fully relax your body and let your senses take over. As soon as you did, the dam broke and you wailed loudly, the sounds echoing off your bedroom walls. Your legs shook uncontrollably and you could feel your clit twitching with every tremor that wracked your body. Damiano continued eating you out like a starved man until the shaking of your body had subsided.

You hadn’t even noticed that he’d pulled away from your dripping cunt and was now sat back on his knees, smiling at you. When your eyes fluttered open to see him, you were stunned. The lower half of his face and his neck were absolutely covered in clear liquid, the droplets dripping down his chest.

“Tesoro, do you know what you just did?” he asked, grinning at you. You slowly shook your head, not understanding. “Baby girl, you just squirted.”

You could feel your face heat up in embarrassment, never having squirted before, but he quickly shut that down.

“No no no, sweetheart. This is nothing to be embarrassed about. That was so fucking hot, sweetie. Now listen,” he said, crawling his way back up your body until he was hovering over you, grinning like a mad man. “I was planning on letting you sleep after this orgasm, but now that I know you can do that, you won’t be sleeping tonight.”

@filthforfriends @maneskings

#maneskin #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #ethan torchio #damiano david #smut #smutty #ask #ask me #headcanon #maneskin imagine #imagine #maneskin headcanons #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #damiano david smut #thomas raggi smut #ethan torchio smut #victoria de angelis smut

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boizandgurlzinthehouse · 3 years

Text

𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

a/n: 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒!! sowwy for taking a break for this long, i have tons of requests again jfjks... but now, i'm gonna write them, with this as a 'warming-up'. really sorry, i had to do this 😔✊🏻

𝐯𝐢𝐜

the first time she realizes that you don't just talk about sleeping on little clothes is on the first night spent together –she double-checks when you fall in between the sheets beside her, only wearing a satin-silk underwear.

"baby, what are you doing?" she asked, staring down at your bare shoulders, as you dug your face into the pillows.

"i don't know, maybe getting into bed? what does it seems like?" you asked, grinning slightly in yourself. the only thing why vic was mesmerized about you, not just your body, the tenderness of your curves, the smooth skin on your thighs –or the fullness of your breasts. she was relieved that you don't stress yourself around her, that you dare to be the sweet and perfect person your are, and you don't want to separate yourself from her. she had a lot of insecurities when the two of you began to date, vic had those stupid thoughts that maybe you don't think that this is a big deal –or that you don't think this as serious as her.

but as she stared down at you, you rolled onto your sides, the blanket almost revealing the top of your breasts, smiling at her with those soft eyes that you always had when the two of you made out –victoria just knew that she has a spot beside you.

"fuck, how can i resist you?" she asked as she lift her arms up to take off her t-shirt, and she didn't stop at this –the bra almos fell on your face, you swapped off with your free arm. "stop staring, i can be really shy!" she giggled, you nudged her with your feet, inviting her to lay as close to you as she could.

"sorry, you're just too irresistible." you whispered.

"you too. now kiss me", victoria answered, as she pulled the cover from under your chest to drag it on the top of the two of you, threading her fingers through your hair to spend a hot, needy night with you.

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

he blinked a couple times when the first rays of the sunshine hit the edge of the bed. smoething laid on him tenderly, he stared down at the crown of your hair, kissing it slowly as he got more conscious.

thomas didn't want to wake you up, but when he tried to shimmy himself out a little for his phone –he adored your petite body above his–, the felt that something's not the usual.

hmmm

*thinking, squinting thomas face*

so cute!! T-T

lifting up the blanket, your smooth skin was all right, excluding a little, tiny, minuscule detail...

you breasts stroked his chest and stomach like velvet.

he nearly gasped as he realized what he's feeling, and what that he's feeling (i hope you get the difference ;-;), and after that, thomas adored every moment as you slept.

my beautiful girl, sleeping soundly and feeling so safe in my arms, he thought, that she even lets down her guards and underwear around me –*lovely sighing every five minute*

stroking your hair and skin, he bents his legs, and you react to this one

thomas hesitates, he doesn't wants you to get up, doesn't want to wake you up, but what comes after this–

you wrap your arms around his body, dugging your face and body into his.

i hope you know that at these moments, your boyfriend literally melts into the sheets under you, like

the only problem is, that the day begins as every other, and he has to go. ethan even writes to him, that "are you alive fam or are you not coming today"

and he don't know how to respond, so the wisest thing he thinks to do is that sends a pic about you in his arms, and he just knows that ethan will show it to everyone

(and he gets horny of course, but thomas just gets so overwhelmed with your closeness that he think that that would be really impolite from him if he woke up you with some cockwarming–)

𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧

he just panicked –similar to thomas, he also figured it out after sleeping. not gonna lie, he was so startled when he just woke up, peacefully made himself a cup of coffee, and poured a cup for you too –and when he walked into your room, he only saw your ridden up panties at one of your butt-cheeks.

your bare back faced him too, and he just stopped in his tracks –did you just take off his t-shirt in the middle of the night? because the last time he saw you at night, you laid your head on his chest as the two of you linked your fingers.

he puts down the coffee, then just sits down on the bed, slowly but surely reaching out for your soft skin. suddenly, you turn to him, opening your eyes slowly. ethan pulls back his hand, but you grab it, giving his wrist a little kiss.

"did i wake you?" ethan asks, hiding his blush with the answer. you shake your head, scurrying closer to his body. yawning, you begin to lean up on your arms, then sitting up, almost letting the blanket fall down from your chest.

"wait, no" he brags, almost covering his eyes, helping you to place it back on you. he could use the 'you'll get cold'-card, but

"what, what, ethan? is it something wrong?" you ask, simply innocent. "you saw me without a bra, even in less clothes" you wink, leaning back to the headboard. ethan gives you the cup, then sits beside you, letting you curl on his chest.

"do you mind if my boobs touch yours?" you giggle, placind down the cup again, kissing his neck as your fingers curl into his long, smooth black hair.

