#damiano david x you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pjisskullourful · 6 months ago

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𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦

𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 part 3/3 [series masterpost]

🍽️ Damiano × reader

NSFW 🔥 smuttastic nastiness, written by an adult about adults to be consumed by adults

° Damiano David/female reader insert

wordcount::: 15,800

° there is no more hiding your relationship, now you & damiano can go on your first date. but you're going to find that theres more spice than whats listed on the restaurant's menu

° shoutout to @sadbirdsflytoo for picking damianos outfit 💋 thank you for everybodys patience with me getting this final part to you

It had taken a while for this night to arrive.

It wasn’t as simple as pointing to a restaurant that looked nice and getting Damiano to make a reservation there. He was being picky about what was good enough for your first date.

Going to see a movie had been a safe option for a first date in your past. But he wouldn’t even entertain the idea, shooting it down before you had looked up what was currently playing at the cinema. ‘I’m taking you on a date ‘cause I want to talk to you, and see you’, he had told you during his dismissal.

A picnic in the park was far too basic, he declared. Something fun like bowling was viewed by him as powerfully unsexy. He thought a sports game would come with too many distractions. He ruled out visiting any kind of amusement park, ‘I’m not that rich, yet’. He didn’t want to go to the beach, because that was something you had done when you were just friends - it wasn’t significant enough.

And that was what it all boiled down to: he wanted this night to capture the significance of the start of your relationship. It was sweet that he wanted to get it so perfect, he thought you were worth all of that effort.

You didn’t have a set idea of what you wanted to do. But you had known when one of his suggestions needed to be ruled out.

“I wanna cook for you, I would absolutely love to. That’s the perfect way to make the date as personal as possible.” He had said, his proposal had clearly been thought on, more than just a spontaneous epiphany. “Would you like me to make a dinner for you? Wouldn’t that be so romantic? I can make you anything that you want, anything.”

Even though it had seemed like he had more to say, you had taken the opportunity to speak. “That does sound romantic. But I can’t help thinking that if we stay here for the date, there’s only a slim chance you will actually get cooking done. Most likely, we’ll just end up having a lot of sex.”

He had just blinked at you, showing you a blank expression. “What’s your point?”

“That’s not a date. That’s what we do every time we hang out.” You said. “And I’m not complaining…”

“It’s a fantastic way to spend time.” He had contributed.

“Spectacular.” You said. “But that’s not something I could get dressed up all fancy for. We couldn’t take cute photos at the location ‘cause we would just be beside your oven, and we would be naked.”

“We can take nudes together if you want.” He had said, prompting you to roll your eyes. “No, no, no, you’re right. I asked you out and that’s what we’ll do, go out.”

It had taken one more brainstorming session to figure out where to go. He picked a place you had never been to, which served a cuisine you had never eaten before. He made reservations at the upscale restaurant and you began to get butterflies, getting ready to experience another first with him. You could indulge in the significance, there was going to be a payoff.

As you dressed in your new dress, you felt nervous. They were different to the nerves you had felt before other first dates. You didn’t have to worry that you wouldn’t enjoy his company, or that you would have to try extra hard to impress him. There was no threat of awfully awkward conversations.

And in the absence of these anxieties, your excitement could flourish. The two of you were making it official, establishing that this was more than just really great sex. You were setting the tone for what your relationship would be. It didn’t matter that you were moving into uncharted territory, you were raring to go.

He arrived a little bit ahead of the agreed upon time. But he wasn’t catching you off-guard, feeling like you couldn’t wait for the date to start had led you to getting ready early. By the time you went to answer the door, you already had your hair laying as you liked it best and there were no further details to add to your makeup.

Standing at your front door, his eyes brightened at the sight of you. They seemed to grow wider as he quickly looked you up-and-down, trying to admire so many features at once.

Even after walking into your apartment, it seemed that he couldn’t get enough of looking at you. You turned around from locking the door to find him staring at you, like he wanted to memorise your off-shoulder dress.

“You look amazing.” He said.

“So do you.” You said.

He hadn't resisted the urge to show some skin, his red button-down shirt was just playing at being demure. He had only fixed two buttons in place, opting to show off not only more than his clavicle, but also his tummy, by tying the bottom of the shirt in a knot. He wore a leather jacket over this.

He had completed the look with what you would describe as ‘classic Damiano jewellery’. Of course he had a choker wrapped around his neck (leather) and his fingers were decorated with various antique rings. The earrings that dangled from his lobes bore a single pearl, matching the necklace you were wearing.

“No, I’m serious, you look so great.” He said and you saw his eyes move down, definitely noticing how much higher than your knee that the hem of your dress rested. “Do you wanna go on a date, or something? Or do you already have plans for tonight?”

“Actually, I’m already going on a date tonight. It’s my first date with this guy.” You said, playing along.

“This guy?” He repeated.

“Yeah, he’s kinda cool. Most of the time he’s a total dork.” You teased.

“Well I hope that he takes care of you and treats you right by doing stuff like buying you gifts.” He said, holding up the small gift bag that you had been trying to not pay too much attention to.

Now you smiled as you gratefully took it from him. “That is so sweet. I really wasn’t expecting you to get me anything. Is this, like, customary, should I have gotten you a gift?”

“I’m not doing it ‘cause of first date etiquette or anything like that. I just really wanted you to have this.” He said.

“Honey…” You cooed as you reached a hand in. “You are so cute.”

Your fingertips brushed against something that felt like lace and you grabbed for the single item. There wasn’t much fabric, making for a light gift. You weren’t surprised to find it was a pair of rather revealing underwear. Looking up from the lingerie, you found him wearing a smile as he watched you. How long had he spent picturing you in these panties?

You assumed that these were meant to replace the underwear that he had literally torn off of your body during your most recent encounter. It wasn’t a necessary apology.

“Oh, very nice, it’s something we can both enjoy and get a lot of use out of, right?” You said. “Thank you Daddy, I’ll wear them for you lots.”

“Put them on right now.” It didn’t sound so much like a request.

But you didn’t immediately move to complete this action. “I’ve already got panties on.” Slowly, you began to gather up and lift the skirt of your dress. “I’m sure you’ll like them just as much…”

“That’s not the point.” He said before you could expose your underwear to him. “I really want you to wear these for our date.”

“Okay.” You said, reaching for the fabric that laid against your skin.

As you pulled the pastel-coloured underwear down, you almost asked him what he was up to. Because clearly something was afoot.

But you kept these thoughts to yourself, knowing that if he wanted every single thing questioned he would have picked a less submissive girl.

Something stiff brushed against your fingers as you were in the process of stepping into your new underwear. You paused, seeking further tactical investigation.

“What is-...”

You were moving the item closer to your face, when you were surprised by the feeling of vibrating in your hands. It was silent, but there was no mistaking the sensation when it happened directly against your fingers.

“Damiano! You bought me vibrating panties?” You asked, looking up to find his smile had grown. “I should have known.”

He showed you a tiny remote that he had been hiding out of sight until now. He pressed a button twice and you felt the vibrations increase, but they remained silent. You found where these were coming from: a small spot on the crotch of the panties. It was more compact than your bullet-style vibrator, the bulge it created was hardly noticeable.

“Do you still like them and think I’m so sweet for buying them?” He asked, already pleased by your response.

“Well yeah, but I’m not wearing these tonight. Not for the date. I’ll put them on as soon as we get to yours, but I’m not-...”

“Yes, you are.” He calmly interrupted you.

“Damiano…” How the Hell were you going to negotiate your way out of this? It was more public than you thought you were ready for.

“That’s why I bought them.” He said. “Come on, play along and make Daddy happy. They’ll make you happy too, I’m sure you’ll really like how they feel once you’re wearing them.”

You weren’t getting any closer to putting them on your body. “Yeah, I bet I will. But how will I be able to pay attention and enjoy the dinner and our conversation if I’m sitting there with a fucking vibrator on my pussy?”

His expression changed at that. “I won’t turn it on while we’re at the restaurant. That wasn’t my plan.”

“Really?” You asked, not buying his words even though he looked somewhat innocent presently.

“Totally.” He said instantly. “I want you to wear them to dinner ‘cause it will be a little sexy secret between us. It’s a reminder, pressed up against your skin the whole time, so then you absolutely cannot forget how insatiable I am for you. And then I would turn it on while we were driving home, put that time to use to get you worked up.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, ‘cause…”

“Okay, okay.” He said and he lifted his hands, further demonstrating innocence. “Here, you take this.” You accepted the tiny remote straight away. “And you can put this in your handbag, or put it in your backpack that’s gonna be in my boot the whole time. Does that work for you?”

You considered the device before curling your fingers around it. “Yep.”

Your handbag was sitting on the couch and you collected it, putting your phone inside. Then you placed the remote into your backpack, zipping it shut at once.

“Okay, put them on so we can leave. This restaurant will definitely judge us if we’re late for our reservation.” He said.

You pulled the new panties on, finding that they were the exact right size. The tiny vibrator was still now and its size didn’t make itself known. You thought you might forget its presence by the time you had walked to where his car was parked.

You picked up your handbag and lifted your full backpack from the ground. After the restaurant you would be returning to his apartment, carrying all of the supplies you would need for the weekend-long stay.

He held his hand out to you, reaching across the distance. You walked over and put your hand in his, smiling at this first physical contact of the night.

He didn’t instantly go for the exit, his eyes studying the features of your face - perhaps making up for the time you had spent apart. You took advantage of this moment, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You didn’t linger as long as you would have liked. And as soon as your eyes were open, you checked how much pigment had transferred to his mouth.

“It’s not that I don’t wanna tongue, but I want my lipstick to look good for at least some of tonight.” You said, explaining away your brevity.

“And it does look good. All of your makeup does- it’s really gorgeous.” He said.

“Thank you.” You said as he leaned in to give you a very light kiss on the cheek, leaving your blush undisturbed.

Then he moved over to your ear. “But I promise you that lipstick is going to be ruined before you step foot in my apartment. Maybe more than the lipstick.”

You smiled and acted as if these words had very little effect on you. You didn’t let your expression betray the instant images that fired into your mind, pretending there wasn’t an excited flurry of thoughts. The idea that he wouldn’t be able to control his desires until you had retired to total privacy - it was as flattering as it was thrilling. You liked it because it meant that you wouldn’t be waiting as long to indulge in some intimacy.

“Okay, just make sure I get at least one photo of this look first. I want some documentation of how I look ‘cause in hindsight we might forget details of this night, it might not be as easy to recall as other activities.” You said, choosing words that wouldn’t lead you down a path of only sexual innuendo.

“Oh, of course. We aren’t looking this good for only the other people in the restaurant to see us.” He said.

You were having thoughts full of sentiment. You were optimistic that this would lead to more dates - and when you reached some sort of anniversary, you would want to look back with clear recollection. You wanted a photo you could put in a frame, always admiring the official start of something wonderful.

He took your backpack from you, slinging it over his shoulder instead. He let you lead the way out of your home, waiting beside you as you locked the shut door.

As the two of you walked through the hall of your apartment building, he draped his arm around the back of your neck, keeping you close to his side. His fingers began to trace over your exposed shoulder, inviting warmth into your tummy. You wondered how much more of your skin that your dress displayed that he would be unable to resist touching.

*** *** ***

Hikaru was an Italian-Japanese fusion restaurant. It was at the top of a skyscraper, providing views of the city’s twinkling skyline.

Elsewhere in this building were shops named after a single designer brand. A few of the floors were taken up by a casino, you had never been there. But you weren’t unfamiliar with the cachet that its name carried. It was owned by some millionaire, a name you had heard on the news more than once.

You had looked at the restaurant’s menu online and the listed prices had intimidated you. You had thought it was fancier than any place you had ever been. And experiencing it in real life: it did not disappoint.

The restaurant was beautiful, classier and lovelier than an establishment you would have selected. The dining room was surrounded by glass walls, making the area appear limitless and keeping anyone from having a less than great view of the city. None of the other diners were having loud conversations, there was a wonderful absence of screaming or otherwise aggravated children.

You wondered if this was what it was like all of the time for people who were rich. Were they always in aesthetically pleasing rooms with everyone trying to keep the atmosphere as calm as possible?

You observed it all as if you were a tourist. You chose to be fascinated, instead of getting stuck feeling horribly out of place. Damiano played along with you. Whenever a fellow patron passed by your table, the two of you tried to guess how many homes they owned. The numbers fluctuated as you tried to surprise each other.

He ordered grilled barramundi with roasted vegetables. Amongst the adventurous-sounding mains, you picked something that had some familiar (and therefore safe) aspects. You asked for the squid ink spaghetti, which came with tomato sauce and anchovies.

“And isn’t this so much better than a loud movie in some cramped cinema?” He asked as the waiter walked away, taking your order to the kitchen.

You couldn’t help theatrically rolling your eyes before you answered. “Yes, Damiano. You were right, you’re always right.”

He smiled and eagerly leaned a little further onto the table. “Ooh, I like how that sounds. Say it again for me.”

“No, I’m good.”

“So you said that you’ve had a passable first date or two at the movies. Where have your bad first dates happened?” He asked.

You didn’t have to pause to think about it. There was only one guy that could be your answer, the afternoon with absolutely no redeeming qualities.

“His name was Remo. We were fixed up. He worked with Donna and she thought we would be a good match, and he needed a good match ‘cause he had just broken up with his girlfriend after living with her for two years. Would you like to know why they broke up?” You asked.

“Sure.”

“She was cheating on him with five guys.” You said and his eyes grew wide. “I could probably tell you all five of their names, ‘cause he told them to me. He told me every detail of that break-up, for the entirety of our first date. Which, by the way, was the first time I had ever met him.”

“Shit, it sounds like the good match he needed was with a therapist.” He said. “How many other dates did you have with him?”

You maintained your straight face. “Like, fifty. I’m still seeing him, we’re going out tomorrow night.”

He grabbed his cloth napkin, momentarily lifting it. “If this wasn’t such a fancy place, I would throw this at you.”

“Don’t do that, I don’t wanna get kicked out before I find out what squid ink tastes like.” You joked.

He propped one of his elbows up on the table so he could rest his cheek on his fist as he smiled at you. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“In the Renardo taxi, how could I forget?” You said.

Your brother had promised to pick you up from a friends’ birthday party, assuring he could have you home before your curfew.

When he had told you that he was coming from a gig with his new friend you hadn’t anticipated any issues. But Damiano’s influence had seen Renardo’s focus on the schedule slip. At the end of Måneskin’s show, they had hung around at the bar longer than expected. They had been having fun and the music playing loudly over the speakers had drowned out the sound of every call that you tried to place to your brother.

His car had pulled up almost an hour late. You had watched the minutes trickling by, knowing you wouldn’t make curfew. The two cheerful men in the front of the car hadn’t seemed truly sorry for messing you around and landing you in trouble. You hadn’t cared to listen to their explanations, which felt more like excuses as each of them struggled to hold back laughter.

“I still don’t think I’ve seen anyone angrier than you were that night.” Damiano recalled, and it was easier to smile about the whole thing now. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if steam literally shot out of your ears, like a cartoon.”

“Well it was very serious for me. I thought my parents were gonna cut me off from having the internet at home for a whole month.” You said, remembering how that had felt like a seriously dire scenario. “And it wasn’t even my fault.”

“You were so mad at me, you really wanted to hate my whole existence.” He said. “Until I complimented your hair.”

Your smile got bigger now. “You were the only person who saw that I was trying to channel Korra.”

“You gave up on giving us the cold shoulder as soon as I brought anime up.” He said.

“I remember how relieved I was that Ren had finally made a friend with some personality.” You said.

Damiano was the first friend of your brothers that you had hit it off with. Not only did he like the same shows as you, but he had cared to learn your opinions about them. It had been easy to talk with him immediately. You could remember the absence of feeling like you were being talked down to, and you enjoyed it as you would chatting with an established friend.

There was a sparkle in his eyes as he decided to tease you further. “Oh yeah, you liked my personality, but you didn’t like my name enough to remember it for when I saw you the next time, two weeks later.”

