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emerald-technologist · 3 months ago

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Why Am I Nonhuman?

1,747 words; estimated 11-14 minute read

A preface to this essay: This essay was written stream-of-consciousness as a method to sort out my thoughts on the subject, and then edited into a form more accessible to the public. If it feels a little odd or wandering in places, that’s why. I didn’t want to remove the portions that are my sorting-through of my thoughts; it felt important to the final conclusion that they be part and parcel with it.

Othercon 2024 was host to a panel run by two dear friends of mine, Goratrix of the Draconic Wizard Workshop (@goratrix-betrayed on Tumblr) and Chaiya of the Treehouse System (@treehouse-headspace on Tumblr). The panel in question discussed the idea of nonhuman personhood, how nonhumanity and inhumanity can give us insights upon personhood, and whether personhood is something we should, or indeed can, reject. It also, being run by two vampire fictives, one of whom identifies himself as human and the other of whom does not, touched on the nature of humanity as opposed to the nature of personhood - which got me thinking about my own feelings on humanity, and why exactly I reject the label of human.

Some vocabulary for those unfamiliar with the World of Darkness setting, so that I don’t have to stop and explain words mid-essay multiple times:

Chantry: the building where (typically) all the vampires of Clan Tremere living in a certain city reside and work

Childe, plural childer: a vampire created through the Embrace — the childe is the progeny of their sire.

Clan: the group of vampires one belongs to by blood, which determines which powers come naturally to them and, to at least some extent, their culture

Embrace: the process of turning someone into a vampire by draining them of blood and then feeding them some of the sire’s blood (capitalized when written)

Ghoul: a mortal who drinks vampire blood on a regular basis, granting them immortality (as long as they continue drinking vitae regularly) and a modicum of vampiric power

Sire: the person who turns one into a vampire (the person a vampire turns is their childe)

Tremere: the clan of vampires I belong to, a highly unified and organized clan of blood sorcerers who rely on intra-clan solidarity and adaptability as defense against our enemies (we have a… rocky history with many other clans; it’s a long story)

Vitae: vampire blood, sometimes also called ‘the Blood’ with a capital B

With that aside:

Some background on my history and the circumstances under which I became a vampire (or Kindred; I will use the terms interchangeably) is required to really explain where I’m coming from on this. Back in source, I was Embraced into what I recognize now was essentially a cult, run by my original sire (I have since been adopted by another), a man who I recognize now was extremely manipulative and abusive to all of us, but perhaps especially his childer and his ghouls. This cult, this chantry, contained Kindred, ghouls, and mortals who had not yet been judged worthy to be let in on the secret of the supernatural. Generally, how it works is that one is invited to the meetings of an “occult group” as a mortal, which is of course run by the ghouls and Kindred without revealing who they are, and typically observed for a period ranging from several months to a couple of years. If they pass certain tests and the general judgements of the Kindred in charge of the occult group, then they are invited to commit themselves more and more over time, until eventually they are invited to take blood from the Kindred, and be fed from in turn, for the first time (not necessarily in that order). This is a show of trust, of proving yourself; being made a ghoul is a privilege to earn - the ghouls are elevated above their peers by the gift of the Blood, brought closer to vampirism. Many ghouls remain ghouls forever, but almost all hope to one day earn the Embrace - most who are Embraced go a decade or two before being chosen, and spend it proving themself worthy of more and more trust, more and more power granted. Of course, the Kindred must constantly prove themselves as well, must constantly compete for rank both official and social - but to be Kindred is to be inherently above the ghouls and mortals, inherently more than them. To be Embraced is not just to be immortal and powerful, but to have your very mind opened to understand the world better, more deeply, than a mortal or ghoul ever could, even an elder ghoul.

Perhaps, dear reader, you begin to understand why I now have to sit and question why, exactly, I have rejected humanity, and whether I am right to have done so and continue to do so. I’ve unpacked all this enough to realize that if my reason is because it feels degrading to be called human, because it feels lesser, then… that is probably not a good reason.