"what the fuck, y/n-"

𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨

i canon that when he walks in and see that you already slept in, and on the hot summer night, only a thin blanket covers your chest, one of your knees is bent –at first he doesn't why the sheets covers you up there, but when it's about you, damiano deducts in a moment

you know, when he lays beside you and slowly touches what's under the covers (SORRY IT'S JUST ME AND THAT'S SO UWAAA–) and when he touched the softness of your skin and your curves, his mind unintentionally went just

he goes to sleep too, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, resting his cheeks on your collarbone, curling one of his arms around your waist

(no, not around your boobs he's a gentleman remember?)

but he adores your body too much to not to prank on your a little bit in the morning

so when you wake up, searching for one of his or your t-shirts, you find nothing, not even a little top –walking out to the kitchen with the blankets on you, standing beside the table with your hand on your waist like an italian mother would do

"dam, do you know where all the shirts went in the house?" you ask, and then damiano just turns around from the fridge, leaning his hand on the fridge door like

"i think i took everything to wash, you know all we have are dirty shirts" he tries to fool you, but you smirk, walking to him slowly.

"you're a bad liar baby, you never do the laundry. so, where are the shirts?" hearing your words, damiano hangs his head, sighing,

"how can you say that i'm not a good, excellent househusband? you're so evil, baby, they're in the wardrobe..." he ends, you chuckle, but then an idea twinkles in your mind.

"thank you baby, i'm gonna change and shower, wait for me, will you?" you ask as you turn your back to him, dropping the sheets down, pooling around your ankles, stepping out of the cotton-circle.

"waiting? how the fuck could i wait when you're just... like that?"

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damiano-mylove · 3 years

Text

The members of Måneskin with a chubby S/O

Tw for this one - dealings with eating disorders, food insecurities, discussing what would happen if someone made a weight directed comment toward you, lil bit of swearing

Tell us if it's entirely wrong, disrespectful or any of the sort

*Masterlist*

Vic

You already know that Vic would steal an absolute plethora of your clothes, though she'd always tell you there'd be no way that she could look better in them than you

Vic would always boost your self-esteem in ways that wouldn't occur to you until you started to feel better and better about body image

If you felt self-conscious while eating, Vic would always eat with you and talk with you to ease your stress and worry

Vic would support you if you wanted to lose weight; but she wouldn't have you starving yourself because you mean far too much to her to be hurting yourself and putting yourself through that

And you wouldn't be losing weight for her, because Vic loves you exactly the way you are

If someone made an insensitive comment toward you, Vic would immediately get up in arms - that person would come away crying

Your chub didn't really matter to Victoria in a negative way; there was more of you to love, to hold, and to cherish, and besides, Vic fell in love with your mind and soul

Thomas

King of sleeping on you

If he has the chance, Thomas will be laying his head on your thighs, between your thighs or with his arms wrapped around your thighs - he strikes as a thigh guy

Thomas loves your thickness, and he doesn't mind it whatsoever

Meals are always shared together, no matter what, so eating alone stopped being a massive worry for you almost as soon as you two started going out

Thomas definitely knows how to sew, and he would sew you clothes by hand - somehow he knew exactly what size you were to a T and everything was an absolute perfect fit

If cellulite or stretch marks bothered you, Thomas would massage oils into them in the evenings, after you had a shower, but only after kissing every one of them and assuring you that he thought they were just as beautiful as you

When I tell you every chubby S/O appreciation post on Instagram would be liked by Thomas, I mean it

If someone dared to make a comment about your weight in front of Thomas, he would either immediately remove you from the situation, or he would get all up in the person's face and pick a fight

Thomas greatly appreciated your thickness, more than you'd ever expect

Ethan

Ethan would never ever give you a backhanded compliment

He's quite mindful to always be respectful and think about what he's saying before he admires you out loud (he's always admiring you internally)

How could he ever detest your weight when you fit in his arms ever so perfectly and just as you both adore?

Fatphobia would set Ethan the fuck off - to the point where he even got in trouble for labeling some stupid asshole who thought it would be okay to call you a name in his presence

If you think for a second that Ethan would avoid being with you in public because of your body, you are completely and entirely wrong and Ethan would be the proudest man in the world to have you be his side

You're the last one Ethan sees at night, and the first one he sees in the mornings; and that fact alone means more to him than any number on a scale ever will

Damiano

Right off the bat: if Damiano spotted any eating disordered behaviours, he would sit your ass right down and have a long talk with you

Whether it be binge-eating, purging, restricting, or anything like that, either to make you lose weight or having a lack of control over food, Damiano wouldn't let you go through something so heavy and horrible - and he would be right beside you in recovery

That said, Damiano has absolutely no problem with you being a bit chubby

He is proud and happy to be your boyfriend, and he loves your thickness just as much as he loves you (which is a massive, massive amount)

Damiano is always stealing hugs from you at every hour of the day, because he knows you give the best hugs and they seem to replenish his energy for the day

Pity the fool to say something about your weight in front of Damiano, because Damiano would lose every sense of humanity and sight of the law - because, in the moment, he's defending his love and sweet fuck all means more to him than you

k tell me if its shitty or if i need to change anything

#måneskin #maneskin #vic de angelis #victoria de angelis x reader #victoria maneskin #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #thomas maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #ethan maneskin #damiano #damiano david #damiano david x reader #damiano x reader #damiano maneskin #x reader #headcanon

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marlena-immortale · 1 year

Note

I wanna know who in må has a daddy kink. My guess is Ethan lovesss being called daddy

Okay I'm answering this as how would they each react to being called Daddy or calling you Daddy bc that's what this made me think of.

I think Ethan would be a little surprised at first if you called him Daddy in the bedroom, but would instantly love it and tell you to say it again until you're screaming it while he bounces you on his cock. And then he would tease you about it afterward to see you blush. But once you see the effect it has on him you use it to your advantage to turn him on, maybe even in public so he has to suffer, of course only to punish you later for teasing him.

With Damiano, I feel like he'd be the type to love to joke around in bed and maybe you call him Daddy as a joke and he just freezes because omg that was actually really hot. And then you call him that whenever you want him to be extra rough that night. But of course I have to include my fav subby Dami in here too because he would absolutely love to tease a dominant partner by calling you Daddy in his best whiny submissive voice just to turn you on and to hear you coo at how adorable he is and call him your baby boy.