“I can’t help that I’m really terrible at names. How many more times do you want me to apologise for it?” You asked.

“It’s okay, I’ve moved past it.” He said. “Especially now I’m certain you’re never going to forget it again.”

As you waited for the food to arrive, you kept talking, wanting to know how his day had been. He had been preoccupied with his responsibilities to the band today. They were trying to figure out the running order for the songs to go on their new album.

It could be stressful at times, trying to organise them in a way that all four members would be happy with. Some of the songs meant different things to each of them, so his idea of where it would fit perfectly didn’t always sync up with the others. He told you about the negotiation tactics he had developed over the years.

When you saw him pull the phone out of his pocket, you assumed he was going to show you the current tracklist. But he didn’t turn the screen in your direction, nor did he spend much time looking at it himself. You were relieved that you didn’t have to compete with the device for his attention. He tapped at the screen a few times before setting it down, his eyes promptly returning to your face.

“What about her?” You asked quietly and made a subtle gesture to a woman in an orange blouse who was passing by your table.

He glanced at the stranger and gave her a quick assessment. “All of them.”

You furrowed your brow, chuckling at how he had seemingly forgotten your earlier game. “What, what do you mean?”

He didn’t budge from his position or show any confusion. “She owns all of the houses, every single one, she’s rich enough to own them all. Any house that you can think of: she owns it.”

The concept was so alien in comparison to your life that you began to laugh. You could scarcely remember the nerves you had felt when waiting for him to pick you up. Being in his presence was so reassuring that you had settled into the feeling that nothing would go wrong.

You were still laughing when the food arrived. His plate was set down first.

As the waiter turned to you, your legs flinched and tensed at what you thought was activity from the vibrator in your panties. It felt like external stimulation, but it ended too fast for you to properly identify it. You told yourself that it was just in your imagination as you shifted your ass in your seat.

“Do you like licorice?” Damiano asked once the waiter had left.

As you tried to figure out where this comment had come from, you were further distracted from the moment of possibly feeling the vibrator.

“Yes, why?”

“‘Cause it literally looks like you’re having a meal of black string licorice with some vegetables mixed in.” He said of your abnormally dark pasta.

“”I guess it does.” You said, feeling unphased by the unfamiliar sauce. “But I figured that I should try something that I can’t order at just any old restaurant. I want to get the full Hikaru experience.”

He hadn’t picked his cutlery up yet, just admiring you as you spoke. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re always very adventurous, I think that’s one of the things I love the most about you.”

Your heart got to fluttering at his use of the word love.

“But if you totally hate it, you’re allowed to share mine.” He said.

“Thank you.” You said with a smile.

But his offer wasn’t necessary. From the first bite you found that you liked the savoury dish, enjoying the rich flavours. You consistently loaded up your fork, making sure to collect some of the salty anchovy.

“You haven’t told me how your day at work was yet.” He said.

You looked up from your food, twirling your fork uselessly in the air. “It’s not- there isn’t much to say. It’s just a bit boring compared to your job.”

“It’s not a competition. I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to hear because I’ve already decided my job is more exciting than being a dental hygienist.” He said. “It’s not like that, I’m interested in what kind of day you had.”

“Okay then.”

“I thought you liked your job, how come you’re calling it boring?” He asked.

“It is boring, that’s what I like about it.” You said. “It’s all routine, I never have to worry about any drama coming up. It’s not up to me to think up solutions for things and I make, like, minimal decisions.”

“And that’s how you thrive?” He asked.

“Hell yeah. I can’t explain to you the inner-peace that I feel when I’m behind a closed door and it’s just me and the dirty tools and the autoclave steriliser. I get everything cleaned, I get it all sorted into the right spot.” You said.

“That sounds really satisfying, actually.” He said.

“It is. I never have to take work home with me.” You said. “I like how predictable it is. That’s, like, the exact opposite of your job, but it’s good for me. I can get unpredictability in other parts of my life.”

“Yeah, I can make things more unpredictable for ya.” He said, raising his fork to his mouth.

Before you could begin to think of a response, he was distracting you with a nod in the direction of the man passing by your table. You glanced at the guy who had a pair of spectacles positioned quite low on the bridge of his nose.

“Three. But he brags about them.” You sneakily told your companion. “He acts like they’re-...” Your throat clenched and any other parts of your assumption were trapped, then forgotten.

The vibrating was back, and this time it was powerful enough that you could confidently label it. Your fork shook in the air as your knees raised in response to this continuing sensation. The unexpected stimulations continued longer than the previous activation.

The confusion rushed forward, taking up position as the dominant emotion as soon as the vibrations mercifully ended. Your lips were parted and your mind scrambled to understand this.

You glanced at Damiano, seeing he wasn’t alerted by your sudden silence. He was looking down at his plate as he cut off a section of fish.

You began to question what you had felt. How could the toy be switched on without your knowledge, it was safely in his car, inside of your backpack.

You didn’t give him any insight of what you were thinking. You knew he would make fun of you if you were just imagining all of this. He would take the teasing further, wanting to get as much out of this moment as possible.

As more time passed between you and that sensation, you found it easier to stop fixating on. You straightened up, collecting your fork and returning to your meal now that things were back to being clearer in your head. You had another mouthful, looking to him.

“I told you about Remo, are you gonna tell me about your worst first date?” You asked.

He put his cutlery down, folding his arms on the table as he gave you his undivided attention. “You didn’t finish telling me that story. Surely there was something good that happened, it couldn’t have been all bad.”

“It could because it was.” You said. “The date was in the middle of summer, on this really, truly disgustingly hot day. And he takes me to this place: McFly’s, and their air conditioning isn’t working.”

“Oh-no.” He said, wearing an amused smile.

“Have you ever been? It’s this fake American retro place so it’s booths made of leather.” You said, noticing how his eyes went to his phone, but you didn’t put any thought into it. “I’m in shorts so my skin is sticking to the fucking leather and every time that I move it’s making these horrible noises. I was-...”

You jolted at the feeling of more vibrations between your thighs. You just stared at him, feeling your gut clench as the toy kept silently buzzing.

He looked at you, eyebrows raising curiously. “You were what?”

“So uncomfortable.” You said as you placed your fork down, beginning to squirm in your seat a little.

“Something the matter, honey?”

You worked your hardest to not notice the vibrations, to not let them affect you. Because you wanted to stay in control.

Before speaking, you cupped a hand to the left side of your lips, an attempt to gain some privacy. “I think my, uh, gift is malfunctioning.”

He leaned in, brow furrowing in concern. “Malfunctioning, in what way?”

You struggled to swallow, the pulsations really wanted your attention. “It’s on, I can feel it right now.”

“Really, what does it feel like?” He asked.

“Like a vibrator. How come it’s on? The remote is in your car, it shouldn’t be…” You trailed off, shifting your weight to the other asscheek as you watched him pick his phone up.

“Is it really intense?” He asked. The way he was holding his phone covered the lower half of his face and he was touching the screen. “How would you rate it out of ten?”

You paused, your jaw clenched as the tension in your body increased. You couldn’t understand his motivation behind this line of questioning. Maybe it was because your thoughts were less organised than usual, but you didn’t see how this would help you to a solution.

Then you noticed the creases that had formed in the corners of his eyes, present because he was smiling. Before you could start trying to guess at what had him so amused, the toy’s pulsations got more persistent. The hidden device shook powerfully between your thighs.

“What about now?” He asked and the increase in the vibrations was obvious, growing to be more of a challenge to your control. “Would you describe it as less or more intense? Or is it about the same?”

“Damiano…” You began through gritted teeth.

He slightly lowered his phone and now you could see how big his smile was. “Yes, honey?”

“Why are these fucking panties vibrating right now?” You asked, conscious of keeping your voice quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Oh, did I neglect to mention that it can be controlled by my phone?” He said, turning the device around so you could see its screen. It was displaying an app you had never seen before, but it didn’t look very complicated.

You rested your forehead in your hand, you were already certain that this wouldn’t be over quickly. The sparkle in his eyes told you just how playful he was feeling. “Yes, you did neglect that.”

“Oops.” He said.

You watched him place the phone down without giving it any extra taps. The screen timed out from inactivity and he picked up his cutlery again, his movements had a leisurely fashion.

You leaned forward, trying to get relief from the pulsations. But this position gave you the opposite of what you wanted, pressing the vibrator directly up against your labia. It wanted to unlock your greatest sensitivities and there was already a tremor through your pussy.

You drew in a sharp breath and leaned back, really pushing your weight into the chair. Beneath the table, you moved your legs apart, trying to not trap the toy. Maybe you were feeling it a little less, but the muscles in your thighs twitched a bit.

A strangled groan came from the back of your throat. “Why is it on?”

“Why not?”

“You said you weren’t going to use it ‘til we were driving home.” You reminded him, unable to keep the whiney tone out of your voice.

“Yeah, but you know how much I love to watch you squirm. And I’ll barely get to enjoy it while I’m driving the car.” He said. “You’re just so pretty right now, your eyes are so wide and you’re breathing really fast. Daddy likes you like this, and why should I only get to enjoy it when we’re in the bedroom?”

It was getting harder to construct coherent and complete thoughts. The blood was practically racing into your cunt, demanding that you notice how it was feeling. Your nerves were getting more fine-tuned, the reactions of your body growing more significant to you.

You didn’t know what to say back to him. You were yet to figure out your path out of this - did it exist?

“Do you need to excuse yourself for the bathroom so you can take them off?” He asked.

“What?” You hissed at him. “Are you crazy? I can’t walk around in public without fucking panties on, you’ve seen how short my dress is.”

When walking to the table, you hadn’t been scared of flashing your underwear to the room. But you had kept yourself aware of how the skirt of the dress felt. And you had been ready to push the material down in a second.

The possibility of the skirt hitching up by getting stuck on your handbag, or the wind picking up the hem, to expose your cunt to so many strangers was terrifying. You didn’t think that you would ever be able to recover from that level of humiliation.

“You can.” He said. “Or you can use your safe word.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek as you tried to rationally think this through.

As more of your control fell, his clearly rose and you could see how much he was enjoying it. As he watched you he wasn’t just entertained, he was visibly excited. And you loved to be the source of that.

There was a feeling blooming in your chest as you kept feeling the device’s activity. You realised that he could make you feel dirty at any place, any time. You thought you had learnt this lesson when he had come into your tent to fuck you at the occupied campground.

But you were learning it at a deeper level now.

It was intimidating and there was certainly a threat of danger as you couldn’t forget about your location.

But you couldn’t make yourself want to run from it. You were feeling seduced by how evidently pleased he was.

“Desperate little girl.” He cooed at you and you nodded back at him. “Don’t let your pasta get cold before you’re finished with it.”

You felt like you had forgotten all about your food before you picked your fork up, gripping its handle tighter than before. The flavours didn’t appeal to you as much. In fact you could hardly taste the spaghetti as you slowly swallowed it.

Even though your heart continued to race, you felt like you had somewhat settled into this sensation. There was less surprise in how your body was reacting. You were thinking that you knew how to handle it and that you could control your behaviour.

With your knees kept slightly further than shoulder-width apart, you knew that you were the least ladylike female in this establishment. You didn’t have to look around at the other women to confirm this. Maybe your lack of modesty was creating a negative first impression to them.

But you couldn’t care about what they thought. Sitting in this way helped you feel less like you were waiting for an earthquake.

The only person whose thoughts you cared about was Damiano. If this was the kind of first date that he wanted, then you were determined to provide that for him. That was what you wanted, it was your greatest goal to be exactly what he wanted. You liked how his praise felt, enjoying that got stronger than the embarrassment.

“You like squid ink, huh?” He asked, watching you instead of eating his meal.

You kept using your hand to support your head. “Yeah. There’s really nothing strange about how it tastes. I guess it only sounds and looks weird.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, babydoll.” He said.

As you chewed your next mouthful, your eyes went to where his phone rested. With the screen darkened it looked innocent, as if it couldn’t possibly be the cause of the troublesome teasing you were currently subjected to. Then you looked at him, he was gazing out at the twinkling skyline, appearing so carefree.

You shifted in your seat and found the toy pressing more firmly against you. Immediately you bit your bottom lip, willing yourself to not make a single noise as those vibrations massaged your labia majora. You couldn’t quite keep the smile off of your face at the memories this feeling was pulling forward. You knew how effortless (and rewarding) it would be to give in and you noticed how wet the panties had become.

You feared leaving a mark on the suede material of this chair. That thought helped to bring you back to your current reality. You readjusted your legs and straightened your back, finding it helped you feel a little less rattled - maybe it helped you to look more in control as well.

“Are you gonna leave it on for the rest of the night?” You asked. “Like, you’re not gonna turn it off until I’m taking them off?”

“I haven’t really decided yet.” He said. “Did you know that it has ten speeds? You’re sitting at about halfway for now.”

The smile fell off your face at that. It sounded like an impossible feat. “You’re not gonna turn it up, are you?”

“I haven’t decided that either.” He said.

“Please.” You whispered.

He didn’t grab his phone, just smiling at you. “You’re really pretty when you’re stressed like this. Look at you, you’ve started to sweat.”

You could feel the moisture on your brow, poised to ruin the makeup applied to your forehead. As you slowly twirled some of the pasta around the fork prongs, you couldn’t keep your foot still. You were trying to use some of the unpredictable energy that felt like it was fizzing in your veins. You incessantly tapped your toes, your knee bouncing at this fruitless rhythm.

“Do you remember the first time you ever imagined, or just thought about us fucking?” He asked, decidedly not whispering as he spoke.

“Oh my God.” You let the paranoia of being overheard by a closeby diner win. “Are we sure this is the right time and place to have this discussion? We’re in public.”

He didn’t waste any time looking around at the others, he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. “So don’t shout your answer.”

You laughed, still a bit in disbelief. “Oh, right.”

“So, do you remember?” He prompted again.

This wasn’t a memory that was within grasp for you. Maybe you would be better at answering if you had more time to think. And if you didn’t have an active vibrator on your pussy demanding your attention.

“I don’t know, do you?”

He immediately grinned. “Yep.”

“No way.” You said. “When?”

“Do you remember that tiny little bar, Moe’s? And Ren was dating the bartender there, what was his name again?”

“I definitely don’t remember that. But I remember Moe’s, yes.” You said, thinking that you already knew what night he was about to recall. But you didn’t know it from his perspective.

“That place was about the size of a matchbox. And yet, they were like: let’s put a pole in here.” He said and you nodded.

You hadn’t been there in a long time, but the gaudy gay bar was still clear in your mind. The decor had made for great settings for Instagram photos. No matter which night of the week you went, you were guaranteed to see a drag show.

It hadn’t seemed possible to have a bad night there. That was why you had been in attendance on the night he was referring to. It had been Thursday and you had been keenly looking forward to the weekend after spending time organising a Saturday date with a guy you had matched with on Tinder. But he had ghosted you, seeming to delete you from his consciousness.

You had never heard from him again, and now you couldn’t remember his name. Instead of staying home and feeling sorry for yourself (which had been a tempting prospect), you had gone to Moe’s to catch up with your brother. You had dressed yourself in something that made you feel confident and had set off, eager to hear the fun pop music.

You hadn’t been expecting to see Damiano that night. But his company was so appreciated, he had a knack for lifting you out of bad moods.

“You told me to get on the pole ‘cause everyone else was ignoring it.” He said.

“Because I know how much you like showing off.” You teased.

“I said I would if you did, but you didn’t know how and you were scared to try. You thought you were gonna look stupid or hurt yourself. But I promised that I would teach you.” He said.

You licked your lips. “And you’re a great teacher.”

“Yeah, you learnt a few tricks and nobody got hurt.”

You could remember how it had been the perfect distraction from your disappointment. The two of you had laughed a lot, sometimes too much to concentrate on the task. He had given you humorous pep talks and there had been plenty of farcical innuendo. Shots had lowered your need to oppose, as well.

He had been the best cheerleader you could have possibly hoped for and the pride had ballooned inside of you, leading you to getting into the activity even more. You had gained confidence in your ability to complete a front hook and a mermaid spin, tossing your hair about more-and-more. Under his watchful eye, your hands had slipped less.