And yet, even as I reconcile with the fact that I am not, in fact, superior to the mortals and ghouls around me for being Kindred, calling myself human still feels wrong. I worked hard to earn the right to drop that name; to pick it up again feels like discounting that effort and that victory. Moreover, I just… don’t connect with it anymore. Vampire affects who I am, how I think, and how I act more than human ever did. Vampirism is important to me; humanity was always merely circumstantial.

But what does that even mean? What is humanity, really? It’s not merely the circumstance of being physically human, alive and breathing; after all, many vampires still consider themselves human. What makes one vampire human, and another not? What makes me no longer human?

In many cases, at least in my world, it comes down to morality - Kindred have codes of morality called Paths of Enlightenment, or sometimes Roads of Enlightenment, and those who have adopted one instead of continuing to follow the tenets of the Road of Humanity, which is essentially what most humans can be assumed to be “following” (avoid doing harm, avoid violating other people, generally hold compassion and kindness for others, etc.), are often considered the “inhuman” vampires. But I’ve never been drawn to another Road. Indeed, I still walk the Road of Humanity; I’ve never seen a reason to leave it. Community serves me well, and compassion, connection, and consideration for others all serve community. Community and compassion are not unique to humanity - just ask the werewolves of home, or for that matter the alterhuman community here - and especially as part of Clan Tremere, where community and solidarity are highly prized, I don’t feel that they have to make me human. I can walk the Road of Humanity without being human, just as one can walk the Road of Kings without being a king.

Perhaps it’s the fact that ‘human’ and ‘vampire’ are often treated as inherently contradictory labels - that many vampires who insist on calling themselves ‘human’ do so as a rejection of what they have become. And, indeed, they do feel as though they fit into the same ‘slot’ for me, and trying to wear both at once feels wrong in a way that’s hard to articulate. But I know that that’s not inherently true either. I know people who are both human and vampire - Chaiya, as mentioned above, is one of them. Being human doesn’t have to mean rejecting what you have become, or pretending to not be what you are.

Perhaps it’s simply that while vampirism isn’t superior to humanity in general, it has been infinitely better for me personally. The Embrace is one of the best things to ever happen to me; before it, I was next to nothing, with little real hope of making something of myself. Vampirism gave me power, immortality, the chance to be part of something greater than myself, the chance to make my mark on the world. I could never have been what I am now if I had remained mortal. Perhaps it’s also that I’ve been considering myself no longer human for so long that picking up the label again feels wrong. I pulled it off, grew without it, and now it no longer fits when I try to put it back on. Perhaps it’s the very discarding of the word human that made me become something that can no longer be called human accurately, even though from outside inspection I might be mistaken for one. Perhaps. Perhaps that doesn��t mean anything at all; there’s nothing material to that.

But my friends have pointed out, as we’ve been discussing this, that perhaps the mere fact of the choice, and of being happier for it, is enough. That even if there’s no hard line between the two, that doesn’t mean which one (or ones) one chooses to use isn’t personally meaningful. After all, to borrow the analogy one gave me, is there a hard, definitive difference between a man and a woman? If there isn’t, should someone who is happier being a woman feel that she can’t call herself that because she was born a man and there’s no definitive difference? I’ve lived around enough trans people to say no, of course not. That would be ridiculous.

Ultimately, I think that is what it comes down to. Humanity as a social and philosophical concept is such a broad, nebulous thing that it’s virtually impossible to define with hard edges, as philosophy is wont to do. But… vampirism is something I chose, something I wanted, something I worked for. Humanity was only ever a matter of circumstance. Vampirism has helped me, made me a better person, made my life a better life. My life as a human was never what I wanted; maybe it could have been eventually, maybe not, but I don’t think I ever could have been as happy or fulfilled as a human as I am now. Humanity was ultimately simply not right for me, and while once it fit correctly at least as a matter of circumstance, it no longer fits even in that capacity. The Kindred aren’t above humanity, I know that now, but we don’t need to be to be other than. Vampirism is not inherently better, but it is better for me. I chose to be a vampire, and I chose to discard humanity.