Vic would be the first to bring it up for sure, requesting that you call her Daddy. And maybe it feels a little unnatural at first but once you see how much it turns her on you never want to stop calling her that. And she leans into it so hard, telling you how "Daddy's gonna take care of you and make you cum so hard" and getting off on your reactions.

I looove the idea of Thomas being the one to accidentally call you Daddy when he's all blissed out in subspace and probably doesn't even know what he's saying. And you handle it so well, just letting him ramble on and telling him he's such a good boy for you and he can let go for Daddy. And then afterwards when he's more coherent, you tell him what he said and he's just blushing and stuttering and saying he didn't think he actually said that out loud. He's obviously adorable and you can't help smiling at his slight panic but you also want him to feel comfortable embracing what he's into and encourage him to say it again.

#maneskin smut #maneskin x reader #maneskin headcanons #damiano david smut #damiano david x reader #ethan torchio smut #ethan torchio x reader #victoria de angelis smut #victoria de angelis x reader #thomas raggi smut #thomas raggi x reader #damiano david #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #victoria de angelis #maneskin #asks #blurbs

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filthforfriends · 5 days

Text

The Hybrid (Part 4)

Damiano x Thomas Omegaverse

Word Count: 6.9k

CW: mentions of abuse and also god might smite you for reading

They snuck out of Damiano’s building the back way, leaving a note on the table in case the security force came to check on him. The less the government could track their whereabouts, the better.

The Raggi’s lived in a small apartment in a giant complex. Damiano had always wondered why they didn’t pick a better location. With Thomas’ job, he could definitely afford to move his mom somewhere cozier. Dami then realized that it's a lot easier to blend in, to be inconspicuous, when you look and live the exact same as hundreds of units. Even if the security force did arrive, it would take several precious minutes to find the address.

“Head down, hair in front of your face,” Thomas murmured.

“What about sun glasses or a hat?”

“No, it’ll look like we’re trying to hide. That's more likely to get us in trouble than some bruising.” Getting out of his nice, warm, comfortable nest had been terrible. The apartment smelled foul and everything reminded him of Samuel: the mediocre, the bad, and the ugly. Thomas made them both shower all the pheromones off, change clothes, and laundered the dirty ones. Dami didn’t realize how comforting the scenting had been until it was gone. Everything felt too raw and sharp.

They didn’t even touch after showering to reduce the production of pheromones. Damiano wanted to cling to Thomas, but wasn’t allowed a hug and it was brutal. In the car Tom drove with all the windows down. Even though he wasn’t chilly, Damiano started shivering and couldn’t stop.

“Are you cold?” He shook his head no and Thomas refocused his attention on driving, jaw set. He’d coached Damiano not to display any affection, not even signs of a close friendship. Dami knew that this was for his mate’s protection and would therefore follow instructions exactly. Nevertheless, Tom’s embrace in his nest had been the only thing that made one of the worst days of his life bearable. This stoicism made him feel so isolated that Damiano wanted to cry from loneliness and his breath caught in his throat.

“Take a deep breath. Remember that I love you.” The omega clenched his teeth and focused on not gasping for air. Damiano willed himself to keep it together a while longer until they were safe.

“I love you too.” Out of instinct, he reached towards Thomas after getting out of the car. They were always connected in some way: an arm around someone’s shoulders, waist, or hips. A hand on the back or musing someone’s hair. Holding each other in some way, playing with the others outerwear, usually in an effort to bring them closer. No, they hadn’t been inconspicuous enough.

Damiano followed dutifully behind Thomas, not completely confident in his ability to remember the location of the apartment. When they reached the door, he didn’t knock, just stood close to the keyhole. After a moment, his mother opened the door and shooed them inside. The place smelled of food, but Dami wasn’t sure what. He was just getting his bearings when Thomas crushed him in a hug. Showering him with compliments while moving the hair from his face, he kissed his forehead then lips.

“You did so well, caro mio. I’m so sorry you had to do that, but you were amazing and perfect. I’ll do my best to keep you from doing something like that again.” Kiss. “And I’m so proud of you.” Kiss. “You were poised and composed and casual. I don’t think anyone noticed you did such a good job caro mio. I love you so much, cucciolo and I’m so lucky…” The ache in his ribs caused Damiano to tune him out. The shivering has stopped, as has the unease from Samuel’s smell, and the fear from being somewhere he could find Damiano. The omnipresent exhaustion from spending hours in fight or flight kicked in and he was slouching, giving Thomas his weight.

“Woah, I got you cucciolo.” Damiano felt himself being swept off the ground. So close to the blurring light fixture the rays started to give him a pounding headache so he closed his eyes. The next feeling he registered was his shoes being taken off, and found himself on a bed with pink roses embroidered on the sheets.

“How long have I been asleep?” he mumbled, discombobulated.

‘Uh, about 45 seconds,” Thomas chuckled, pulling a shoe off. Thomas' mother blocked the hallway light when she entered the room, and put a hand between his shoulder blades.

“Drink this.” A straw was held up to his mouth, and the liquid thick, like a smoothie or meal replacement, probably with electrolytes.

“Thank you Marcella,” he slurred.

“Sit up for me dear,” she coaxed, that hand on his back pushing him upwards. Damiano sensed Thomas, felt the bed shift, and saw him leaning over. With the help of his mother, he pulled off Damiano’s top layers, and yanked his coat out from under him. He left the room which caused a pang of anxiety.

“Tommy –”

“He’ll be right back, bambino. Drink more.” Dami makes a noise of dissent, but Marcella reminds him of his own mother, so rejecting self care is not an option. She’s known him for too long not to force her maternal instincts upon him. Thomas does walk back into the room, and immediately reaches for the button of Damiano’s jeans, who this time makes a grunt to indicate scandal and chokes on his smoothie. Thomas laughs and actually smiles for the first time today, so it's worth it.

“Unless you want to sleep in jeans, that is?” He pulls the pants down, and off, carefully replacing them with old pajamas.