“That turned you on?” You asked. Your memories weren’t cast in the same sexual light - it was a fun tidbit that you could tell people, always getting an amused response.

“Hell yes.” He immediately told you. “That was the most I had ever touched you. You pretty much wanted me to hold you up at the start, and holding you close like that, that felt really good and it gave me plenty of ideas, honey.”

His hand moved over to his phone, his fingers hovering above the screen. His eyes darted down to the device for a millisecond, then he was watching your face as he turned the vibrations up to a higher setting. You bit on your bottom lip, but you couldn’t help smiling at how the pulsations teased you. It could have been so easy to stop resisting them.

“You had me putting your hands and legs in the right spots.” He said. “And having your gorgeous curves in my hands like that, I never wanted to stop touching you and I wanted to touch you in so many other places. So while I was pretending to care about the sunwheel, I was really just thinking about all the ways I could touch you if we weren’t in public.”

“I had no idea.” You said.

“And that made it even hotter. You were so oblivious to how much I wanted to fuck you. That got me so hard, it kept me hard. I couldn’t go to sleep without getting off that night and I was thinking about you when I did it. Even though I felt kinda bad about it, not wanting to cross that line or whatever.”

“Wow.”

“Yep, your body can make a man want to do some very depraved and very bad things. And you don’t even have to try.” He said and your eyes had started to slip down to his mouth as you listened.

“Oh my God, I, uh- I don’t know what to say, that’s just so sexy and it’s blowing my mind a bit.” You admitted. “That’s really dirty.”

“Uh-huh.” He said, nodding. “But that’s what you do to Daddy, you make him do such dirty things, make him wanna do dirty things to you.” His hand was close to his phone again. “But you like it, hm? Don’t you just love it when Daddy gets so dirty with you?”

You dropped your chin down close to your chest, feeling absolutely no faith in your poker face. “Yes, Daddy.”

You loved how that word tasted every single time that you said it. Saying it helped ease back your embarrassment a little. It was an invitation to inhabit the way your body was practically throbbing with unapologetic lust. And the persistent stimulations from the vibrator wanted you to indulge it even more.

It was getting more difficult to breathe, only getting worse when you felt the pulsations definitely increase. They were more insistent and your thoughts got truly derailed. Your thighs tensed as your cunt fluttered. You let out a whispered laugh, the sensations could make you hysterical.

“Do you think that you could orgasm just from this?” He asked.

You squeezed your eyes shut. The noises of the other diners seemed so loud as you wondered how you were going to balance yourself out. You truly doubted your ability to settle at this new level of intensity.

“Should we find out?” He asked.

You whipped your head up and leaned closer immediately. “No, please. Please, please, no, please not here, no.” His hand was still too close to his phone for your liking. “Please please. We can try that in the car, as much as you like. But not- please, not here.”

He picked up his cutlery, ignoring the phone for now. “Okay, babydoll. Come on, you’ve still got a couple of mouthfuls of your food left. You’re not too full for that, are you?”

“No.” You said, holding your fork with an unsteady hand.

Truthfully the food no longer held any of your interest. But you forced yourself to have more of the pasta, hoping it would be the distraction that you sorely needed.

“But it wasn’t. You were still so aware of how your clitoris was quivering and the panties were so wet against you.

When you saw him reaching for his phone, you feared the worst and you acted straight away. You needed to get to the phone before he could turn the toy up any higher. Your arm shot out and across, your fingers extended as you held your breath.

Your aim wasn’t as precise as you had thought and your wrist struck his glass of water. The force was great enough to knock the item over and you froze, watching water start to spill. It flew over the closeby edge, hitting the ground and breaking. More than a few people turned to look and you felt a far worse embarrassment. You clapped both hands over your mouth.

“I didn’t mean to do that, I didn’t think it- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You said and the prospect of hiding under the table appealed to you greatly.

“It’s okay.” He said, directly contrasting how you felt as he calmly used a napkin to blot up the bigger splashes on the table. “It’s all okay, honey. Nothing got ruined. Well, aside from…”

No sooner than he had gestured to the broken glass, a member of the staff had rushed up. They didn’t waste any time, working quickly and carefully to collect the pieces of shattered glass, putting them into a small pail.

“I’m really sorry.” You said. “Let me help with-”

They held a hand up, stopping you before you could start to get up. “Please, I don’t want you to accidentally cut yourself. It’s better for the manager if I’m the one who gets hurt.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it at all.” They told you, before adding quietly. “Those glasses are the cheapest things in here.”

They thoroughly checked the floor for any remaining shards. It was a minute amount of mercy that he showed by turning the vibrations down (but not off). The worker produced a cloth to wipe the floor.

Then they stood up, looking at you and your date. “It didn’t get in anyone’s dinner, did it?”

“No, everything is totally fine up here.” He said.

“I’ll bring you a new glass.” They said. They didn’t leave straight away, pausing to give you another look. “Please don’t feel like you need to apologise anymore, sweetie. A broken glass isn’t something anyone here is gonna get upset over.”

“Thanks.” You said, smiling weakly before they left.

Nobody was paying much attention to what was going on at your table now. But the adrenaline was still pumping through your veins and you didn’t think it would level out anytime soon. You supported your head with a hand on your forehead.

“It’s okay, honey.” He said gently. “Don’t let your brain trick you into thinking this is a big deal because it isn’t.”

You slowly raised your eyes to his face. “I’m so embarrassed.”

His eyes glittered as he took in the expression you wore. “Aw, you’re even more stressed out now. It really is so fucking cute.” Maybe you would be able to enjoy this praise when you looked back on it. “Finish up what you want of your food because I have to get you home, I have to get you home real soon.”

*** *** ***

As soon as you had crossed the threshold, Damiano pulled you over and got you pinned to the closest wall. His lips covered yours with the most power yet. It was more passionate than the kisses he had given you in the elevator - a clear indication that the night was reaching its peak.

And you were feeling more than ready for that. He had kept the vibrator active in your panties for the entire drive away from the restaurant. He had controlled the steering wheel with one hand, so that he could hold your bare thigh with the other, gripping firmly enough that you felt his rings pressing into your skin.

Now that you were behind the locked door of his apartment, there was no holding back. Your bodies collided and hands groped, getting to do all of the things thought up during dinner. The lust was crazy now that it was getting set free and the flurry of activity made you feel giddy, almost as if you had consumed alcohol along with your meal.

“Thank you for letting me take the panties off.” You said, enjoying the break you were getting since taking the lingerie off in the elevator. The moist lace was held in your hand.

His fingers caressed your cheeks and in the pause between kisses you saw how big the smile on his face was. “Aw, my little girl couldn’t take much more of that, huh?” His lips surrounded your top lip, sucking and giving you the hint of a bite. “If you didn’t wanna be teased so much, then you shouldn’t be so fucking fun to play with.” More kisses stole your opportunity to respond. “Had you ever considered that?”

“No, I hadn’t.”

His hand went to your throat, using this to guide your head back against the wall. His fingers on your chin moved up, caressing your lips as he applied the front of his body to yours. You wrapped your lips around his fingers as he began to kiss down the side of your neck. His hips pressed against yours and you were gloriously trapped as the anticipation only grew.

At first he reached underneath your dress, getting to what he could beneath the material. He gripped your body to him as his mouth travelled toward your cleavage. You wanted to get a little satisfaction for your own cravings and you pushed his leather jacket off of his shoulders. You couldn’t get his arms free of the item, but at least you could now feel his body heat through his shirt.

“You made yourself up so pretty for me.” He said. His breath was hot on the tops of your tits as he hardly paused from kissing (and gently sucking) the skin here.

“You did too.” You said. “I couldn’t imagine a sexier guy to take me on a date. Have I mentioned that I fucking love how you take the buttons on a shirt as a suggestion?” He giggled. “More than once I was wishing I could use your pecs as a plate, so that I would have an excuse to lick them.”

“I’m glad you think I look good. I had to, for you, honey.” He said, your eyes meeting. “I wanted you to know how proud I am to get to take you out.”

You felt like your heart could melt as you stared into his eyes. At once you knew that you had nothing to say that was worthy of following his statement. None of the words you possessed could properly encapsulate your emotions. Nothing would be profound enough, nothing could carry the same significance.

You tried to express yourself with actions, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips worked with yours, giving you reassurance in this moment. Your hands returned to the task of getting his jacket off. He helped you follow through, the garment discarded and you eagerly plunged your hands into the very open collar of his shirt.

You didn’t have to guide him in any way, he knew exactly where the zipper on your dress was. From behind your back, he began to pull it down. You were relieved to have your chest freed from the corset-style bodice.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about women who fuck on the first date. Hopefully nothing too disparaging.” He said as you undid the buttons on his shirt. “But I just want you to know, so that you don’t worry… I’m not gonna respect you any less ‘cause we’re sleeping together on the first date.”

You threw his red shirt away and rolled your eyes. “Kiss me, you dork.”

Your mouth was already open as he leaned back into you. You held the nape of his neck as you kissed, his tongue voyaging into your mouth. You tasted the cigarette he had smoked while driving, at the same time that you gained a strong sniff of his cologne. His arms encircled your waist and you had the desire to be entirely wrapped up.

When his hips returned to yours, you felt the stiffness that was still hidden in his pants. It kept you giddy, that swarm of butterflies still in your tummy. You keenly pushed your hips into him, wanting less distance between your bodies. He pushed back until you were grinding on each other - there was so much energy that was begging to be used.

“I wanna do something new tonight. Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Always, Daddy.” You supplied immediately.

He took your hands and secured another kiss from your lips before starting out of this entryway. You squeezed his hand as you followed along closely. You didn’t know what to guess, what did you want it to be? You thought about the things you hadn’t yet experienced with him, those positions that had gotten your imagination racing.

He got you to sit down on the bed while he went to the chest of drawers. There were still toys of his that you hadn’t explored yet.

When he turned back to face you he showed you the bundles of black rope in his hands. You knew that it was a special type of rope, designed to not hurt or irritate your skin. But that was where your knowledge ended. There were no limits to the possibilities of what he could do with it.

“I hope you’re ready to be in a bit of an unnatural position.” He said, unravelling the rope as he got closer.

“I think I am.” You said.

“This first part isn’t so scary- lie down on your tummy.” He said, his tone none too stern yet. You flipped yourself over, getting comfortable with your head to the side. He was still in your line of sight as he climbed onto the bed with you. “Look at this booty. Should I spank it? Breaking that glass, it seems like the kind of thing you could be punished over.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.” You said, squirming a little.

He rested the palm of his hand on your ass. “Have you ever heard the expression that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions?”

That didn’t sound like you were about to be forgiven. You shut your eyes and tried to prepare yourself.

But it didn’t come. “No. The way that you almost cringed yourself out of existence when it happened makes me think you’ve suffered enough.”

You let out a shaky breath, smiling as you looked at him again. He simply lifted his hand from your ass, going back to unravelling the rope.

“Can you lift this leg up for me? Bend it, kind of like you’re gonna kick your own ass.” He said and you raised your foot immediately. “Awesome, now do you think you could touch your wrist to this ankle?”

You felt a little uncoordinated, but there was nothing to stop you from completing the action. “Like this?”

“Perfect, babydoll.” He said. “How does that feel for you? Is that uncomfortable or do you think you could hold it?”

“It’s not uncomfortable.” You said. The stretch you were feeling in your limbs wasn’t typical, but it also wasn’t painful.

“What if I tied them together? Would that be alright?” He asked, his tone giving you the sense that this could be negotiated.

“Yeah, I’ll give that a try.”

You felt how non-abrasive the rope was as soon as he began winding it around your wrist. You were helplessly exposed to him as he worked. There wasn’t a single thing he couldn’t do to your body right now and the sense of having no control titillated you.

He wrapped the rope around your wrist and ankle, a knot resting between them. You didn’t feel these new cuffs digging into your skin. It was deceptively gentle, and you were surprised by how much they actually limited you when you attempted to move. Your wiggling was ineffective as you found how little give the ropes had. Aside from flexing your fingers, there wasn’t much you could do with the left side of your body now.

He didn’t instantly move to tie up your other limbs, instead giving the back of your arm a slow stroke. “How does that feel? Is there any pain?”

“No, it’s okay.” You said, making sure to twist your head around so that you could drive this point home by looking in his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Good, because you have to tell me the second that it starts to hurt. I don’t care what part of the scene we’re up to, it’s never not a good time to tell me.” He said, inescapably serious in his every word. “It’s not just about blood flow being restricted. Wrists are really quite fragile and I don’t want to damage the joint, or damage you in any way. That’s not what this is about, so I need to trust that you’re taking your safety as seriously as I am.”

You nodded your head as best you could. “Yes, I am, I will.”

“I’m not trying to make it sound scary, but I just want to make sure you have all the information.” He said.

“I appreciate that.”

He gave your ass an affectionate pat. “My good girl understands her responsibilities.” He was smiling as he lifted himself to switch to the right side of your body. “Alright, I’ve got more knots to tie.”

He folded this second length of rope in half as you got your arm and leg into the correct position. You had practically no balance anymore. The majority of your body weight went to your chest, pressing it firmly to the mattress, which changed the way you were breathing. It didn’t keep you from filling your lungs, but you were more aware of your chest rising-and-falling than you typically would be.

He placed the doubled-over rope around both your wrist and ankle, feeding the ends through the loop created at the fold. He gave the end a gentle pull, introducing tension into the rope. He slid his index finger between the rope and your skin, checking it wasn’t too tight before continuing.

He wrapped the ropes around your joints again-and-again, you lost count after the third. His fingers worked without fumble, making you wonder just how many times he had done this.

He fixed everything in place with one final knot. “How is that for you, honey? Are you having any issues?”

“None at all.” You said, feeling pleased that his effort hadn’t been for nothing.

It became evident that you weren’t alone in being pleased. “You look so good. It’s even better than how I was imagining it.” He ran a single finger up the inside of your thigh, making you shiver as the excitement raced up your spine. “My sexy plaything, I can’t wait to make you feel just so spectacular.”

He got up from the bed. You didn’t strain your neck to keep an eye on him, even though you were so curious of what he would bring to you next. You rested the tip of your nose on the bed and tried to take in some deep breaths. Your body was in a peculiar position, but you felt more composed than you had at the restaurant. You had found your base, you were at the right starting point for whatever he had decided the rest of your night would be dedicated to.

“I think I’m gonna let you enjoy a toy that has proven to be very successful in the past.” He said.

You still didn’t check over your shoulder. You didn’t need to see this toy to identify it, you got all of the information that was required from the first touch.

You recognised the shape of the bulb as it was brought up to your cunt. You recognised the smooth, but not slippery finish that the device had. The vibrations weren’t set high enough to properly disrupt your peace yet, they just felt good as he pressed the toy against your labia majora.

It was the vibrating wand that you had been unable to resist, experimenting with it in secret, when you should have been watering pants and minding your own business.

With the time that had passed since then, you had really learnt of what the toy could do. And how much he could do with it.

He pushed it up, making space for it between your body and the mattress. You let out a whimper as you settled into these sensations, unable to resist, just like that first time. You didn’t have to hide that you were enjoying this, that the vibrations were getting you wetter as they intrigued rather than intimidated you.

“Is that the best toy ever?” He asked, the excitement in your body building as he maintained the right amount of pressure.

You were getting distracted from everything else. It felt like you could float away on bliss as your labia were massaged so consistently. It steadily had you feeling more sensitivities, rather than rushing and disorientating you.

“Best ever.” You agreed.

He got the toy’s head to a higher point, your labia majora the only thing keeping it from making contact with your clitoral hood. Your pelvis tilted as you started to feel the vibrations on a deeper level - soon it would be messing with your nerves, but that would be just fine by you.

“Who’s making you feel so good?” He asked.

“Daddy.” You were fast to tell him.

“That’s right.”