Perhaps, in the end, that’s enough.

#alterhuman #nonhuman #fictive #vampire fictive #plurality #endo safe #journaling #community writings

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pjisskullourful · 1 year ago

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ᵂⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᴴᵘᵐᵒᵘʳ

🐰Damiano × reader

NSFW 🔥 nasty adults engage in sexytimes

° Damiano David/female reader insert

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

wordcount::: 9,640

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

° lyrics stolen from björk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.” You loudly agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep, that tracks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too.” Liam replied.

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

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

“Moody little bastards.” He said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** *** ***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, thanks. And you- yeah, you too.”

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

“That’s cool.” You said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should hang out…” He said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean by that?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s right.”

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

*** *** ***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me get a condom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” He echoed you immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” He said shakily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

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

“It’s not a big deal.” You said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, yes.”

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

»»————-　♡　————-««

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deafsignifcantother · 7 months ago

Text

you're gonna need somebody on your bond

♥ summary: inspired by @doliacuddles's tomie fic here, as well as another fic relating to a s/o tomie-related but i read that months ago and have no idea where it could be. - basically this about Alastor being like "you're only here because you taste good" and reader is like "okay then stop being nice to me because it's weird that you're not craved like the other men so get off my back bruh" ♥ helpful lore: reader is a demon with the abilities combined of tomie and the 'hosts' from the vita carnis series. ♥ relationship: alastor x female deaf reader ♥ word count: 3k ♥ notes: femme fatale, i'm not mentally okay, alastor doesn't know sign language, she talks though. + there's light gore in these because I'm silly goofy so my bad guys!

His claws find their way into your hips. Drawing blood as usual, he stares into your eyes, testing your regard, neither of you breaking eye contact.

He's been drawn to you since the second he saw you, which hasn't surprised you in the slightest. What was a surprise was how non-sexual the draw was and how classy he had formerly been. Now he settles on trying to scare you; his heart races at the idea of you fearing him. But you never do. You just give him a cocky smile, running your tongue over your teeth as if you're mocking his attempts. It only makes him want to tear you apart.

He pulls you closer to him, dragging his nails across your skin, blood staining your red dress. His eyes glow despite the darkness of the alleyway. He had been planning on killing you, but somehow, the amusement of your neutral reactions is saving your life. He's fighting his urge to devour you by devoting his time to scaring you. No matter how many cuts he makes to your skin, how many times he's dug his teeth into your neck after sneaking up behind you, you never scream, never give him a proper reaction. Sometimes, you caress the side of his head, petting him like an animal.

His mouth opens, and your face grows a smile. His breath is hot on your face, tongue dripping with lust as it makes its way to your neck, licking up your tendon, leaving a trail of hot saliva. Instead of pulling away, you tilt your head to give him more access. It disgusts him. His body language and his thoughts offer two different stories.

He leans back, moving one of his hands to grab your mouth, pushing his claws in so deep that you can feel the sharpness against your gums. He whispers something you can't understand before the stinging of his impaling becomes unbearable. Your eyes water instinctually.

Oh, my little girl. He had said.

He shakes your head back and forth, wedging his way into your mouth, nails caressing your tongue.

With a strength only he possesses, and in one quick pull, he rips your jaw off.

With your regenerated jaw, you sigh, rub it, and look over at the baby-like version of yourself growing from the detached part of you. Its eyes are angry, and it grinds its teeth and growls. The small, pointed, undeveloped teeth show off as if they're any sort of threat.

There is no off-switch to the abilities Hell had gifted you. Even since you first fell down, demonic men would lick their lips and lunge at you. You've gotten accustomed to the feeling of teeth ripping you apart, and admittedly, sometimes, it excites you. This Mrs. Potato Head magic you're stuck with has pros and cons. One of the pros, and your favorite pro, is having the infamous Radio Demon at your every beck and call.