“Cold,” he hears a female voice say, only registering that it's a warning from Marcella when the contusion ointment meets the bruised skin of his ribcage. Damiano hisses in pain, but feels his hand being held by Thomas, who's sitting in the middle of the bed. He thinks that Dami has his eyes closed, that he doesn’t see Thomas turn his back because he can’t bear to watch, and who puts a hand to his mouth to repress the urge to be sick. Marcella’s touch is steady when it moves up to Damiano’s face. She pauses.

“Caro, let's put a shirt on him while he’s still awake.” Tom doesn’t trust his voice, just pulls the ratty long sleeve he brought from his childhood bedroom over Dami’s head, guiding his arms. He takes the glass back to the kitchen as an excuse to leave his mother’s bedroom, but ends up setting it on the counter and running to the bathroom. Thomas turns on the sink hoping that his omega couldn’t hear the retching, couldn’t hear this total crumbling of strength. Would he have been able to do this without his mom’s help? Maybe, maybe not.

Like a coward, he stays in the bathroom until his mother’s gentle knock on the door. The wobbles on his feet, emotionally exhausted in his own right.

“Is he asleep?” Thomas asks, opening the door.

“Yes. Come eat, let’s talk.” Marcella is barely tall enough to hold her son's face between her hands. Tom stoops over to embrace her. She feels small and delicate, like the skeleton of a bird. This perception of fragility is the thing that finally brings Thomas to his knees, both emotionally and physically. Marcella strokes his hair as he cries, kissing the crown of his head lovingly as he had done to Damiano just minutes ago.

“You did everything right. Getting help, coming here, loving him. I know it's jarring to learn that he’s not invincible, but you’ll adapt.”

“Will I?” he sobs.

I don’t expect you to be superhuman, and neither does that boy who’d follow you to hell and back if you asked. You held back for as long as your biology would let you.”

“And now what?”

“Now we contain this for as long as possible while still letting you live your life.”

“And after that?”

“A discussion for another evening.” It was a relief to confide in his mother as he sat on the living room couch. Every 20 minutes of ranting she would give him something new to eat or drink. Finally, Thomas didn’t feel alone in anything, and the urge to cry abated.

Marcella stroked her son’s head, who had grown up and was a foot taller than her. His soft, blond hair had been the same since she held him as a baby, when Thomas was new and delicate, and so tiny. She remembered being able to hold the grown man beside her in one arm. When she’d gotten the diagnosis, Marcella laid infant Thomas on her chest and felt the pitter-patter of his little heartbeat against hers. She watched the shadows her son’s long eyelashes cast on his flushed cheeks as he slept, and tried to figure out an ethical thing to do. As the full moon moved outside the window, the shadows on Tom’s face lengthened then shrunk to nonexistence. Marcella decided that she could not fix her baby, because he was not born broken.

During that endless night, she thought about all the inevitabilities. That one day her child would grow up, and he would love someone so much that his choice to refrain would be taken from him. That would be a joyous day, whether he be a fully fledged omega, or a hybrid. Marcella could never have anticipated how messy things would get on the way there.

“He’s so beautiful,” she hummed. “He always was, but his energy has changed. He’s more receptive, less prideful.”

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”

“The relationship?”

“That…but knowing who I am. He showed me.” She nodded thoughtfully, then seemed to come to a decision.

“Then everything is as it should be.” Her peaceful expression sours after a moment. “Except what the monster did today.”

“I wish I could hurt him, do permanent damage,” Thomas seethed.

“But you were made for better things.” This was a mantra he’s been raised on. When met with the urge for retaliation, violence, or aggression, Marcella would remind her son. This was, ofcourse, because Thomas didn’t have the physicality to take on an actual alpha and could get mortally wounded.

“The frustration and inadequacy you’ll feel is rooted in a society that views physical harm and control as desirable conflict resolution tactics.That is not a society whose opinion you should care about. Be good to those you love and let love compel you to do good. Not violence.” Marcella sits back and unclasps her hands. “You should sleep now,” she instructs.

“I don’t know if I can,” he sighs, looking at the kitchen clock. “How is it only 9pm? Christ, okay.” He groans as he stands up and walks to the linens closet.

“What are you doing?” his mother inquires.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch and you’ll sleep in my bed, right?”

“No, you should sleep with your mate. I put Damia in my room because you can barely fit on that tiny mattress of yours. I’ll sleep there.” Thomas opened and closed his mouth twice, face feeling hot.

“I, I – but we don’t need to be in the same bed! We’re not gonna do anything.” Marcella raised one eyebrow and looked at him quizzically. She was a matter of fact woman unintimidated by any conversation.

“If he wakes up in the middle of the night a knot might be the most comforting thing.”

“Mom,” Thomas groans in mortification. They talked about everything, but part of never having a mate or sustained relationship was that there was no reason to talk about this.

“I assume that's a function the two of you have figured out?”

“Oh my god, can we please not talk about this?”

“Thomas Raggi,” using his full name was never a good sign. “There is nothing gross about omegan reproductive biology, just because it’s not your biology,” she scolded. “The reason we’ve made it this long is because I had all the information and could research it.”

“I know that,” he lamented. “Yes, that part works.”

“And what other parts work?” Thomas sighed, looking at the floor when he responded.

“Bonding, scenting, and glands, but it's uncomfortable.”

“Not marking?”

“We haven’t tried. I wasn’t sure I’d be safe and I was right. Victoria recognized my alpha scent from his nest today.”

“Alpha scent? So it’s not the same?”

“No.” Marcella started scribbling down on a notepad. She’d likely spend the whole evening pouring over the stacks of books concerning hybridism that she hid between the walls. It was an ever growing collection of not necessarily banned, but somewhat incriminating literature accessed via a loose board and lots of ingenuity.

“There’s also this thing, where we can comfort each other using pheromones.” Thomas didn’t see his mother surprised often, but the expression flashed across her face before she resumed writing at a frenzied pace. Thomas waited until her pen slowed.

“So what do you think?” He regarded his mother’s advice above all else, sometimes even his own reasoning.