With some skillful manoeuvring, he got the toy’s head to make greater contact. Your labia were eased apart so that the vibrator could reach your clit. Your body gave a reactionary twitch and your breath briefly skipped. You couldn’t help the pathetic wiggle as you accepted this escalation.

Your mouth hung open as you tried to get yourself back to that baseline because you didn’t want to come too quickly. These sensations were shooting straight through you, affecting you down to the core. Slowly you came to notice a new sound in the room. And it took you another moment to acknowledge that you were the one making these strangled noises - they had begun with no awareness from you.

“Oh, has Daddy just found the magical spot?” He asked, the delight so clear in his voice.

“Fuck, yes.” You moaned.

If you had control over your hands then you would grab his wrist, keeping him from moving it. You would make sure that he didn’t take the toy away until you were done with it.

You felt his hand move away, leaving the limited space beneath your body. But the toy remained in place, the vibrations persisting. It shifted a little as your body writhed, but you pushed your cunt into the right place again, happy little sounds marking your victory.

“If you wanna keep enjoying that toy, you’ll have to find a way to keep it there yourself.” He said.

You almost laughed because it was so absurd. “You’re joking.”

“Are you sure about that?” He asked and you were aware of him getting up to leave you alone on the bed.

“How am I supposed to control a fucking toy when I’m all tied up?” You asked.

“Oh you’re a clever girl, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

You were quite unimpressed with the fact that you had to problem-solve. You were being forced to think when all that you wanted to do was go weak on the vibrator, you wanted the pleasure to erase all thoughts.

You clenched your thighs, bringing them to either side of the toy’s long handle. It took some strength but you succeeded in keeping the toy from rolling away or getting displaced. You tilted your pelvis, rewarded with more pulsations, not quite on your clit, but close enough that the nerves in the hood responded.

“I could keep holding it there for you. But I think it’s about time that you helped me to feel good too, hm?” He said.

You lifted your head, needing a moment to find the right angle so you could look at him. Your focus was instantly secured when you saw that he had finally taken his pants and underwear off. His boner was right there and your fingers twitched, new cravings sweeping through you.

“Yes, Daddy.” You said.

He smiled as he moved to sit down on the bed. He placed himself up at the head of the bed, pillows behind his back. He was close to where your immobile body was currently positioned.

You kept your eyes on him as he slid his ass down. This brought his body (and most importantly, his erection) closer to your face. You held your head up as high as you could, licking your lips. His fingers started to stroke through your hair.

“Is this my dessert?” You asked.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He got in even closer, lifting your head and repositioning it to rest on his thigh. “Look at this. You wouldn’t let me cook for you for our first date. But here I am, about to feed you something only I can give to you.”

You didn’t have any witty comments that you could respond with. Instead you busied your mouth by applying kisses to the side of his length. You saw his dick twitch in his anticipation as you laid down one chaste kiss after another. You took your time, slowly indulging in his cock as the toy’s vibrations fed your lust even further.

You didn’t rush through the process of appreciating his cock. More of his primal scent filled your nostrils, an intoxicating aroma. You tried to surprise him, sporadically parting your lips so that you could glide your tongue along his hot and taut skin. You glanced up at him, finding his eyes had fluttered shut as the corners of his lips started to subtly lift. It was all the encouragement that you needed, progressing to kiss more of this middle portion of his dick.

He had stopped playing with your hair, now he wrapped some of the strands around his fingers. His other hand went to the underside of his erection, supporting it (or else presenting it like a meal on a silver platter). You kissed him a bit firmer now.

He started to rub his hand up-and-down in this position of passively holding his cock. He wasn’t going very fast, probably just enjoying a bit of motion.

You gradually kissed a trail in the direction of his tip. A move of your hips allowed you to feel the tireless vibrations with more strength. You moaned against his length.

He sharply inhaled as you got your mouth to his head. You parted your lips and moved your tongue forward. You worked it in a broad upward stroke. Then you moved your tongue in circles, creating a ring of your spit on just his head.

“Yes. Oh, my little girl knows how to tease me so nice.” He said, his voice quieter than it had been at any point of the night.

You encapsulated his tip with your mouth. Instead of instantly sucking, you kept your tongue as the star of the show, massaging him with an increased pressure. His fingers started to curl around his dick as his stroking came in with more purpose and speed.

As he pumped his cock against your mouth, you worked your hips into the mattress, rocking on the vibrating wand. You couldn’t let your desires truly run wild (that wasn’t how he wanted it) but there were rewards to your little movements. The beginnings of friction was wonderful, encouraging the warm pleasure to seep through more of your body.

“Oh yeah, you want some more of it?” He asked in a sweet tone.

He pulled his hand closer to himself as you pushed your lips forward. This was when you commenced sucking, creating a seal with your mouth. His hand kept at the final half of his erection, a distinct rhythm to be noticed. You tried to match this with how you moved your hips.

“Do you know that I can see the way you’re smiling?” He asked.

Smiling? You were instantly confused by this statement. You didn’t know that you were physically capable of smiling right now. Your lips were otherwise occupied.

But you weren’t going to take your mouth off of his dick to disagree over something so harmless.

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen you do it, either.” He said. “I’ve never had a girl smile while she sucks me off before. You’re so proud to do it.”

With some effort, you rocked yourself over to the side, emptying your mouth. You gasped in a deep breath as the pressure was temporarily alleviated from your chest. Your thighs kept the toy where it was needed.

You licked up the length of his cock a few times, pausing to look at the pleased expression on his face. “Damn right I’m proud to suck it, I’m always proud to give you any kind of pleasure.” You resumed your licking.

His eyes appeared to become more focused. “That thing vibrating your clit isn’t the best toy ever… you are.”

Now you were definitely smiling as you tirelessly ran your tongue up his shaft.

He gathered your hair up into both of his hands. “Open up nice and wide, Daddy wants to feed it all to you now.” You pushed yourself back onto your chest, getting closer to his dick. “That’s right.” You wrapped your lips around him. “If your tummy wasn’t full after that pasta, I’m gonna make sure it gets full. I’m gonna give you so much cum to eat.”

The toy had been moved during your repositioning, the vibrations ceasing to have any effect on your clit. It was too low now, pulsating against the top of your thigh.

As you set your mouth into pacing on his dick, you decided to just let the vibrator go. You couldn’t be bothered to try to fix it. It would take a lot of effort to get it back to the right spot, and you couldn’t be sure the result would be worth it.

You put your focus and energy into something you knew would be entirely worth it. You slid your lips up-and-down his shaft. You were headed for the balls, but you didn’t push yourself to reach them at once. For now you were exploring your range of motion, finding a speed that could be maintained.

His head bumped and pushed against the roof of your mouth. He kept both hands in your hair but it didn’t seem that he was on the verge of tugging on the strands. You took this as a gesture of encouragement, rather than him wishing he could steer you.

“Do you wanna show me how much you can take?” He asked, not moving in any way that would be making the decision for you. “You took it really deep last time and I, oh, I loved how that felt.”

For a moment you plunged your mouth down, trying to fill all of him into your mouth. He gasped and his hands temporarily tensed in your hair. There was already drool on your chin as you pushed your tongue out, past your lips. You used this to get your first taste of his balls. You stroked the tip of your tongue against them for just a moment.

Then you had to retract for the sake of catching your breath. Your lips were back on him as quickly as you could manage. Starting at his tip, you created a firm ring around his width.

You took your time in drawing his entire length into your mouth. You chose to give almost every inch its own appreciation, letting his sensitivities develop. You worked yourself down a bit, then your mouth stroked him up-and-down from this point, hinting at the tempo you could treat him with.

He whispered your name, his breath coming in heavier. Listening to his inescapably honest noises was a good distraction from the strain you were feeling in your neck. You didn’t let yourself acknowledge how uncomfortable this abnormal position was. You sucked your cheeks in tight around him, wanting to bring more sounds out of him before you considered tapping out.

You had gained his entire shaft into your mouth, that distinct flavour beginning to grace your tastebuds.

“Good girl.” He said, shifting a little in his current position. As the excitement grew, he had to work to hold himself back, but the reckless energy was lying in wait.

He let you take the next step in your own time. You moved your mouth to that point where his head was allowed into your throat.

“Yes.” He moaned, his extended legs hugging to your sides.

You eased back from this depth after some sucking. You used your lips to pump his cock, a fast motion that gave him more friction. You ended each swing downward by letting him touch the opening of your throat. You were always ready to take him back to this spot.

His fingers conformed to the shape of the back of your head. He had started to lift his butt from the mattress slightly, so pleased with the pace you had created that he was contributing to it. As you moved together, his sounds got louder.

There was a subtle change and you realised that he had taken over the role of leader, setting the pace to what he desired. He was spending a little longer in your throat.

“Oh honey, I can’t wait to give you my cum. You’re doing such a great job at earning it. Mmn…” His hum was drawn out, then you felt a powerful twitch in his limbs. His hips snapped up faster than you were expecting and he hesitated from pulling out of your throat at once. “Uh, uh-huh.”

He eased back, his swollen tip rubbing against the roof of your mouth. You reaffirmed your mouth’s hold on his width. He didn’t pause to catch his breath, eagerly getting back to his rutting.

His movements grew to be less predictable for you and his reactions to the feeling of your throat got bigger. He continued to be in control of the rhythm. There was no chance for you to gain the authority back, now all of your effort was going to just keeping up with him. You worked to not get thrown off in between the moments of synching up.

His enjoyment didn’t suffer because you could no longer match him. Regardless of how you felt like you were failing to get back onto the perfect pacing, his sounds continued getting louder. You recognised the taste of his precum as it leaked out of him.

“Little girl, oh, oh, oh.” He whimpered as he grinded against your face. “Yes, fuck yes, yea-... fuck.”

He plunged right into your throat, immediately his cum coated this area, sliding down and demanding to be swallowed. You kept your lips set around him as he moved through his orgasm still vocalising. Some of the sounds that he made were close to words, while others didn’t have a single coherent syllable.

He slumped back and you took him the rest of the way out of your mouth, gasping in as much air as you could. You rolled onto your side a little, making refilling your lungs easier. Your contact with the vibrating wand ended. You rested your wet face on his thigh as you came back into your own body. The start of aches demanded to be acknowledged, there was no way to lie that made your limbs feel normal.

You looked up to him, finding he was leaning against the headboard for support now. He rested a hand over his face as he experienced the after-effects of his orgasm. But you couldn’t let him get lost in his recovery.

“Damiano, can I please be untied now?” You asked.

He sprung into action straight away, his hands reached out for the ropes. His fingers quickly got to work. “Are you okay? It hasn’t caused you any pain, has it?”

“No, I’m just starting to get kinda sore.” You told him.

It was an immense relief to get to stretch your left leg out. You pulled your arm around to the front of your body. None of your movements went unnoticed, you felt keenly aware of what each muscle was doing. Even once your right side was freed, you still felt the tension in your limbs.

“You did such an amazing job, honey. I was hoping we could get through the whole blow job with you bound and we did, you did.” He said as you rolled onto your back. “And that was your first time being restrained? You’re incredible, you’re so incredible.”

“Thank you Daddy.” You said, knowing there was no point in trying to match his current energy, that was beyond your capabilities.

He swooped down, covering your lips in kisses. “I’ll take care of you now. Roll over and I’ll massage your shoulders.”

You didn’t need any further convincing, rolling to return your tummy to the mattress. You had the unpleasant sensation of pins and needles in more than one spot on your body.

He applied his hands firmly to your shoulders, gripping and squeezing with the right amount of force. Then he pressed his thumbs against your skin, beginning to move them in a slow fanning motion. You let your eyes flutter shut, glad to feel the strain easing already.

“Is that good?” He asked when he relocated his thumbs to the nape of your neck. He pushed against the muscle with little circles.

You hummed. “It rocks. How come you’ve never massaged me before?”

“You haven’t ever asked for one.” He said.

“Well that’s about to change.” You said, making him laugh.

He pressed his knuckle against your spine and you let out a surprised sound as he rocked it back-and-forth. But it didn’t take long to settle into this feeling, deciding that you definitely liked it. He moved it down another inch or so, then repeated the technique.

“I love taking care of you.” He said, your focus keenly sharpened, but you couldn’t think of anything to say back. “And I think I’m pretty damn good at it.”

“You’re good at everything.” You managed to say.

He moved his hands up, concentrating on one of your arms then the other. The brief pressure that he applied felt good, it brought an immediate relaxation to each area.

Even though you figured that you would be too horny to actually fall asleep. His massage was so soothing that you could see it causing you to drift off, in another situation.

“Is that feeling better?” He asked as his fingers kneaded at the tight muscles in your thigh.

You moaned out your approval. “Hell yes.”

You couldn’t help moaning again as he pushed the heel of each palm up your thighs, you felt like you could melt. With each decadent rub from his hands, you could remember less clearly how it had felt to be tied up in such a strange position. You were on the way to forgetting it altogether.

He moved to sit in a different spot. “Come here and I’ll rub your neck some more.”

“That sounds so spectacular.” You said.

The strain in your body was gone, your muscles feeling at their usual low level of significance. He was sitting with his legs parted and you put yourself in the space between his thighs. You put your back to him, leaving a slight gap between the two of you.

His hands went to your shoulders and you made another happy vocalisation, feeling like you could melt again. He rubbed his fingers deep into your skin.

When he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck you let out a dreamy sigh. You leaned closer to him and rocked your head back. You were keen to increase the intimacy without getting into any trouble for challenging his authority.

He began to suck on your skin and you could feel heat rushing into your cunt. He pressed his chest to you and you grabbed for his leg, pressing your nails against his skin as he found a way to make this massage feel even better.

“That’s so good, Daddy.” You whispered.

He let you feel his teeth on your skin for a fleeting moment, before entirely releasing his mouth from this hold. “Do you need me to massage anywhere else?” Instantly your mind raced and his hands left your shoulders. “Maybe somewhere lower…”

You were so eager that you couldn’t help moaning as soon as you felt him cup a hand to your pussy. This was the part where you truly melted.

It was exciting to know that you were finally going to have his attention exactly where you wanted. It would be torturous if he teased your cunt any further. You needed the release more than anything.

He began to rub his fingers against your labia majora, a deep caress that wasn’t quite as deep as you required. At the same time he resumed kissing your neck. You weren’t paying much attention to the lengths of his sucks (you didn’t care if he was actively creating hickeys), you were focused on the rhythm that he was fondling you at. As he groped, he dragged his hand slowly up-and-down your crotch. It was such an enticing motion that you joined in on it, your breath coming in quicker as you rolled your hips in time with him.

He let you feel more pressure, leading him to use his fingers to part your labia. You put more strength into how you moved your hips, placing so much purpose into every pump. More-and-more blood came into your cunt and it was getting harder to keep your patience in check.

He pulled his hand up then pushed two of his fingers down, into the wet area where your clit was located. You barely choked back the sob that came from you when his fingers glided over the bud. At this point, your clitoris was practically aching for some attention. The keen nerves had made the hood stand up, so receptive to the unhurried rubbing.

You enjoyed how warm and soft his fingers were as they remained set in that predictable motion. Your skin between his lips was subjected to the occasional rubbing from his tongue. He prioritised sucking on you here over taking some deep breaths.

“Fuck…” You moaned when his fingertips glided down to your entrance.

He slightly curled these fingers and at the same time you plunged your hips forward into his hand with more power. You weren’t quite reckless yet. But the motivation was definitely there as this increased pressure invited lovely tingles into your body.

His fingertips briefly pushed into your cunt to conclude each stroke downward. This caused your inner-walls to clench, the eagerness ready to spill over at any second. He went in by about an inch before always pulling his fingers out and up, leaving you craving so much more. You whined, your desires fighting with your need to behave accordingly.

It took you time to recognise that he had stopped moving his hand. As he peppered the top of your shoulder with kisses, his arm didn’t move. The motion of his fingers was being created just by you. You grinded yourself up-and-down, his curled fingers gliding over the sensitive spots.

“Please.” You begged as your pussy was eased open with the tips of his fingers.

“Do you wanna come, little girl?” He asked.

You rested your head on his shoulder, needy moans falling from your lips. “So fucking bad.”