So, in his room, you watch him devour the early-birthed head. Brain matter fell from his lips, mixing with blood and whatever fluid was lodged behind your eyeballs. It's eyeballs, not yours. The stomach-turning sight of him ripping the flesh straight off its face, the layer coming off like the skin of a chicken's breast. Degloves, the sight of the red and orange meat around your skull makes you squint.

You look away.

The tension between you and the sounds you can only imagine is unbearable. Sometimes, you're grateful you're deaf. You don't fear Alastor, not entirely, but that doesn't mean you can't be disgusted by his bestial traits. Watching him eat you is not the most attractive sight. A bit of an ick if you do say so yourself.

He licks away the remains of your runny, sticky tissue until there's nothing but the pure skull. His long, slimy tongue had licked up the rest of your brain from where he cracked it open.

He is prepared to rip you apart and devour your creations once again. He approaches, practically on all fours, his shadow corrupting your seated form. You look so good on his floor. He could pounce, dig his nails into you like he loves doing, or maybe he can impale you with his sharp antlers.

But all he does is give you shivers as he pets your silky hair, and when you expect him to yank on it, he puts his face into it and sniffs. Your spine straightens. Dirty man.

You turn, staring at his bloody face, his sharp eyes, and his tight smile. He is so handsome like this. The swoops of his hair and the shoulder pads on his coat give him a unique figure; everything about him is exceptional. When you reach out to him, hand heading towards his face, he leans back and eyes you. Your hands don't hold claws like most demons; they're surprisingly gentle for a woman tainted with morbid curiosity. Your feminine charm is a part of his interest. The blood on his face goes from endearing to annoying when he doesn't let you wipe it off. Seriously, you wish to sign, come here. Though he'd never understand a word you'd say.

Testing his apprehensiveness towards you, you stretch your arm out anyway and rub the blood from the corner of his mouth. He again leans away from your touch, bending his head to the side, his smile turning into a snarl.

He can eat you alive, but you're not allowed to touch his cheek? Ridiculous. You match his snarl, animalistic vocabulary through two demons' language barrier. He uses his trigger fingers to grab your wrist, not breaking eye contact.

Your perception of Alastor is inconsistent. Will he bite your hand off or kiss your knuckles? Will he rip your throat out or lick it gently? You can never tell. His intentions are quite versatile.

This time, he just lets you go, patting your head before standing. He extends a bloody hand to help you up.

The empty skull behind him is disregarded but will soon be another treasure he'll place on his shelves next to the other ones he's gotten a taste of. Oh, how addicting your flavors are. And you're so willing to let him debase the creations your body births. He loves your snarls too, the way you copy his facial expressions.

His hand caressing your cheek reeks of sincerity. You stand shorter than him, bodies never close enough to touch but close enough to reach. If Vegas had odds on it, you'd step closer, and he'd be okay with it.

Out of fascination, of course. Nothing else.

He laughs and you step back. You've been comfortable with the blood and remains, obviously, but the rancid scent of your remains on his breath is the worst part of knowing him.

Husk opens another bottle for you with his claw, eyes facing the floor to Alastor's command. Your position in the hotel is a unique one. You're another 'staff' member brought by Alastor, as he's convinced Charlie that you'll be more than able to get people into the hotel. This is true, as a lot of men have come in, some getting disemboweled by Alastor the moment they try and touch you. But some of them are less attentive to you after a while.

Here's the formula, you hand out fliers, wink, and head back to the hotel. Then, men will appear at the doors for days (or all coming at once within a few hours). You caress their cheek and tell them you'll be all theirs if they follow Charlie's plan. That's when Alastor locks you in his room. He's discovered through this process that your spell will go away with a lack of contact. Three days, to be exact. The men will follow your single command, granting Charlie willing participation and fulfilling Alastor's help for the hotel. Pentious was a harder participant, especially considering he couldn't kill him for his attempts, but those went away with everybody else's. In his room, you get your own vanity, one placed so you can watch the fireplace and have a small view of the door. Homey, not the worst place to be locked inside.