“I think marking might be the most healing thing for Damiano, and the best for both of you. It's the natural progression. I think he should understand exactly what he’s getting himself into first. Too many people know for this to stay quiet. Victoria will be trustworthy for a time, but Samuel is going to indict you as much as possible. It's almost inevitable that you’ll be detained, even if you’re just accused of having a romantic and sexual relationship with another omega. With your history, they’ll ask questions and your mate could be implicated too.” Just the thought of Damiano being put in harm's way has Tom choking on his panic.

“I’m gonna check on him.” Thomas opens the door slowly, a slant of light illuminating Dami’s form under the pink comforter. His back is turned, so Tom tip-toes in to get a look at his face. Damiano’s expression is peaceful, such a stark contrast to the bruising that marks his face. His body has automatically favored the uninjured side in his sleeping position. It’s immediately too much for Thomas and the nausea comes back. He quickly leaves the room, propping his forearms against the kitchen counter as he collects himself.

“He’s still asleep,” Thomas announces as he walks back into the living room. “I think I’m gonna sleep out here so I don’t disturb him.”

“Thomas –”

“Mom, I can’t even look at his face,” he divulges. “I don’t want to exist in a world where bad things happen to Damiano.”

“And like every other alpha, you’ll have to reconcile the fact that terrible things are going to happen to your omega, and you’ll be powerless to stop them.” If not for his slumbering mate, Thomas would seriously consider outright screaming in frustration.

“But how, mom? How!?”

“Center him in everything you do. An alpha’s world revolves around themselves until they find a mate. It's not about you anymore, Thomas. It’s not about your preferences, it’s about what he needs and –” A noise coming from the bedroom causes Marcella to pause, and Thomas rushes down the hall.

“Uh, what, huh? Tommy?” Damiano is half conscious and disoriented in the dark, unfamiliar space. Their voices must have been too loud and woken him. Thomas closes the door behind himself, deciding that now is as good a time to go to lay down as any. Sleep was going to evade him regardless.

“Right here, cucciolo. You okay?” The bed dips as he sits down and shucks his jeans off quickly.

“Huh? I think, um, I…hey.” Thomas crawls up the mattress, rubbing his hand along Damianos form over the blanket so he’d know his alpha was close. Thomas had barely pushed a leg under the covers when Dami tried to snuggle up to him. That was made difficult by the fact that Thomas hadn’t laid down yet. He was immediately too warm with two bodies under heavy bedding. As his head hit the pillow, he felt almost suffocated, claustrophobic plagued by the nerve wracking fear that he was going to fail his mate.

When Damiano actually laid his head on his alpha’s chest, that emotion dissipated and intense affection took its place. Dami wasn’t satisfied with having just an arm slung over Thomas, and slithered so he was almost completely on top of him, legs tangled together.

“You’re here,” he croaked, as Tom carefully wrapped him up, conscious that his arm didn’t put weight on a tender spot.

“I’m here, cucciolo.”.

“But where am I?” Instead of lifting himself up to converse, Dami’s eyes stayed closed and he burrowed further against Tom’s neck, nuzzling him contentedly. Wherever they were, Thomas was here too, which is another way of saying that Damiano was home.

“We’re at my mom’s apartment and I was going to sleep right here, with you tonight. If that’s okay?”

“Mhm!” Damiano confirmed, enthusiastically nodding his head. There was that sick feeling again. How could anyone not cherish him? Thomas couldn’t reconcile reason with reality.

“This isn’t the couch. Did you get a new bed?” he mumbled, voice sleepy.

“No, we're in my mom's room. She’s sleeping in my bed.”

“I fucking hate that bed,” Dami groaned. “Was too small for both of us. Didn’t have an excuse to cuddle you,” he complained. Thomas was thrilled to know Damiano’s inner thoughts from those early years.

“We tried once, remember? You said you were too uncomfortable to sleep.”

“I meant my dick was too uncomfortable for me to sleep. You were spooning me and I was hard the whole fucking night.” Tom giggles and grins into Damiano’s curls. Despite the day they’d had he can feel Dami’s lips turn into a smile.

“You could’ve gone to the bathroom.”

“Oh, I thought about it. But I couldn’t risk you not holding me when I got back.”

“So you just suffered the whole night?” Thomas laughs incredulously.

“Was worth it.”

“You could have woken me up. I probably would have helped you deal with it!” his chest rumbles as he speaks.

“You were 15. Plus, if I woke you up every time I got a boner from us being in the same bed, we would never sleep through the night.”

“Then why’d you put yourself through it?” Thomas exclaimed.

“You’ve always smelled so, so fucking good,” he moaned. Each word he rutted against Thomas’ hip a little.

“Okay, I can’t smell that good!” Thomas was feeling shy, but loved being surrounded by all this affirmation.

“Mm-mm, you don’t get it. You’re not fully hormonal, the scent part is so fucking strong.” Damiano clutched Thomas’ thigh between his own so he could rub against it as the memories flooded his mind. “I got a little obsessed with it. I thought you were just the cool, kinda introverted kid that was a wicked good guitar player and fun to be around. And then I started to smell you. Wasn’t sure that I liked it at first, but that evolved into me huffing your dirty gym clothes when to one was around like a fucking pervert.”

“So you figured out you liked it?” Thomas chuckled, feigning his casual manner. Damiano decides to spare him the teenage fantasies of masturbating in a pile of Tom’s dirty laundry. Also filed under Maybe We Don’t Tell Him Ever is licking Thomas’ dirty boxers when he went to the bathroom and consequently having a toe curling orgasam after thrusting against his mattress exactly four times. Instead of answering Thomas' rather rhetorical question, Damiano surprises him by pushing his sweatshirt up and ducking under the fabric so he can lick Tom’s armpit while scenting him.