Instead of giving you more, he pulled his hand away altogether. Your clitoral hood pulsed, absolutely desperate to be given the right kind of stimulation.

He moved away from you. “Just let me put this condom on, then you can do whatever you like.”

You turned around, seeing him collect the packet that had been placed on the nightstand earlier. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now you saw that he was erect again.

“How do you feel about being on top?” He asked.

“I feel good about it, really good..” You said.

He began to lie down on his back. “Yeah, I thought you could have fun like this. Plus you look so good when you’re on top of me.”

You didn’t hesitate to climb on top of him, your knees going to either side of his hips. “Does this look good to you?”

“Hell yes.” He answered, wrapping his arms around your middle as he moved in to capture a kiss. “It feels just as good as it looks.”

You smiled before initiating the next kiss, not letting this one end as quickly as the last. You settled your body on top of his, wrapping an arm around his neck. You kissed him slow and deep, indulging in this feeling that was the beginning of your lust getting in sync with his. The entire night had been building up to this moment and you were so excited to discover how it would unfold.

The time for teasing was definitely over, so far as you were concerned. You hardly waited to start lining yourself up with his cock. It was a relief when he didn’t try to stop you.

It was an even greater relief when the head of his dick commenced stretching you open. You moved your hips down towards his body, at long last getting to feel stimulations on your inner-walls. Your puffy lips wrapped around him, prompting him to gasp against your mouth. You sucked on his lower lip as his arms tightened around you.

The connection was wonderful, feeling like it had been worth the wait. Your body was so tuned and ready for him, your cunt slicking his dick straight away.

Your rhythm on his lips started to suffer as your focus went to testing how your body could move on his. Feeble kisses were exchanged as you stroked yourself up-and-down his length. He swiped his tongue against your lip, his arms holding you so securely as you explored.

Your thrusts started to come in consistently. Your thighs gripped to his hips as you locked into this promising motion. The gaps between kisses lengthened as you grew similarly breathless.

“Show me how much you wanna come.” He commanded in a whisper.

Your hands were in fists around the pillow his head rested on as you brought your hips down on him at a quick and hungry speed. Well-timed writhing from him saw him plunging deeper into your sensitive pussy. These shocks radiated through your system, strong enough to overpower you. It had the potential to overwhelm you and you instantly wanted more of it.

You got obsessed with that depth and the push that preceded it. You sacrificed most of your coordination, now moving with reckless abandon. The sounds of your body slamming into him got louder, accompanied by his ragged breaths and your ecstatic whines.

His hands grasped your lower back, fingers creating dips in the soft area. “Use me to make yourself come, like a good girl. Do it.”

You jackhammered into him, your body consumed by your burning need. Each time his tip spread your clenching pussy, you felt yourself closer to that glimmering sensation of becoming complete.

But he beat you to the release. He convulsed up into you, burying every inch of himself into you. He pressed his face into your chest, you swiftly recognised his strangled noises as accompanying a climax.

You didn’t try to reclaim your friction as his body vibrated against yours. You were breathless, ready to be overcome. And the spasming of your over-stimulated pussy took you there.

You burst, your excitement reaching an unbelievable height. You threw your head back, letting out your loudest (and most triumphant) moan of the night. The release hit you on every single level, showing you that all of the effort had been worth it to claim that perfection, before you began to fade away.

You felt him moving and carefully repositioning you but you didn’t have the capacity to react. Maybe you were smiling as your back reached the mattress, or maybe you looked as mindless as you felt. It would be a task for later to piece yourself back together.

Sometime later, you were still feeling like you were floating as you started to open your eyes. He looked peaceful as he laid beside you, running his fingers through your messed-up hair. You saw the subtle but satisfied smile on his mouth.

You felt the echoes of your bursting, giving you a giddy rush and you were being urged on. You hadn’t expected to feel more energy and you needed to touch him, hear him, connect with him further.

You kissed him, then rushed to say something so he couldn’t ask what that was for. “You’ve gotta tell me, we never got to it- what was your most terrible first date?”

He pondered this as he rolled onto his side, facing you. “Well I used to think that all of them were fine, nothing to complain about, not to brag in contrast to your story. But after tonight and seeing how great that was… They’re all garbage. Every single first date that I’ve had before you was truly terrible.”

Why did hearing that make you feel like you needed to hide your face? His sincerity gave you a new reason to blush. “Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet.”

“It’s true, I hate to diss those other girls. But it is what it is.”

As you stared at him, noticing every detail of his face, that feeling of being urged on came back. It was deep and you were intimidated as it pulled you to him. You thought you might be as intimidated as you were right before you had slept with him the first time. You were in a similar position of feeling cautious as you faced the unknown.

“I think…”

His chuckle filled in the silence left by your hesitation. “You’ve still got thoughts in that head of yours? I wasn’t trying to make you brain dead with all of that teasing, but I thought it was a possibility.”

“Heh, yeah…” You quietly responded.

He was smiling as he caressed your cheek. “I’m sorry for interrupting, babydoll. Please, go on, what were you thinking about?”

Your breath was getting shorter. “I think I love you.”

Before you could take a breath, his lips were colliding with yours. “I love you too.”

THE END! thankyou for loving this trilogy, this fic is over now

»»————-　♡　————-««

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filthforfriends · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter 21: Brave Enough

Authors Note

Word count: 7.9k

Read the rest here!

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s time to wake up,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

“I’d like to contest that.”

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

“Yes,” you sigh, eyes falling closed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you could do anything –”

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

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

“What would you do?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In a good way.”

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

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

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

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

“Does my hand go under your shorts?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Does it go into your panties?”

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

“Mhm,” he encourages.

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

“Show me what you mean,” he demands.

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

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

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

“I need to brush my teeth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a nervous wreck.”

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

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

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

“Our relationship.”

“Not my sobriety?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For you to trust me, y/n!”

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

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

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

“Void?”

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

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

“Are you fucking serious?”

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

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

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

“I’m gonna be late for work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you can never trust an addict.”

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

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

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

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

“Be brave a little longer,” he coaxes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow. So it's been a tough week?”

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

“But productive?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And his sobriety?”

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

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

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

“So that sounds like great news!”

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

“You mean comforted?”

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

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

“Yeah, from not dealing with it.”

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

“Basically.”

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

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

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

“No, I’m just not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“These fucking exhausting, weighty conversations!”

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

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

“Oh, really?”

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

“What were those fights about?”

“This! Me!”

“You?”

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

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

“What's best for me.”

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

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

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

“Because I can’t control him!”

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

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

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

“Well, no. I know he does.”

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

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

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

“I’m not miserable,” you bite.

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

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

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

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

“Not the anxiety, y/n.”

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

“Why are you unhappy?”

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

“‘Slept with’ as in…?”

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

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

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

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

“No, not at all.”

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

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

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

“I…guess.”

“Don’t guess.”

“Deep down inside somewhere, probably.”

“So is that it?”

“You’re the therapist.”

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

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

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything!”

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

“What if we break up?”

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

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

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

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

“Progressing?”

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

“Reminders of his substance abuse?”

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I get it, I get it.” Well, shit.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, man.”

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

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

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

“Damia,” you murmured.

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

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

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

-XOXO Eden

✧ The Sun is the Center of Everything Table of Contents

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oro-e-diamanti · 2 years ago

Note

8 PWEASE - female reader is on vacation with Dami and friends and the power goes out which is all fun and games when she is with everyone downstairs but when they all go to their own rooms to sleep she panics and can’t sleep and ends up knocking on on Damiano’s bedroom door with tears running down her face and says that she is afraid of the dark and he invites her in and distracts her from it being dark with some smutty-ness and perhaps a blindfold (“now it doesn’t matter if we can turn the lights on or not because I’m not letting you see anyway”)

Perhaps she turns to Damiano because he had noticed her being anxious about the power being out earlier and asked if she was okay then and she tried to play it cool but now she can’t and she needs him to comfort her and protect her

YOU ARE THE BEST🤘🏼

Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy it 💕

"I might be afraid of the dark."

Damiano + fluff / smut

The first crack of thunder catches you by surprise. You hadn’t been aware of any thunderstorms in the forecast – and you usually kept track – and yet, when lightning illuminates the room for a split second, there is no doubt about one being much too close to the house for your liking. The laughter of the group around you briefly makes room for “oooh”s and “aaah”s but that remains the extent of their reaction.

You’re a little more unsettled. You hide it quite well, you think, until you catch Damiano’s eye. His face displays worry, a question, but even when you smile at him and he smiles back but you can tell he’s not convinced. You’re glad he’s not saying anything, as another round of drinks is passed around and someone starts a game of beer pong. A rowdy night in with your friends. A bit of alcohol, some silly games, catching up, it’s all you need.

Until the lights go out. There’s silence for about half a second before everyone starts talking all at once. You’re barely able to make out anything at all as the fear creeps up in you. Someone lights a candle, several phones are being held up to shine some light, but the unsettling feeling stays in your chest. Someone – you can’t quite make out who – jumps out behind a sofa to scare everyone. It only seems to work on you, but you try to keep your composure. Yet, once again, Damiano’s eyes are on you.

“Guys, come on, it’s no fun in the dark, let’s go to bed, we’ve still got one more night tomorrow, yeah?”

There’s a few mumbles but in the end, everyone agrees. You think you’re quite happy to retire to your room, lucky enough to snatch up one of the single ones before everyone else had arrived. But now you’re in your pyjamas, under the covers in your bed, distant thunder rumbling, and all you can focus on is the fact that it’s dark. Too dark. Not a single tiny light, no other houses or street lamps illuminating the outside, not even a little red dot on one of the various electronics in the room. Nothing.

You try, you really do. But the darkness seems too obvious, even when you close your eyes, and you can’t stop thinking about it. So, with soft footsteps and your phone in your hand to shine the way, you leave your room. It’s Damiano’s door you find yourself knocking on. He opens up much quicker than expected.

“I might be afraid of the dark,” you confess immediately. For a moment, you’re almost glad you can’t really see him or anything else, you don’t want to know which facial expression accompanies your statement. You’re embarrassed enough as it is.

You flinch at his touch. You hadn’t seen it coming, both because of the darkness and because you’d averted your gaze. But as soon as you realise what is happening, you move into him and against him, letting him engulf you in his arms and pull you into his room, door falling shut behind you. He manouvers you into the bed and only when the moonlight coming from his window hits your face does he see the tears spilling from you eyes. He wipes them away with care before pulling you into his chest.

You can barely see his face, the light from the distant moon hitting him just enough to know that he’s looking back at you. Neither breaks the eye contact. You’re so focused on trying to make out the nuances of his iris that you’re only fleetingly aware of his hand moving upwards, tracing along your side, and you almost want to dare him to brush against your chest. Your own hand is on his face, thumb stroking along his cheek, and it’s you who makes the move.

The atmosphere in the room changes in an instant. There’s a connection between the two of you that doesn’t need words as your mouths meet. With his arm tightly wrapped around you, as if frantically afraid of letting go, he gives you the utmost feeling of safety. And when his tongue touches yours, he’s giving you quite a different feeling altogether on top of it too.

You don’t notice you’ve closed your eyes, getting lost in the sensation of his hands and his mouth on you, until you open them again just to be reminded that it’s dark, worryingly dark, so dark you can barely make out Damiano at all, as a cloud pushes in front of the moon and robs you off your last bit of light.

Damiano notices you struggling immediately. He only hesitates for a moment, then his shirt is off his body, but instead of expectig you to react to the new show of skin, he pulls you into a sitting position and wraps the fabric around your head.

“There. Now it doesn’t matter if the lights are out or not because I’m not letting you see anyway.”

The terror you felt only moments before almost immediately transforms into heightened anticipation. Everything happens all at once, so quickly you can barely wrap your head around it, and at the same time, every second lingers, letting you fall deeper and deeper into everything that is being done to you. You let him take the lead, let him undress you, kiss you, touch you, mouth on your breasts, hands spreading your thighs. You’re a mess of sighs and moans, and every single time your head threatens to remind you of your fears, he instinctively surprises you, a flick against your nipple, his tongue on your clit, a movement a little rougher than expected. When he’s on top of you, between your legs, and asks for your consent, you can’t do anything but shout out an enthusiastic yes that you’re sure travels through the house more than intended.

Damiano pushes into you carefully, slowly, but as soon as he realises you’re comfortable and on the verge of begging for more, he increases his speed. Your hands are clawing at him, nails digging into his back, and it feels like all of your senses are impossibly heightened by a lack of vision. And, somehow, it makes everything better. His body on yours and his breathing, intermittently interrupted by deep groans, cause you to come undone much sooner than expected. Your legs wrap around his waist as you moan loudly through your orgasm, clenching around him tightly, and he follows before you’ve fully come down.

You barely register him moving off you, softly cleaning you off, removing the blindfold, but your eyes stay closed as your breathing still rattles in your chest. When you finally open your eyelids again, you immediately notice. The light coming from the house next door. The little red dot on the tv screen on the wall. The low hum of electricity. You turn to Damiano, his face relaxed and smug.

“How long has the light been on again?”

“Since about two minutes after I blindfolded you,” he grins, quickly pressing a reassuring kiss to your lips. “But isn’t it much more fun to stay in the dark sometimes?”

#damiano david fic #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #damiano david fluff #damiano david smut #my writing #writing #blurbs #prompt blurb #prompt blurbs #damiano david blurb

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writingmaneskin · 2 years ago

Text

The Rest is History - A Damiano David Blurb

Pairings: Damiano David x Reader

Fluff

Words: 1.2k

Description: Will either of you be brave enough to be open about your feelings?

A/N: Still working on things, and life.

THE MAIN MASTERLIST

join the taglist || ko-fi || come chat

You could not remember a time when he wasn’t in your life.

Even looking back through family videos and pictures, there he was, always by your side.

It took you years, perhaps far too long to realize that you never wanted him to leave.

“Your head is in the clouds again.” Damiano joked, seeing that you couldn’t focus on the conversation happening backstage. You had joined them on the road for a couple of shows, to catch up and spend some much needed time with Damiano.

You looked at him all smiley and he smiled immediately too.

“What?” He asked, a note of self-consciousness in his voice.

“Nothing.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, just thinking.”

“Do you want to go out for a smoke?” He offered.

“Please, some fresh air will do wonders.”

You heard Vic say something to the others but couldn’t pay much attention to her words as Damiano put his hand on your lower back and warped all your attention immediately.

You walked side by side with him, his hand never leaving your lower back.

“Can I be honest?” He asked, lighting his cigarette before passing you the lighter.

“I will be very hurt if you stop being honest with me for some reason.”

He smiled.

“I think you are overworked and that you desperately need a break.”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” You replied.

He chuckled.

“I am used to this life.” He tried to argue.

“That doesn’t mean it’s good for you.”

“There’s only one puzzle piece missing from my life.” Damiano admitted.

“What is it?”

The door of the arena opened, Thomas coming out.

“It’s your turn in the makeup chair. Or we’ll be late.” Thomas announced.

Damiano’s smile looked sad but you both put out your cigarettes and he put his hand on your back again and all three of you walked back.

“This conversation is not over.” You kissed his cheek before he went to get all pretty for the show.

Your heart always threatened to leave your chest whenever he was performing - a wild mix of joy, anxiety and pride, as well as love trying to overwhelm you and take over.

You always had the best time at their shows and there was something special about being able to greet him as soon as he was off stage and hug him and just.. have that moment.

“They are so cute together.” You heard Thomas tell Vic and the comment caused you both joy and pain.

“When will you put him out of his misery?” Ethan winked at you, making you blush.

You noticed that Damiano was red too but didn’t say anything.

“I am not going to kill him, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

“Y/N loves me that much at least.” Damiano teased.

Your mouth worked faster than your brain.

“I love you more than you could imagine.” You confessed, but assumed that your words would be taken as friendly love, nothing romantic. You didn’t want to make Damiano feel uncomfortable.

No one said anything until Vic finally suggested you all go to McDonalds for the after show ritual.