This is one of the few chances you can be out and about without Alastor directly standing behind you. Husk hands you the bottle.

"Thank you," you grab it and, instinctively, brush your fingers against him. He mumbles a response before mentally facepalming.

You put the bottle to your lips and try to hide a smile, but your eyes never leave Husk, teasing him to meet your gaze. Come on, you little kitty cat, entertain me.

He's not an idiot. Between knowing your tricks and following Alastor's orders, there's no chance he will amuse you.

Angel sits beside you with a drink already in his hand, always utterly unfazed by your abilities, and toasts you. His mouth holds a lopsided smile, and his eyes stare unread. You clink your drink against his. Staring into his eyes is relieving; there's no threat, not one you're used to.

Quickly, you realize why he had stepped over. Alastor forms behind him, obviously having followed, and he stares at you while addressing Husk. His lips are impossible to read with that smile.

"Don't mind her, Husker," his voice deepens, heavy with static. "She's always chasing the knife."

"Yeah," he looks Alastor up and down, "I can tell."

Alastor barks out a laugh before passing by Angel, leaving a vast distance, grabbing your wrists, and forcing you to your feet. This is why he doesn't like letting you roam without him. You don't behave. What could he have done if Husk fell for your charm? Kill him? No, no, that's only for the useless. Nobody in the hotel would want to deal with an unstable alcoholic in heat. Have you lost your mind?

You're lucky you're so delicious.

Alastor grabs the bottle from your hand, eyeing it, tapping it a bit before tossing it over his shoulder. It travels a distance and shatters against a wall. With a sarcastic wave of a finger, his other hand grabs your hips (his favorite place) and forces you to follow him back to his room. With how he touches you, one would think you're his best friend. Your relationship is admired by those who knew you least. However, Nifty notices that he holds you similarly to Rosie and smiles at you the same way he does at Nifty. Still, Husk recognizes the dreadful deadlock no matter how kind it may seem. And though your presence makes him uncomfortable, Husk will never turn you down when you approach the bar. Mainly because there was once an instant where you weren't trying to ruin his week with your mental prowling. You brought him a gift. It was from before you were tethered permanently to the hotel, back when Alastor brought you in to show you around. In the days when you could go in and out, you brought Husk some expensive Lucky Larger he hadn't seen since he was alive. You were the one that adverted your gaze. As much as a mosquito-like woman you've ended up being within an ample amount of months, there was still a semblance of a kind woman. You drank it together, and your shell cracked open like an egg. When you spoke to him, you had the voice of a teenage girl permanently stuck in the past. He could not respond in a way you'd understand, but he lent you an ear anyway. The drunker you get, the smaller your voice becomes, and the more watery your eyes get, but the moment Alastor comes by, your voice turns into a loud, cocky laugh, and you hold a snarl at Husk. He got it. He understood.

So when Alastor throws the bottle over his shoulder and leads you to his room, Husk takes notice of the slight stumble of your feet.

"Oh boy," he turns his attention to Angel. "This'll be good."

Alastor doesn't miss your uneven steps, either.

You grumble, "I wasn't doing anything."

He lightly shakes his head, a motion unnoticed by you. The words he'd say if you could hear them.

His gloved hand remains on your side, and his heeled boots match steps with your shorter stride. You place your hand over his, securing his grip on your waist, your blood-colored nails fading with the shade of his coat. He gathers the strength not to pull away. Your hands are warm, as warm as the arteries stringing your body together; he wants to cut you open and bury himself inside you. His grip on your waist tightens, but when you try and draw back, he interlocks your fingers and places them back. I'm just making sure you don't fall, he convinces himself; you're stumbling like a calf.

His other hand sports his microphone, using it as a cane.