Thomas gasps at the feeling, pulling away because he's ticklish. He feels the same confused arousal as he did when Dami rimmed him during his rut. Dami hangs on, seeking out Thomas’ body when he pulls away, thrusting against his thigh in all their clothes. Tom had been very thorough in instilling in his conscience that they couldn’t have sex tonight. For a moment he forgets why, because Damiano is sober and extremely enthusiastic right now so why not? Oh yes, because if he turned the light on his omega would be covered in bruises from the fist of another alpha.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he rushes out while reaching to switch on the bedside lamp. Damiano pushes Tom’s sweatshirt over his head, who’s subsequently greeted with a glorious view of Dami’s stomach where his shirt rides up: tattooed, tan, muscular, with a smattering of hair and the beginnings of sweat. Christ. The bruising is isolated to one spot, and the swelling in his face has gone way down, so if he’s just self aware when they have sex…no.

“I can’t get hard right now, knowing what happened barely a day ago…” Damiano reaches between their bodies and grabs Thomas’ cock over his briefs. His completely erect dick jumps in response. Dami raises an eyebrow, but after seeing the amount of conflict in Thomas' expression, his face falls. Damiano realizes that he’s probably not going to get a knot, (or what he really wants, to be marked) because his mate has such a strict moral code. Thomas sees the genuine, crestfallen disappointment, and combined with a contradictory gut instinct, he reevaluates.

“I'm making this about me,” he says slowly, checking that the words feel just as true rolling off the tongue. “This is about what you need. I’m afraid that I’m going to cause further harm because I don’t have the awareness of a real alpha.”

“You’re my alpha,” Damiano counters, straddling Tom’s hips, who’s propped up on his elbows.

“I am,” he smirks, looking up at his mate.

“So you’re a real alpha.” Damiano watches where his fingertips touch the skin of Thomas’ chest, circling each freckle. “And I’m not making my choices in a cloud of hormones. I have near complete autonomy with you, so don’t worry about compensating for the pheromonal influence. In fact,” Dami leans over to kiss a line down Thomas’ chest. “I’ve never been so clear-headed with anyone.”

“Is that your long-winded,” Dami draws a circle around Tom’s bellybutton with his tongue who lets out a sigh. “Extremely sexy way of saying that this isn’t going to make things worse?” He runs a hand through his omega’s greasy hair, only noticing its silky texture. Dami catches his hand and sucks on what should have developed into a scent gland, but didn’t due to Thomas’ hybridism. He expects to feel nothing, which is why the bolt of electricity down his arm makes him jump. Dami looks up with a devilish smile, like Thomas’ body is his favorite playground, because it is.

“I think you’d really struggle to harm me accidentally.” There's nerves in Thomas’ wrist that he’s never felt before, awakened by Dami’s insistent tongue. It’s uncomfortable, but also so exciting. His internal glands had matured completely, which made sense since they’re the first to be developed in the womb. Next came the neck glands which were underdeveloped, but not so severely that people noticed if he kept his hair long. However, the glands on his wrists just looked like a scar, which is exactly what Thomas said they were. As a child he had a tragic, rare infection that resulted in them being removed. The government was so desperate to keep any variation a secret, that they came up with the story for him and stuck it in his official medical history.

“Can we stop experimenting now? Do something we know works?” Thomas whined, wrinkling his nose from enduring the discomfort.

“Of course, principe,” Dami gives the area a final lick.

“Why are you so far away, come ‘ere,” he coaxes, affectionately. Damiano crawls upwards and Thomas greets him with the softest kiss he’s ever received. It's not a peck, or a brush of lips, just so, so careful. Tom opens his mouth while tilting his head to deepen the kiss, letting Dami press his tongue into his alpha’s mouth.

“Take off your clothes, cucciolo,” he coos. Damiano swings a leg back over so he can peel back his pants and boxers, doing the same to Thomas, who’d usually be the aggressor, but is waiting patiently for Damiano to straddle him once again. Tom notes that he elects to keep his shirt on, pulling it down to cover his abdomen.

When they resume kissing, Thomas lays back and gently guides Damiano with him. Seeking more contact, Dami flattens his body horizontally, against his mate. Having a layer of fabric between them felt very strange. Thomas’ mouth stays soft and relaxed, minimizing his movement, but making sure every breath was heavy with passion. Now that his hands were free, he gripped Dami’s thighs, where he knew there was no injury. Even after this hellish day, he was starting to slick up for Thomas, who slid his hand over to massage his omega’s rim. His other hand slid under the shirt on Dami’s uninjured side, warm and steady.

Damiano resumed rutting against Thomas, the stimulation much more intense now that there was no fabric between them. However, every time the hem of his shirt brushed the tip of his cock. To make the process more comfortable Thomas inserted one finger into his omega, putting some pressure on an internal gland. Immediately he was rewarded with a rush of slick and a groan of sensitivity. He applied the natural lubrication from his pubic hair to chest, giving Damiano a surface to thrust against.

That hand under his shirt, stroked everywhere Thomas was sure was safe. He knew how important skin to skin was for Damiano, for both of them. Meanwhile, he worked a second finger inside, helping Dami get some force behind his thrusts to make them more pleasurable.

“I want, I want –” he started, likely trying to articulate that while this was great, on his alpha’s stomach was not how he wanted to cum.

“You can cum inside me,” Thomas offered. The view of Dami’s cock glidingly against his body transcended all higher self. He was aroused to the point of slick. Only after he spoke the words did it occur to Tom that this was a way to give Damiano his power back. Was it his sexual desires or his omega’s best interests that motivated him? Or were those two things already becoming one?

Dami froze for a second, his brain struggling to understand the proposal. Receiving a knot and doing the fucking never happened in the same session, or even the same day (with the exception of a very late evening trist with Thomas.) Damiano’s mouth had stilled and he opened his eyes before Thomas, whose face was relaxed. His lips were parted and brows unfurrowed. He was soft and willing to receive. Dami’s mouth finally caught up with his train of thought.

“Yes. Yeah – yes, um.” He walked his hands back, sitting on Tom’s thighs while he strategized how to rearrange their limbs.

“Is this how you want me?” Thomas asked, and it was like every time they’d hooked up. This was a beloved, familiar, pleasurable rhythm they’d perfected over the years. He parted Thomas’ thighs and knelt between them, rubbing his quads affectionately as he assessed the situation. Thomas had barely started producing slick and there was nothing to prop his hips up with. His bollocks were heavy and tight against his body, skin flushed. Dami decided to prep him in a more accessible position.