“Are you okay?” Damiano asked, taking the seat next to you.

“Just a bit tired.” You lied, trying to avoid talking about the elephant in the room and your recent love confession.

“Can we talk soon?” He brushed his hand against yours.

“You’re talking now.” Vic tried to make it less awkward in her own way. It only made you blush again and Damiano looked tired of the shenanigans.

“Privately, Victoria.” He emphasised and you wondered what that was about and if it will end up with you crying at the end of the night.

“We’ll talk. I promise.”

“Good. I have had some things on my mind that I want to share with you.”

You caught an exchanged look between Vic and Thomas and Ethan nudging them to keep quiet as you got to the McDonalds drive through.

About two hours later, you were in your hotel room, Damiano awkwardly standing in the doorway.

“I won’t bite. Come in.” You encouraged him.

“I hope you won’t.” He chuckled.

“Well, I can bite if you want me to, but I promise I will keep to myself.” You tried to be casual with your flirting and caught a smirk on his face as he sat down on your bed.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while because I feel like this conversation is long overdue.”

“Okay, please go ahead.” You could feel the anxiety building up in your stomach but there was nothing much that you could do except wait and see what the love of your life would say and try to live with whatever new reality is sprung on you.

“I’ve had feelings for you for a very long time.” Damiano started and stopped as soon as he saw the shocked expression on your face.

“What?”

“I have had feelings for you for as long as I can remember and it’s unfair on both of us if I just keep them for myself.”

You pinched yourself discreetly, hoping that this wasn’t just some trick that your brain might be playing on you.

“What do you mean you’ve had feelings for me for as long as you could remember?”

“I mean exactly what I said.” Damiano said calmly, but you could see the heartache starting to threaten. He thought you were rejecting him.

“And you never said anything?”

“No. I didn’t think it’s worth it. I always thought you could do better.”

You took a step closer to him.

“And what would happen if I were to tell you that I feel the same way?” You spoke quietly.

A look of pure shock went through his face.

“I would assume that you are kidding me.”

“You’ve known me my entire life, Damiano David. I would not lie to you, let alone about this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I felt like you could do better.”

He looked too stunned to speak.

“I love you.” You cupped his face very gently and felt his hands on your lower back, pulling you closer.

“I love you.” He smiled at you and you could see the tears coming to his eyes.

You walked downstairs to the lobby area hand in hand, smiles gracing both of your faces.

“Do not start with the “I told you so.””. Damiano told Vic as she was opening her mouth. Ethan and Thomas started laughing as Vic looked almost scandalized even though it was what she was going to say.

“I want to know everything!” She said after recovering for a moment.

“We spoke.” You smiled, not holding back on the heart-eyes you were giving Damiano.

“Aaaaaaaand?” Vic nudged, wanting to know more.

“The rest is history.” Damiano winked at her.

This new, old love, this new and old situation and the space to be open about your feelings made you feel free, which in turn brought such joy that you kept pinching yourself to make sure that it’s all real.

“Indeed, the rest is history.” You smiled and pulled your new boyfriend for a kiss.

--------------------------

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abiiors · 2 years ago

Note

Can i request more Damiano David angst please? 😅🥺

Hey, thanks for the ask! I hope you like it :)

Consolation Prize // D.D.

Damiano David x Reader

Warnings: Minors dni, it’s an FWB situation so it’s 18+, he’s a bit of an asshole in this one. Also just angst with no happy ending.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: I didn’t mean to rhyme the last lines but I’m happy about the coincidence. Reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated :)

Masterlist

There’s a voice in your head screaming at you to not do it. Yet as another knock sounds at the door, your feet carry you involuntarily. You know who it is, there’s no need to peep through the keyhole but you can’t resist it. You can’t resist taking this one glimpse at him before he’s inevitably going to break your heart again.

‘Hi,’ you greet as you open to door. ‘Come in.’

This has become routine at this point—Damiano texts “U up?”. You tell yourself to ignore the message, to blow him off with some excuse, yet every single time you cave just as the second text comes in.

‘Hey, baby,’ he greets in return, presses a rough kiss on your mouth.

You used to dream of these kisses, dream of his mouth on every single inch of your body. You even imagined the gentleness of them once. But whatever this is—being fuck buddies, friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it—this has slowly sucked the life out of those dreams.

Yet you can’t stop going back to him.

‘You’re thinking about something,’ he frowns and for a moment his voice is laced with genuine concern. ‘Are you not in the mood? You know we can always reschedule this,’ he points between the two of you.

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in your chest and you have to actually turn around to get a hold of yourself. Reschedule this as if it’s just another appointment; clinical and unavoidable.

‘No no,’ you smile at him and hope he doesn’t notice your dead eyes. ‘Work has been a bit stressful lately, that’s all.’

It’s an easy lie and you know he’ll never question it. He hardly knows what you do for work, there’s a one-in-a-million chance he’ll actually want to know what’s stressing you out at your job.

‘Well then,’ he grins, ‘you know what’s good for stress.’

And that’s how it starts this time. He trails kisses down your neck, makes his way down to your cleavage and tries to leave a few hickeys there. You close your eyes and imagine a different reality—one where he mumbles I love you after each kiss, one where he tells you how obsessed he is with you, how he can’t keep his hands off you. One where he’s so gentle with you that you might as well be made of glass.

But that’s not what this is. Damiano has always been very clear about what this is.

You’ve got the motions of this memorised. You take each other’s clothes off; leave a trail of them to the bedroom. Despite the maelstrom of thoughts in your head, your body betrays you again and again. It always reacts to his touch, always craves more of him. It wants him never to let go.

But there’s always a ghost in the room; the spectre that is “the other woman”. He thinks you’re unaware of her but lately, it seems you’ve spent more time thinking about her than you’ve thinking about him. He longs for her, you long for him and yet you can’t let go.

Is she the other woman? A voice chides in your head and you fake a moan to cover up the gasp.

Even when he’s buried inside you, you know you’re not the one he’s thinking about. You’re never the one he’s thinking about; it’s always her, it’s always been her. But he can’t get her, so his consolation prize is you.

Even when his face is tucked in the crook of your neck, it’s her body he’s dreaming of. Only a fool wouldn’t notice how her name is always on the tip of his tongue, just fighting to get out.

‘Dami?’ you ask once you lay side-by-side, panting and catching your breath, ‘will you stay the night?’

His eyes widen a bit and then he laughs awkwardly. ‘You know I can’t, baby. I’ve got, uh…Thomas wants to show me something.’

‘Of course,’ you smile.

It’s always Thomas or Ethan or Vic, it’s never you though. He makes a move to get out of bed and suddenly you’re hit with a barrel of conflicting feelings.

You want him gone. You want to beg him to stay. You never want to see him ever again. You want to wake up next to him every day.

As he starts to get dressed, you grab the robe that’s hanging on the bedpost. This is the part you dread the most—the aftermath. You try not to seem too eager for him to get out. If he lingers even just a little…

‘That was fun,’ he smiles and you can already feel the awkwardness radiating off of him. None of you knows how to say goodbye yet your reasons for it could not be more different from each other. You hold the door open for him, smile a tight-lipped smile, go along with the motions when he gives you a goodbye kiss.

He takes two steps towards the lift, then stops and turns around abruptly. This is it, you think, he’s reconsidered. He wants to stay.

‘Can I see you again tomorrow?’ he asks and your heart dies a gruesome death for the millionth time.

Just set me free, you want to scream at him, why won’t you just set me free? Instead, you nod and force a smile.

‘Tomorrow works for me.’

#damiano david #damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #damiano david angst #damiano david imagine #damiano david fic #damiano david fanfiction #maneskin #maneskin x reader #this is angst #just angst #no happy ending #minors do not interact #writing requests

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jackietorrance · 2 years ago

Text

Yes, smile

Damiano: Why do you let me win when we race up the stairs? You’re the faster one. Y/n: Erm… it’s nice see your smile when you win! later Damiano: They're probably just staring at my ass, aren't they. Victoria: Yeah, probably.

#damiano david #damiano david x reader #damiano david x you #maneskin #damiano david x gn reader

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malina-33 · 1 year ago

Text

Femme Like You - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You are the new tour manager for Arctic Monkeys during The Car era. You are practically the only girl in the team, also younger than the rest (27 y.o.), so your skills are immediately called into question. In particular, by the frontman who is not used to being led by a woman.

Word count: 10,2k

Warnings: swearing, emotional swing (is it even a warning?), kind of voyeurism (slight), age gap

A/N: Dear friends, hi!! I know, I know that I've promised you to update the fic every 3 weeks, and the disappeared for 1.5 months, but I spontaneously found a job, so there was very little time. But the chapter is much longer and with some interesting collaborations ;) I'll hope you enjoy them!

And write down what do you think if I make a description of not only the whole work, but also the chapter before each new part? Or is it better to keep the intrigue till the end?

In any case, I look forward to your feedback, it's soooo much important for me. I won't promise to return before the end of September, but I'll do my best not to delay. I already have an interesting plot for the next chapters, you should like it💔

*guys, English isn't my first language so if I have (and I know I have lol) any grammar/logic mistakes don't hesitate to tell me :)

The first week after meeting with the group flew by unnoticed. You dealt with the documentation, understanding how necessary it is, no matter how much you hated it, phoned the representatives of Ashton Gate stadium, made sure that everything was okay and confirmed the presence of the group and even tried to check the weather since the gig would be held outside. However, it turned out to be a little more difficult with the transport company. Apparently, James forgot to warn them about the temporary removal of his duties, so you had to spend time clarifying the situation and explaining who you are. It seemed that your hands-on approach was excessive, because you were trying to control everything in one time, but only due to the feeling of extra responsibility.

Steven, as promised, sent the contacts of the guys and important people from the technical crew, so now your phone had the names of Jamie Cook, Nick O'Malley, Matthew Helders and Alex "dickhead" Turner among others. 19 years old you would definitely envy yourself. So when you got a message while cooking pasta for dinner on Saturday night, you already knew it was from the drummer and not from an anonymous online scammer.

Matthew Helders: "good evening, Miss Y/S! I hope you aren't busy. We'll wait you on the soundcheck on Monday at 2 pm in Domino, need your advice :)"

You almost overcooked Carbonara bacon rereading the message. "Do they really need my advice?" you whispered, furrowing your brows "About what?". But the only answer was:

You: "Sure! Do I need to take some 12% cider?"

Matthew Helders: "you better not show up without a package lol"

Immediately followed by:

Matthew Helders: "just kidding! We are waiting only for you, but in the company of cider it will be even better)"

You chuckled, surprised at how quickly Matt went from formal Miss at the beginning of the conversation to smiles and lols at the end. To tell the truth, you still didn't fully understand how to behave with them. On the one hand, you are their manager and have a certain influence, as well as subordination. Steven and James don't have it, although they are "higher" in position, but they've been friends for half of a life, and you are a completely new person. On the other hand, in this area there is no place for strict formalities, especially since the guys don't look like those who would comply with them. After all they were big kids no matter how mature and pretentious they could look on stage, and you clearly felt it. Maybe your company will help them to relax even more, so there won't be any awkwardness and you will naturally find an edge where all of you will feel comfortable and which no one will cross.

With those thoughts, Carbonara and Rosé you spent your Saturday night watching your favorite series "La Piovra". You got used to such calm and quiet evenings. The era of parties until the morning has passed in the university years, and it’s not that you don’t go to clubs now, it’s just that the older you become the better you began to appreciate moments of silence. Not to be bored alone with yourself is the most valuable skill that you have acquired in your life. Having lived first with your parents for a long time, then getting married early at the age of 20 and having lived with your husband for 3 years, you were essentially not left alone with yourself. Having discovered over time that you feel absolutely nothing for the person whom you said "yes" to in the registry office, you were horrified and frightened to say at least. You thought that you get married once for a lifetime, but it turned out that happy endings exist only in fairy tales. That period of despondency, depression and eventual deepening into work gave its results. Major labels began to notice you, inviting you to musical projects with famous bands such as Maneskin. You worked with them for 1.5 years, leaving after their heyday at the Eurovision, realizing that you can’t give them more. That was your second decision to leave, but unlike the divorce, it didn't bring you much suffering. You understood that you and the group gave each other a lot, and although the parting was bitter, everyone understood that it was necessary. You still remained friends with the guys and periodically wrote off to meet. You planned to go to their concert, but couldn't find the time. And after your assignment to the Monkeys it became even more harder to shedule.

After the divorce you didn't have a serious relationship, instead you had a dream job, money, a car, a country house and even a corgi Grapes. You weren't afraid of the future, loved the time in seclusion and found inner peace by meditating on the production of cider, which was your unusual but very tasty hobby. Were you fully happy, though? Wouldn't you like to cross the threshold of the house and be met not by a dog's barking, but by a warm kiss on the forehead and a quiet "how was your day"? You probably wanted to, but it was hard to admit, especially considering that the fear of intimacy sat somewhere deep inside, not letting you forget the disappointment that you experienced when you removed the engagement ring from your finger. Although you remained friends who didn't hold evil against each other, the bitterness of your marriage was almost impossible to remove from the memories.

But for now, your head has been occupied by the sudden question of where to put Grapes for the duration of the tour...

Monday morning was sunny and peaceful, you woke up in a surprisingly good mood, put on your make-up, put on your favorite lime flared jeans, loaded a case of apple drink from the basemеnt into the car, patted Grapes and drove off to the studio. The road took about an hour, so during this time you managed to phone your father. You haven't talked much lately due to your workload, and now was almost the only time of the day when you were relatively free. You put the speaker phone mode, listening to the slightly hoarse voice of the man, without being distracted from the road.

"Hello my dear! How are you?"

"Hi daddy, I'm fine, going to work right now"

"My busy bee, James has already told me about your progress" you could hear him chuckle, coughing a little. You could only guess what Ford said to your father, because you spoke to him only once in these 2 weeks, when you recalled him after meeting with the group. And not that your story was very colorful. Therefore, the guys or Steven contacted him, and from this point of view, you couldn't imagine what they possibly come up with towards you.

"He assured me the boys liked you"

"Oh, really?" you said on the exhale, squeezing your hands on the steering wheel tightly.

"Yes, James is pleased with you. Well done, babe!" you melted under his words. It felt like you were a little girl again who drew a family picture that was hung on the refrigerator, even though mom and dad looked like monsters.

"Thank you daddy, I'm very happy to be with them actually"

"Of course, in such a company of men. Should I be jealous? 'Cause I looked through their photos on the Internet" dad said proudly, to which you burst out laughing, stopping at a traffic light.

"Dad, c'mon, no! They're too old for me" you laughed.

"10 years are not a big deal. Anyway, your choice. Just don't forget to eat please, I know how tough you work now. Otherwise you'll get drunk on your cider. God, how did you even manage to get into this alcohol sphere..." the man groaned in prostration. You rolled your eyes, but still smiled without answering. You got used to your father's fast flow of different thoughts.

"And don't roll your eyes, little naughty one! I care about you. So if they hurt you, you know who to call, right?"

"Oi, who will offend whom first" you retorted defiantly.

"Okay okay, I won't interrupt anymore. Kiss Grapes for me. I love you"

"And I love you very much, hello mom"

"I'll pass it on, bye!"

You turned off the call, fully focusing on the road. After talking with your parents, you always felt warm in your soul, so up to the studio you didn't leave a smile when you sang songs from the radio under your breath.

You arrived exactly at 2 o'clock, as agreed with Matt, but when you saw a few more cars in the parking lot in addition to the familiar Cadillac, you realized that the guys had been here for a long time. You must have looked a little ridiculous in a business suit and heels and a wooden box under your arm, but you didn't have other choice. Holding the car key in your mouth and trying to press the button at the same time, you clumsily closed the trunk with your leg. A purse was still dangling somewhere on your shoulder, and sunglasses had slipped from head to the bridge of your nose. "Must be an amazing picture to observe" you thought tiredly "Oh, if only Matt were here".

But before you had time to think about it, you heard a soft laugh behind you. You turned around sharply, noticing the frontman smoking alone near the entrance. You spat the key into the box, finally pressing the right button, and shouted

"And how long do you look?"