"Alastor," you say his name with a velvety tone. Thank God you can't hear the glitching tones the speaker just let out. Whatever you were going to say never left your lips. He removes his hand, slipping away from you, and opens his bedroom door. You enter, and he follows, closing the door, the most routine part of your days, much grander than the standard living 9-5.

His hand lingers on the door, where you imagine a soft clicking of the lock; he keeps his eyes on you as he does.

He approaches you in a few straightforward strides, placing both hands on your cheeks, the ends of his nails softly scratching at your atlas. The fireplace ignites, the lights dim, and his hands slide closer to the back of your head. Your hair brushes from your face.

You love these little (and a tad bit sensual, but he would never describe them that way) staring contests.

His teeth part. "What a lovely thing you are."

You close your eyes, preparing for a bite. But when it doesn't come, you peak.

There's no change in his expression, but he's laughing through his teeth. Alastor is not good at affection; he's mostly known for just allowing people he likes to give it to him. But when you don't initiate, he finds himself taking the lead. That's why he grips your hair and tilts your head back, looking at your eyes as your lids drop with the angle. Your brows even furrow, a genuine smirk growing on your lips. Oh, that's interesting.

Your closed lips part as your jaw relaxes. He tilts your head more, leaning over you, his neck bent to overwhelm your form. The ridges of your esophagus lead to perked tendons and high collarbones. Your head flutters strangely. Are you struggling? Your hands even lift to touch his elbows.

"That hurts," you say. That hurts? He's clawed you, split you in half, swallowed your eyes and chewed your fingers off, but this is what makes you complain?

He speaks. "You're so strange."

You just stare at him.

He continues. "You prance around as if you have all the power in the world but you melt at any caress. What does that make you?"

Would you do that to any other man?

You just blink, your expression filled with discomfort, and he lets you go. Alastor even takes a respectful step back. With a shifted attitude, his eyes squint, and his smile closes to be a joyful line on his face.

When your mouth opens again to speak, he raises a finger to shush you. He gestures to the wall with his head, his hair bouncing, and his ears following suit before his outline dissipates into traveling shadows. How will you act if you didn't know he was watching?

Your face drops. You definitely got Husk in trouble.

Don't feel bad, you remind yourself, just think about what he could do if he had looked into your eyes.

Alastor protects you from that.

While you're not too positive that Alastor would be keen on you roaming through his stuff, this room might as well be yours, too, so you run your fingers across the books on his shelves. Your buzzed state gives you lenience to his rules (in your eyes). Does he even read these? The only time you've seen him here is late at night when he lights the fireplace or during the times when he feeds. There's an outlier in the books, and when you look closer, you realize it's more of a thick folder. After glancing behind you, you test your luck and pick it off the shelf. It truly is a folder. It's filled with sheet music, once blank bars filled with hand-written notes and braces. When did he have the time to write these? A lot of the circles aren't filled all the way, and many of the dots are just black pits. Rushed? Does he write these with passion?

You flip through the papers, just glancing over his writing before a doodle on the edge of a page catches your attention. You almost miss it; it's on the far left side, hidden by the pages on top of it. The folder finds its place on his bedside table, open to the same spot, and you take the sheet out to look closer.

It's you.

It's a doodle but recognizable. The lines have been sketched many times as if he took the time to work on them. You have a neutral expression, a 3/4th view with your eyes locked on the perspective. It's not the drawing that captivates you; many people have attempted drawing you before, but it's how simple it is. There are no twisted expressions, no figures ripping themselves through your face, or your body ripping in half.

You glance behind you again, almost expecting him there. Being alone is more sentimental; his absence is relieving. When you look back down, you will see a wet patch. You touch your cheeks. Tears. Are you crying? That's embarrassing.

You tuck the page back and close the folder. Any possible further drawings are unseen; you're going to avoid seeking them out; this one is satisfying enough. The second you put it back on the shelf, your self-control loosens, and you stumble back, knees wobbling, and sluggishly fall to the floor. Laughter escapes you. Why are you laughing? No matter, your throat keeps releasing laughs, loud and uncontrolled. What a disgusting man.

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