“On your stomach,” he directed. Thomas flipped over, laying flat. Dami knelt between his parted thighs. It was unorthodox for an omega to pleasure their alpha in such a subordinate, vulnerable manner. Dami pressed his hand between Tom’s glutes, teasing his hole more than anything else. He tried to get Thomas to relax by kneading the muscle. He gave his cute little butt a playful slap prompting Thomas to giggle into the pillow, which turned into a moan as a finger was pressed inside him, elasticity tested. The more aroused he became the stronger the scent of slick. Soon the room would reek of lovemaking.

Damiano wasn’t drunk on it like he’d been before, but that could have to do with his own lack of hormones. Still, Thomas was always delicious and the urge to taste, to know if something had changed, was strong. He sat back on his heels and reached both hands under Thomas’ hip bones. He pulls Tom’s ass up to meet his face, using his thumbs to part his glutes.

He licked a solid stripe across his entrance to start, then pressed his tongue inside. Thomas squealed and keened, hands gripping the mattress. Normally alpha’s had external glands, not internal. So, while the prostate could still be stimulated, many male alphas outright refused to bottom and went untouched internally. Damiano always thought this was a waste. He loved eating his partners out, regardless of anatomy. They had to let their guard down, which established intimacy, plus the stimulation was excellent whether vaginal or anal.

Of course, actually being able to taste them was on its own level entirely. Thomas had always taken a little more work, most similar to a female beta. Damiano never minded spending extra time in bed with Tom, or with the flavor of his slick. It soothed the intense compulsion he had for physical intimacy with Thomas, who had always been a delicacy, his absolute favorite. As a teenager he’d eat him out until Thomas had to ask him to stop, exhausted. The way Damiano would moan between his legs made every orgasam feel like a rush. As a pent up 16-18 year old, he’d go full throttle until the edges of his consciousness were blurring.

Damian could insert a finger and stimulate his glands directly, but his mate was so sensitive that it wasn’t exactly pleasurable. So it was a game of patience, spending time with Tom’s body. Coaxing him to relax had never been so difficult. He was stuck in the dialectic of pulling away from sensitivity, and pushing back against Dami’s face in pleasure. His breath kept catching in his throat as he let out little gasps and whines, which almost turned into pleas: the sounds of a submissive. There was delicious musk that hadn’t been present before, and the erotisicism of topping his alpha was impeding upon Damiano’s decision making. He started to nip at the round muscle of his buttock. If Thomas would just ask to be marked this torturous self restraint wouldn’t be necessary.

“I want you to be mine,” he growled, thoughts going unfiltered.

“I’m yours,” Thomas answered, voice muffled by the pillow. Damiano wanted to beg to go a step further, but knew it wasn’t safe. Demanding such a thing would kill the mood, so he pulls back, clenching his jaw shut. Instead he scents Thomas, on his neck and in his hair. Thomas couldn’t get as wet as he wanted, and that was okay. Damiano could use his own slick as lubricant, and they could talk about this tomorrow.

“Ride me,” Dami demands, pulling away and laying down on the bed. Thomas turns his head at the sound of Damiano’s voice. His honey golden hair partially covers his face, but he pushes it out of the way with his long, elegant fingers, still on his stomach. Even in the low lighting his irises are visibly green, how down turned eyes making him look perpetually somber unless he was smiling. There’s the hint of a scruff on his face and his plush lips are parted to a pant, a couple stray strands sticking in the corners of his mouth. His feral teeth are almost visible and Damiano is struck by such intense fondness that his love for this man beside him is almost crippling.

Thomas sits up and gets his legs under him. It’s a good thing too because Dami was suddenly on the edge of something he didn’t feel equipped to cope with right now. He helped guide Thomas as he swung a leg over to straddle his omega’s lap. Despite how evolved he was, Damiano had never had his mate ride his cock. Sure a couple hookups had because he was so beautiful that even an alpha would try anything once, but there was a sacred, untouched level of devotion between Dami and Tom.

He reached underneath him, using his own slick to lube his cock. Thomas sank down slowly, letting his body adjust to the intrusion. His hands tugged on the hem of Damiano’s shirt for something to hold. He was so pretty, sitting on Dami’s cock. No man was pretty like Thomas. He didn’t have much muscle definition, so everything looked delicate and soft. He had chest hair, and a dramatic waist. He had plentiful pubic hair and the most beautiful pink nipples. He had a proud, engorged cock, and shapely lips parted just so. Masculine and androgynous in perfect balance. Watching Tom ride his cock was an exquisite sight, and made Damiano refocus on the goal at hand: to cum inside his alpha.

Thomas straddled his lip, rhythmically tilting his hips upwards towards Dami, letting out little pants. He didn’t need to be directed, Tom was happy to take initiative, with those somber eyes making sure his omega was enjoying the show. His cock was leaking plenty of pre-cum to compensate. Immediately he felt too far away, and Damiano surged upwards, grabbing wherever he could get a hold to bring Thomas nearer

He repositioned to be upright, arms wrapped around his mate, holding him so close that it was impractical. There wasn’t room to breathe.

“Damia, can’t –”

“Need to be close to you.” Thomas whined in arousal and felt his chest flush. Losing verbal ability himself, Thomas scented his omega back, and feel the pressure of knot behind his taint.. For a moment he was dizzy, and lost rhythm, so Damiano’s hands were there to help him ride his cock.

“Keep going, principe. I’m close.” Thomas let out another long whine, this time forlorn and Dami immediately tried to figure out the source of his displeasure so he could fix it. Looking down at himself, he remembered that he’d kept his shirt on for Tom’s benefit. Of course now, Thomas was trying to get a hold of him and was going about it blind. His sweet baby was stressed that his hands were going to bump a hurt spot.