"I came exactly at the most interesting moment" man smiled, taking a puff.

You heavily crossed the entire parking lot, approaching him. Turner, having finished smoking a cigarette and throwing it into a nearby trash can, silently took the box from your hands.

"Hi, Y/N" he greeted you wheezing nicotine in the lungs.

"Hi," you frowened a little, but slowly added "Alex".

Calling him by his first name was... Unusual. A week ago the appeal to him was exclusively Mr. Turner, but today he was the first to break this line. "Well, apparently, we will both have problems with the boundaries of what is acceptable" bitterly flashed through your thoughts.

You both entered the building - Alex with a box in front, you behind holding the door. The way was silent. You wanted to say something to break this crystal quietness of his, but by the time you mustered up the courage, you stopped at the door 13A. The vocalist pushed it with his left shoulder, squeezing the alcohol forward, and you trotted along.

As soon as you and Alex entered the sound studio, you were immediately greeted with whistling and loud hooting.

"Look who's here, Miss Y/N"

"Hi, guys! I'm here with gifts as promised" you smiled broadly.

Alex at this time put the box on the table and immediately took one bottle for himself.

You noticed that there were Tyler and Tom in the studio as well, so you mentally praised yourself for taking bottles with a margin. You didn't know them personally yet, but was willing to change it. Turner introduced you to the men, and surprisingly you didn't hear his usual sneer in the voice.

"So, welcome Y/N Y/S, she's our manager for the summer before America starts and James gets back"

"Happy to finally meet you!" you were the first to extend your hand to Tyler, which he shook gently, smiling affably, and then to Tom. But he intercepted your hand, kissing your knuckles and making you laugh.

"Mutually, Miss" Rowley said enchanted.

"And she makes her own awesome cider, get one" Matt ordered businesslike, raising his voice from behind the drum kit.

"Yeah, there is enough for everyone, don't hesitate to take"

Evidently you arrived during the break, and before that they had already rehearsed a bit. You were wondering what kind of advice they need from you. The thought that they just needed cider you pushed back with a grin. But Alex, as if reading your thoughts, leisurely started speaking leaning on the table and holding a drink.

"Well, thanks for the cider, but that's not what we called you for. Since you're such a big fan of My Propeller, we discussed it here and decided that it's possible to put one on the set list for a couple of times. So listen to how it sounds, maybe have some ideas or whatevah" he was trying to sound casual, not attaching importance to his words for you.

"I'll do my best!" you almost jumped from such news.

Jamie chuckled audibly, running his fingers over the guitar. You sat down on the couch as Matt tapped the rhythm with his sticks and the melody began.

Seductive. The first association that came to your mind when you heard the intro of this song. It was your favorite from Humbug for sure and one of the band's all time favorites. Alex never told in any interview what was the secret of the lyrics, and probably that was the reason it attracted you even more. The guys played it selflessly, as if there hadn't been those decades that they hadn't performed it. You liked how they gave themselves to the process, even if it was just a rehearsal. They were in simple t-shirts and Matt was proudly wearing pineapple shorts, but you could swear, a real concert was unfolding right in front of you.

When Alex started singing you tried to hide the goosebumps as best as you could, but it hardly worked out well. His voice flowed melodically, not betraying a hint of wheezing or breaking, which could arise due to the age. He closed his eyes, tightly gripping the microphone stand, and moved his feet to the beat, slightly ridiculous, but at the same time gracefully. Throughout the song, you didn’t take your eyes off the group for a minute, sometimes singing along to the words, pulling the last syllable of

Coax me out my law

And have a spin of my propeller

When the song ended, you clapped and Nick even made a mock bow.

“I don’t know how objective my assessment will be, because apart from the words of delight I have nothing to add” you honestly admitted. It seemed to you that you heard Alex's quiet "As I said", but Matt was quick to interrupt him asking you "Actually, we have already decided to play it in Bristol, but the question is where to chip in. We'll definitely not start with this one, and the outro is already completed, so..."

You thought a little, trying to understand what motives My Propeller reminds you of, and then the penny dropped.

"Pretty Visitors!" you exclaimed louder than you should have because your words echoed through the silent studio.

"Smooth interlude from Pretty Visitors, yeah, not bad actually" Alex quickly developed your idea, turning to Matt, as if asking "Do you mind?", but the drummer only closed his eyes approvingly. It seemed that they didn't need any words at all, they could understand each other with guitar riffs and drum brakes. Their connection, it was amazing, honed to automatism for past 20 years. They were like scientists in a chemistry lab mixing potions together in an attempt to make a new elixir. It was magic to come true and watching this process was so intimate that you involuntarily felt the heat on your cheeks, as if you were engaged in voyeurism.

***

The hours in the studio flew by. Fortunately for you, the guys decided to surprise fans with the return of Mardy Bum which will be the opener. The exact setlist for Bristol was confirmed at the end of the rehearsal, bringing back Teddy Picker and The View From The Afternoon as well. So looking at the perfect 21 songs, you could only imagine what they would save for London. Originally you were going to visit their concert in your hometown, you bought tickets as soon as sales were announced, but after James's call you easily gave the ticket to a friend, saying that you had won a jackpot.

Tom and Tyler have already left and the five of you are left. You were sitting on a soft chair, moved from the corner of the room, and the guys opposite on the sofas. The boys had laid down their guitars and you were leding a peaceful conversation about life, since the studio rental time ended only in an hour. You told them about your career in the industry, Maneskin and the part time projects you've been working on lately, omitting the details of your divorce because you thought it was too early for them to immerse themselves in such personal aspects of your life.

"By the way, Vic is your big fan and Alex in particular" you giggled, remembering the way drunk Maneskin bassist told you that she would like to sleep with Turner. Those were the carefree times of your youth you warmly remembered.

"Really?" Matt raised his eyebrows as he sipped his seemingly endless bottle of cider "You still have their contacts, right?"

"Yeah, sure, we even text each other occasionally" you quipped.

"And you didn't say you were working with us?" Heldres was surprised.

"Actually, somehow it didn't seem possible" you lowered your gaze, "I mean what would it look like? "Hey guys, look who's here, I now manage the Monkeys btw?" - so what?"

You could tell by the Cheshire smile on Matt's bristly face that this was exactly how he thought.

"Oh no, Matthew, don't you-"

"Oh yes, darling, dial FaceTime, you'll show them our doll" the man neighed, turning to Alex, who had been sitting quietly on the couch until this moment, and fidgeted in place after the suggestion.

"For God's sake, Matt, what a kindergarten behavior" the vocalist howled irritably, rolling his eyes, "I don't even remember their names".

The idea of making fun of Turner a little for the morning case with the box and taking revenge seemed to you unexpectedly delightful. Your hand automatically sank into your pants pocket, deftly pulling it out into the light and finding the right WhatsApp chat.

"Don't worry, you just have to say hi to Vic, I'm sure you'll be fine" you sang sweetly, glancing slyly at Matt, who chuckled approvingly, glad that you supported his idea.

Alex only cursed at this and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. Either from nerves, or putting his hair in order before the call.

You moved from your seat to the couch between Alex and Matt, gesturing for Nick and Jamie to join. You put your hand in front of you so only your face was visible in the camera frame, waiting for one of the guys to take the call. It might have been a little ill-advised to call like this without warning on a workday evening, but anyway it was already too late, as the beeps trailed in a string of sounds. You hoped that they didn't have a concert today, in any other case, one of them would definitely pick up the phone from you. And by a happy coincidence, it was Vic who ended up on your screen.

"What the hell, Miss Boogie, are you really occasionally calling after all this time of silence?" despite Victoria de Angelis's accusatory words, she sounded playful. She was a little disheveled and with a bright blush on her face. People were walking randomly with the string interruptions in the background. Apparently, the guys were at the soundcheck at one of the venues, and Vic recently finished playing.

Four pairs of eyes openly stared at you with undisguised interest after hearing the nickname, demanding an answer, but you just mouthed "later".

"Awww, sweetheart, and I'm happy to hear you again too!" you said with an ironic smile.

"I have a lot of news for you, and I will definitely call you in private soon"

"Are you not alone? Who's with you?" the girl even moved closer to the camera in an attempt to see something.

"Well, I have a little surprise for you. Actually four surprises, but one of them you'll find really special" you said conspiratorially, looking around at the guys who were still out of the picture. Alex sat to your right, trying to portray the most distant look, as if everything that was happening was nothing more than baby talk for him.

"Darling, if you have a group orgy without me, then I will be offended and drop the call" the bassist said threateningly, wiping her forehead with a towel that was hung on her shoulder.

You just burst out laughing "Ok ok, I'm not languishing you anymore. I hope you're ready. Boys, say hi to Vics" and you finally moved the camera further so that Matt, Nick and Jamie, who were sitting to your left, got into the camera frame, Alex's appearance you saved for a dessert.

The musician's reaction exceeded all your expectations. At first she narrowed her eyes, bringing the phone even closer to face, and then she widened them with a loud squeal, jumping up from her seat.

"What the hell, Y/N! What the actual fuck, you're a shitty mutherfucker!!!" she covered her mouth with her hand, chaotically moving the phone in different directions. Apparently, other members of the group came running to her scream, as you heard the voice of Damiano asking what happened.

"What happened?" she repeated "The fucking Arctic Monkeys are sitting next to Y/N!" answering a question off-camera and stabilizing the phone. Now you could clearly see the vocalist leaning over her shoulder, Thomas to the side and Ethan slightly behind.

Finally, the men next to you decided to introduce themselves "Hey, guys, what's new?" Matt said smiling to the camera, Jamie and Nick just waved their hands in a friendly manner.

"Oh my God, what's going on" Vic, still dumbfounded, spoke with a face of complete amazement. Damiano, who quickly figured out the whole situation and realized that Vic was unlikely to be able to communicate normally now, carefully took the phone from her hands.

"Hi, Y/N, long time no see! Hi, boys, how fresh you are" the frontman winked. The words "for your age" were suggested mutely, but David left them behind the scenes. The men next to you just laughed quietly at this remark and saluted the Italian boy.

"Vic, that's not all yet, look who's next to me" wanting to finally finish off your friend, you moved the camera to the side, revealing Alex's presence, who was already sitting with a polite smile on his face, leaning on the sofa armrest.

"Hi, love" Turner murmured hoarsely, turning on his usual charisma. You were surprised how quickly he went from "fuck off everyone" to his stage persona. Indeed, a skill acquired over the years.

De Angelis, after looking at the camera for just a second, squealed even harder than the first time, which you even grimaced a little, because in a quiet studio it sounded deafening.

The camera was still held by Damiano, but the girl in the frame could be seen doubled over, holding back cries of happiness. Her guys just laughed out loud at this, knowing full well what a strong fan of Alex she was.

"Y/N, I'm going to fucking kill you, I'll strap your ass so you can't sit still for another week, what are you doing to me?" Vic didn't let go of expressions, which made the men next to you shamelessly laugh, even Turner smiled predatoryly.

"Holy shit, you're real" the girl muttered in one breath.

Her adoration entertained Alex. Celebrities fangirling celebrities wasn't an unknown story for Alex, so the way Vic behaved didn't annoy him, but brought a feeling of sincere pleasure from what was happening.

"It would be strange if I wasn't, mhm?" the man grunted, changing the position - now he rested elbows on his knees, bringing the face closer to your phone. You could smell his light apple scent from the cider you both drank and the cigarette halo that soaked into all of the frontman's clothes.

Damiano finally decided to take control over the situation by turning the camera completely on himself.

"So, Y/N, if you wanted to surprise Vic, then you succeeded 100%! But we are now at soundcheck, and we don't have much time, and she" nodding towards the bassist "still needs to be brought to her senses. We were extremely happy to hear from you, babe. Call us when you are free and tell us everything in detail. Miss you very much!"

"Guys, me too! Love ya, see you at Glasto!"

"Wait! Take a screenshot!" Vic's desperate exclamation came from Damiano's left side.

He made a focused face, looking for the right buttons, while you and the men simultaneously smiled at the camera.

"Send it to the chat" you asked, ending the call and blowing a virtual kiss. You obviously cut off Vic's "I love you" without being entirely sure it was addressed to you.

The studio immediately froze in deafening silence. You put your phone down on the coffee table, still smiling.

"That was a real buzz, they're cute" Matt said leaning back on the couch. The mood of the guys clearly improved by this little conversation. You were glad that you could somehow diversify their evening after a productive and exhausting day. Even Alex stopped keeping his always compressed lips and frowning eyebrows.

"So, Miss Boogie, right?" Jamie began slyly, reminding you of your infamous nickname.

An approving "ooooo" reverberated around the room, from which you hid behind your palms.

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget" you muttered from your hiding place.

"C'mon, we're intrigued already" Nick reached out to you through Matt, gently taking your hands away from your face.

Jamie suddenly started chanting your name, encouraging you to reveal this terrible secret, and Matt whistled as if Sheffield FC had just scored a goal.

"God, okay, just shut up please" you gave up.

The four men took more comfortable positions in anticipation of your story.

"In fact, there is nothing special in this story, it's just stupid. When Maneskin was approved for Eurovision, we went to celebrate, how can we not. It was in Milan. We got very drunk in a bar and went for a walk around the city. It was about 3 in the morning, and to entertain ourselves we played Truth or Dare. The most banal thing that could be, but nothing better came to mind. And I chose Dare, 'cause everyone else only cowardly told their secrets. So Vic asked me to dance for a minute on the street to any song that a passerby would name. Well, since at such time you are unlikely to meet any adequate passerby, we only found a beggar in the square. I don’t know how old he was, but the first song that he remembered was Boogie Wonderland" at this point you made a dramatic pause, "so yes, I had to dance to this song at night in front of other poor people who came up to us. Since then they call me Miss Boogie. Everyone is satisfied now, having fun, huh?"

You intentionally crossed your arms in insult, surreptitiously watching the laughing band.

"I bet there's a video" Matt said cheekily.

"Yes, there is, but you'll never see it!" you retorted quickly, glaring at the drummer.

"Your hot cheeks make me want to see this video even more" Nick teased tapping Matt on the shoulder.

"You know what," Alex suddenly announced, "choose any song you want. We play it, and you show the video"

You could swear your jaw was somewhere on the floor.

"Woah, did you decide to go all-in?" Matt asked, also not expecting such a generous offer "Be careful, otherwise you will have to play a Taylor Swift song"

"Ouch, why do you think I like her?"

"Who doesn't like her?"

"Your truth" you nodded approvingly.

"I meant our song. We'll perform it at the concert" Turner interrupted your dialogue, looking at you testily from under his eyelashes.

There was a slight silence, which you broke with a heavy sigh.

"Wow, okay, this is getting interesting" you muttered, leaning back on the couch like Helders had done earlier. The three men to your left looked at each other in surprise, waiting for an answer, while you've been thinking, looking at the frontman.

"Certain Romance," you easily stated, "I want this one"

"Your wish is my command, Miss Boogie," he joked without any hint of smile, standing up "you guys remember how to play it, don't you?"

The guys looked at each other dumbfounded, unable to find words for such a drastic change in the behavior of the vocalist, but after a discordant series of affirmative nods, they received a condescending smile from him.

"Well, that's great, there's still time to rehearse. I propose Sheffield!" Alex said solemnly, thrusting his hands into the pockets.

"Al, ru ok?" Matt raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"All right, man" Turner said artificially.

"This house is a circus indeed" swirled through your head. Alex's behavior was defiant. Emerging into conflict. Literally a minute ago everything was peace and quiet, and now he, like a proud peacock, was arranging a show for you at the level of a cheap soap opera.

"No, but seriously, let's even organize a lottery, since Y/N has such an influence on the setlist" Alex didn't let up.

"Come on, pipe down, you suggested it yourself" Nick intervened carefully, not wanting to stir up the smoldering coals of the conflict.

"And I think all of you are into this idea, aren't you?" Turner didn't raise his low, heavily accented baritone, but the underlying toxicity in his tone was evident, "oh, even better, let's ask our Italian friends for advice! Let's get their opinion and her video as well".