“You can take it off,” Damiano cooed, happy to be done with all the clothing. As soon as he was bare chested, Thomas finally got into it. Slick leaked onto Damiano’s thighs and Thomas clawed at his shoulder blades to bring him closer. His breathing pattern changed and all the focus in his face dissolved as his eyes fell closed. This whole time he’d just needed a lack of barriers between them.

Again, that feeling of fondness so intense that Damiano wanted to bite down as hard as he could took over. That urge was indicative of orgasam (among other things), and so he tried to push through and maintain a basic level of self control. Now, they were so close that Thomas’ cock was rubbing against Dami’s stomach and leaking pre-cum everywhere. The scent of their slick was already overwhelming, and now that was compounded with salty spink, sweat, and scenting making the room smell sour and heady. Tom’s head lulled backwards and Damiano started thrusting upward, trying to stay in the lead. He wrapped both arms around Thomas’ ribcage and crushed his mate's body against his own. Damiano used the grip to control the sex, holding Thomas still as he drove into him, who let out a little grunt of pleasure each time.

Dami looked down at Thomas’ cock, receiving sporadic friction where it rubbed between their abdomin’s. The ridge of his shaft started to swell with a knot, and even the minimal contact in that area was intense enough that Thomas was literally drooling. A trail of spit landed on his pubic thicket, glistening where it combined with pre-cum. Dami’s nose was less than an inch away from the right scent gland on Tom’s neck. Can I finish without marking him? For a moment Dami considered stopping the whole thing. If Thomas came now, it would be hard to get another knot and the weight of exhaustion was felt behind his eyelids with every blink.

“Don’t cum, don’t cum,” Dami begged. “Please don’t cum, please don’t, please don’t.” Tom tensed his entire body to hold orgasam back and the resulting pressure internally caused Damiano to finish. He bit into his hand to spare Thomas, and started crying from the pain. He could taste blood and feel it against his lips.

The second Damiano could relax his jaw he pushed Thomas off and flipped over onto his side to receive a knot. His normally conscientious mate was less than a minute away from orgasam, and pushed in Dami immediately. With his face out of view, Damiano tried to control his breathing as the knot formed, so the amount of emotional intensity wouldn't devolve into a worrying hysteria. Tom is able to knot him immediately following it up by a couple desperate thrusts. He forces himself not to race towards orgasam, stilling inside for a moment while he rearranges their body’s. One arm goes under Dami’s neck, the other around his waist.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers into his mate’s hair, feeling a rush of serotonin as they bonded. It’s the inexplicable urge to become part of the other because there is no close enough. He wanted to melt into Damiano, like butter left out to soften too long. Thomas resumes movements, hips stuttering as he tries to slow things down and fails. The splash of hot spunk behind Damiano’s belly button, should ground him and Thomas tries to help by reiterating his earlier words.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” he chants, rubbing his omega’s chest soothingly as he ejaculates inside him. Of course this does nothing but further trigger Damiano’s emotional response to being unable to mark his mate. By bringing them even closer, bonding has made Damiano more aware of the excruciating distance between them. He makes an ugly, despairing sound that isn’t even immediately recognizable as a sob.

“Damia? Cucciolo?” Thomas props himself up, looking over Damiano’s shoulder to his face which is streaked with tears. Another sob rips from his mouth and he holds his injured hand up to catch it.

“Woah, what's wrong? What –” he moves to pull out so he can properly evaluate the situation, which prompts his omega to make a desperate screech and grip his thigh so he can’t move.

“No! No!!” His voice is shredded, there's not a hint of self awareness. It's the most intense longing combined with the most potent joy and saiation. Damiano is overflowing with feeling.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry! I won’t move, I promise.” He settles against Dami, hooking his top leg over, which gives him something to hold onto. “I’m reaching over to grab the comforter,” Tom narrates, throwing it over them. “What just happened? Did I hurt you?” He forces his tone to stay level.

“No, you didn’t,” Dami sniffles, trying to stop a cry from ripping forth. “I bit my hand, so I – so I didn’t, um,” sob “mark you.” Sob. “But I really wish I could have,” sob. “I’ve always wanted to and now it’s really, really,” sob, “difficult not to.” Thomas processes the words, kissing Damiano’s cheek a couple times.

“So you’re crying because you’re emotionally overwhelmed, not because something went wrong a moment ago?”

“Sex with you is basically perfect. I never thought I’d cry this much over really amazing sex. I never thought I’d cry this much, period. Ugh!” Dami wipes his face with the back of his uninjured hand. “I’d tell you I’m not usually like this, but…”

“But I already know.”

“Yeah.”

“Because I know you, seeing as we’re officially boyfriends and all that”

“Yeah.” Damiano is smiling now, lacing his fingers through Thomas’. He takes two deep breaths, letting the second out through his mouth.

“Whew! What the fuck,” he mutters, settling. It seems that they’ve just taken the long road to afterglow, because this is a response to sex that Thomas is very familiar with. Dami seems to actually relax back into the bed, and chuckles self consciously.

“I must be a great boyfriend, randomly giving you two minutes of the most extreme emotional response you’ve ever seen in your life, then just moving on.” He rolls his eyes at himself, which Thomas doesn’t like very much. This emotional dysregulation could be from a dozen perfectly valid things: beginning of a new relationship, terminating a mate, getting a new mate, enduring physical abuse, being reminded of past trauma, having your home made inhospitable, being removed from your nest, the desire to mark, having your mark denied, exhaustion, malnourishment and dehydration. By the time Thomas has listed all these off in his head, Damiano is struggling to keep his eyes open, the knot doing the trick.

“I don’t mind at all,” Thomas whispers, pecking Dami's scent gland experimentally. “Sleep now. Talk Tomorrow. Love you.” Thomas reaches behind himself to turn off the lamp.

“Love you,” his omega repeats.

Notes: Ah! I know its not what you wanted, but I was going through my Masterlist and realized the link for this chapter isn't active because I never fucking posted it!

#maneskin #måneskin #må #thomas raggi #damiano david #damiano #damiano maneskin #thomas maneskin #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david smut #thomas raggi smut #thomas raggi fanfiction #thomas raggi imagine #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega headcanon #alpha/beta/omega au #alpha beta omega

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