"Alexander, smoke?" you stood up decisively from the couch, grabbing your purse and phlegmatically glancing at the wooden cider box you'd probably have to leave in the studio. But you couldn’t leave the guys in such an atmosphere, so out of courtesy you promised to return again.

"Y/N, no problem, see you before Bristol! Send the screen to our group, 'cause I'm getting jealous for these Italians" Matt gave you an encouraging wink in the end, and you certainly promised to do it tonight.

"They'll kill each other"

"He doesn't stand a chance"

Jamie and Matt said at the same time as the door closed behind you.

Alex imposingly walked ahead, not hurrying anywhere. He politely said goodbye to the security guard, noting that the rental period had already come to an end. Almost bowing, he opened the door to the street for you, artificially gallantly holding it with his hand, still making a show from every gesture, which for some reason made you feel disgusted. You were counting on working with middle-aged men, accomplished musicians, but it feels like you are talking to teenagers.

Damp cold air from the river hit your red cheeks, which made you wrap yourself in a jacket more tightly. Alex took out a pack of Marlboro, offering you one, but nodding to himself, removed it, remembering your words a week ago practically at the same place.

"Well?" he said with a cigarette in his mouth, lighting the filter.

The sky was overcast with a milky haze of fog, which wasn't uncommon for these places, a weak wind was blowing, but not a single sound from the road was heard, which made you hear sparks from ignited tobacco hiss like champagne bubbles, falling on the asphalt.

Alex exhaled noisily, squinting at you with his eyes. His face was faintly lit by the flame of a cigarette, but even in such low light, it was noticeable that his gaze was completely blank. "Amazingly indifferent and deep eyes at the same time. It's impossible to tell anything from them" you thought. Or maybe he was like this only with unpleasant people to him, who you apparently were. You can’t even imagine the way these eyes changed on stage "Where are you real, Alexander?". But instead of asking this, you just threw your head back, tiredly closing your eyelids, showing with your whole appearance how absurd the situation is.

"Alex," there wasn't any visible point to call him Mr. Turner even though you were annoyed "I thought we made a deal, didn't we?"

"Really? When?" his voice sounded even more affected than in the studio, despite the fact that now the man spoke rather quietly and slowly. Or maybe even a whisper would be loud in this ringing silence.

"I just don't understand what the problem is" you continued, as if you didn't hear his words.

"I don't see it either, Miss Y/S"

You raised your eyebrows high as you asked a silent question, which made Alex smirk slightly. Taking a puff, he began to explain to you with the intonation of a parent teaching a child not to put his fingers in the socket.

"Listen, I won't hide it, you brought some chaos to our tour. This is different from your direct duties though - to solve all the problems on our way. But you're a stranger who stirred up our peace and foundation. I was initially against this idea, but James left me no choice. You are undoubtedly an educated young lady, and probably from a moral point of view, I sound like a scoundrel now-"

"You sound unprofessional, Alex. You only make me feel contempt, and I don't care about any moral side"

The frontman looked at you from under his brows, taking out a second cigarette in a row from the pack, waiting for a further reaction, but inside you was a frozen magma that didn't want to break out, muffled by self-esteem. For now.

His words contradicted his behavior. In the morning he carries your boxes and asks for a song advice, and in the evening he gives out this shit. If women's logic is ridiculed by society, then men do not have it at all.

“You know what, when James offered me this job, I was damn excited and proud that I would be working with a team like yours. I was on a cloud nine. But you, Alex, you're just a spoiled boy in the body of a 37-year-old man who hasn't overplayed his ambitions and thinks that his subtle nature is so fragile to understand that you need to hide behind the facade of an asshole so that normal people with good intentions don't crawl into your soul. You are cowardly and arrogant!"

You were breathing heavily, and the words "fool fool fool" stretched on repeat in a red line behind your eyes.

You didn't even understand how they escaped from your lips, absolutely thoughtlessly. You even instinctively wanted to raise a hand to cover your mouth, but pulled yourself back in time, deciding to play to the end. Show after show.

Alex hadn't raised a cigarette to his face during your tirade, so that the wick was almost dead in his fingers. You intensively looked at each other without stopping, and at some point it seemed to you that fear flashed in his pupils. Fear of the revealed truth. However, they were covered with a thick veil of indifference to what was happening in a second, and he finally took the last puff, throwing the butt right on the road.

"Miss Y/S, it seems that you have to go" the musician said unemotionally.

You took one last burning look at his features and, without saying a word, turned around towards your car. How ironic, a week ago you left each other in roughly the same sequence of activities - studio, cider, parking lot, but under completely different circumstances.

Slamming the door shut, you sharply revved, not bothering to warm up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot with a clang of tires. Burning tears of resentment gushed from your eyes, covering the already foggy road in front, but you didn't pay attention.

Your cooperation has just begun, and you have already swept on an emotional swing. Only in the morning you were driving in a car towards the sun and rejoicing at the warm words of your dad, and in the evening you return home, wiping the salty paths with the back of your hand from your face.

You were never embarrassed by tears, you cried out almost all of them during a divorce, but if they dripped from your eyes today, then there was a reason for that. Your parents taught you that after rain there is always a rainbow, after tears there is always peace of mind, you need to be able to live through any emotions in order to turn them into your power later.

***

You haven't seen the boys since that evening until today's early departure for Bristol. Of course, you communicated on all sorts of organizational issues during this time and there was no visible tension, especially since they didn't hear about your quarrel with Alex. You were more than sure that he would not tell his friends about that incident. This is what infringes on him, and therefore makes him weaker, which he couldn't allow.

All these days you have wondered what was the reason for such a sharp behavior, however you couldn't really delve into yourself. Why exactly you were crying - from resentment, overstrain or just an emotional outburst, it was also difficult to understand. Perhaps all together. Over the past month, from your first conversation with Ford to recent events, your life has changed 180 degrees, so it's no surprise that your psyche gave a little glitch.

You've comforted yourself with routines though — setting Grapes up with a friend until your next visit to London, inviting your parents over for dinner to tell you all the details, packing your suitcase for the tour, checking out all the technical stuff, and almost forgetting what kind of adventure you're packing for.

And now, without any idea of the nearest future, you were sitting in a black Mercedes Sprinter between Marcus and James Kerr, Ben was in the passenger seat in front, Steven was riding with the group in the bus. It was only 8 am, you were sleepy, only at the last moment you didn’t forget to remove eye patches before going out, you didn’t even put on makeup, so you sat in the wide sunglasses, even though the sun wasn't visible through the tinted windows of the car.

It seemed that everyone was relaxed, easily communicated with each other and knew exactly what each would do upon arrival at the venue. Unlike you. The schedule was pretty clear - check-in at the hotel, lunch, departure for the soundcheck and then free time for the management and the band, but very busy time for the technicians. Of all this, the most sensible thing was to drink plenty of wine at dinner and walk around the rest of the day in a relaxed state of mind, but those were only pitiful thoughts of creeping fear. Deep inside you were sure that everything would be fine, it couldn’t be otherwise, because even if you didn’t know how to do this or that task, the guys knew their duties, and they physically couldn’t play the concert badly.

"Hey, Y/N, you kinda took working with us too seriously" Marcus snapped you out of your thoughts with his mocking tone.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, turning to him.

He touched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and chuckled. It took you another couple of seconds to figure out what he meant, so he took advantage of your confusion to explain "you now going to wear glasses in the dark as well?"

The reference to Alex was read transparently, so you imperceptibly flinched and pointedly removed them, as if not wanting to be associated with him at all.

"No, no, I just didn't have time to do my make up" you honestly admitted, shrugging your shoulders ingenuously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we-" the guy looked around at all the passengers, "we don't understand this here"

You laughed slightly, at the same time relaxing, and asked him a question that had been of interest to you for a long time.

"Why don't you have women in the team? I mean at all"

Instead of Marcus, Ben decided to answer from the front seat, apparently as the eldest among you.

“It didn’t happen on purpose, but later it became kind of unspoken rule. We are here like on the fishing, you know? We leave our wives, spend time within our male company, it’s like an alternative branch of your life, you do quality work here, you feel needed, while no one owe you nothing and you feel absolutely free in your actions, understanding thoroughly those who are around you"

"Are you aware that this is how a normal team should work, regardless of gender? It sounds somehow sexist. Am I really embarrassing you in actions?" you smiled slyly, anticipating the denouement.

"Actually, besides you, we have 3 other women in the team.." Marcus embarrassingly chipped in.

"Guys, don't bother yourself with excuses, I knew who I was messing with" you laughed, crossing your legs. Marcus looked at you dumbfounded, but said nothing, and James just chuckled softly at the window.

"Well, if you knew that, then you also should know about our tradition, right, guys?" Ben began in a conspiratorial tone, exchanging glances with the guys.

"Um, about what?" you arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"The newbie is signed up for the after-party. Tonight is your first concert, and after that we go to the bar, the drinks are off you! We're equal here" Ben imperturbably continued to scan your reaction with a fox-eye, waiting for an answer. It's not that you're greedy or unable to pay, but to buy drinks for the whole team...

And as if ahead of your question, the man added "enough management and the band".

As if it changed the essence. But you couldn't refuse, so you mumbled something affirmative, getting a roar of male hoarse laughter in response, and starting to laugh at yourself. You appreciated in people, especially males, this ability - to make a woman laugh. In a time of constant change and stress, finding someone who will make you forget about it was very important.

The rest of the road was spent in the same good mood, and these conversations did help you to forget about your anxiety due to upcoming events. Upon arrival, all the management team and the band settled in the hotel. As James promise, you've been given a private suite overlooking the most beautiful park in the city center. But due to an unknown coincidence, you lived not on the same floor with the attendants, but through the door from the group.

Matt carried your things to your room and you agreed to meet for lunch in 20 minutes.

Since you were able to miraculously did a make up even in the car, thanks to the sensitive driving, now you decided to change into more presentable clothes in which you will be at the concert.

Without changing the habit of choosing clothes carefully and for a long time, you took off your hot sweatshirt, remaining in only sweatpants and starting to go through the whole suitcase in search of those things that would match your mood. You had a couple of looks planned, but today's unexpectedly warm weather changed your plans a little, so you confidently took out a black leather skirt and a white blouse.

A piece of matter fit all your forms perfectly, so you were satisfied with the choice, spinning in front of the mirror by the bed. The black bodice harmonized perfectly with the skirt, and the crazy idea of staying only in it, without putting on anything, flashed through your head like a bullet, but flew out just as quickly as soon as you heard the muffled thud of heels on the carpet outside the door and a muttered "Jamie?" at your door followed by a knock. You hysterically shouted "No!" exactly at the moment when the door opened without a click.

"Shit, Y/N!" Alex, not having time to properly enter your room, but having clearly noticed you in a compromising way, abruptly recoiled, remaining in the corridor, but not completely closing the door so that he could hear you, but not see.

"God! What a mess" you pleaded, rushing to the door. You stuck out only your head, meeting the eyes of the musician, who was discomposedly staring at you point-blank.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Why are you naked?"

You asked at the same time, shouting over each other.

"This is my room! And I'm not naked!"

"Where's Jamie? I thought he was at 312" Turner asked, a little bewildered, clearly embarrassed.

"I have no idea where Jamie is. How did you even get in?" you were still half-dressed, hiding most of your body behind a wooden door.

"I knocked, but it turned out that it was not slammed at all"

"What the fuck? Maybe Matt didn't close when he left," you muttered more to yourself. You clearly saw the question “What did Matt do here?” that arose in Alex’s head, but which he never voiced. Clearly realizing that the dialogue could not be continued in this form, you abruptly switched the subject, trying to tear his eyes from your neck.

"I was changing for dinner anyway, so see you there" you sharply slammed the door in front of him, not wanting to go into details, and tiredly leaned your head against the wooden surface from the inside.

"Crazy" you heard quiet along with receding soft steps.

It was your only meaningful conversation with the singer, since that evening. You understood that it couldn’t go on like this for a long time, but at the moment you didn’t have any ideas how to fix the situation. So you just finally put on the look you chose, after checking that the door was locked, then decided to add a black headband, and being satisfied with your appearance, went downstairs.

After lunch, the whole team went to the stadium, where the technicians had already set up half of the equipment. The guys immediately went to the sound check, and you and Steven went to meet Ashton Gate management. It seemed like there was still plenty of time before the concert, and you thought you would have a few more chances to double-check everything, but in the turmoil that was going on behind the scenes, this turned out to be impossible.

To be honest, you were overwhelmed by what was happening. The soft music, people around, the sun rays moving towards the sunset - this whole scene that was unfolding before you as you unexpectedly stepped onto the empty stage a few minutes before the crowd was let into the stadium looked surreal and incredibly familiar, as if you had been here many times before. The noise and chaos behind you contrasted with the tranquility in front of your eyes. The empty space that was about to be filled with a crowd in just a few minutes brought both excitement and serenity. These were the moments that seemed unreal, but made life worth living.

***

The show was about to start, and you stood next to the dark staircase, where the guys from the dressing room were soon to come up. Leaning on the railing, you nervously twirled a lock of hair around your finger. You went through all the items on the checklist in your head, checking off each one mentally, but something still bothered you.

Alex.

Your unfinished conversations and evasive behavior were weighing on you. You felt guilty, knowing that as his manager, you had behaved tactlessly, driven by emotions. It ate at you from the inside. You decided that you would talk to him today, apologize and put this issue to rest once and for all.

Suddenly you noticed a flickering light from the security, which meant that the group is entering the stage, and you turned sharply, both wanting and fearing to see them. As always, looking luxurious, these four men made their way up to the platform, remaining unnoticed by the audience.

"Good luck, guys! I'm buzzing as hell honestly" you tried to sound confident, but your voice trembled on the last word.

"Miss Y/S, is it just me or are you worried about us?" Nick lightly touched your shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"Well, it's my first time with you" realizing how ambiguous that sounded, you interrupted yourself with a laugh.

"Oh, you'll love it, babe" Matt mimicked a voice from a cheap adult movie, tossing a stick in the air. It seemed like he could find the right words in any situation, and in the future, you would highly appreciate this skill.

All this time, you were glancing at Alex out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his emotions, but he calmly adjusted the folds on his unchanging dark blue jacket and stretched his neck with turns left and right. Seeing that the guys had moved a little away from you, you looked at your watch, estimating that you had 5 minutes maximum, and whispered to yourself "now or never".

"Alex!" you called him out loudly, trying to outshout the crowd "I wanted to talk, I know it's not the most appropriate time, but-"

"Y/N, forgive me, okay," the man unexpectedly began, barely approaching you. For the first time, you saw genuine excitement in his eyes, here, in the darkness of the backstage area of a 30,000-seat stadium. For some reason, only now you clearly feel the difference in height between you two. He looked down at you patronizingly. Maybe it was because of his heels or the knot of nerves in your stomach that made you feel so small in your attempt to hide from his penetrating gaze.

"I've been a complete jerk and acted childish from the very beginning. You didn't do anything to deserve such treatment. I don't want our tension to affect the group and our work in any way, so I admit my guilt"

You stood in shock, slightly opening your mouth. You absolutely did not expect such a turn of events, so your entire improvised speech evaporated from your mind instantly. He suddenly smiled softly, raising an eyebrow, as if asking 'well, what now?' Still not believing what you heard, you nodded your head almost automatically.

"Y-yes, you were a jerk indeed. But I also didn't behave entirely correctly, my first impression wasn't great either," you sighed in frustration, recalling your memories, "I suggest we start over, huh? Hi, my name is Y/N, I'm your new tour manager, nice to meet you" and to confirm your words, you gracefully extended your hand to him.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Alex Turner, sort of singing here," he shook your hand with an energetic movement. His palm was dry and steady, causing a pleasant warmth throughout your body, "just business then?"

"Just business indeed. And a little bit of music" you said, more relaxed, smiling with all 32 teeth, still holding onto his hand.

"Deal, Miss Y/S"

For a moment, the roar of fans faded away for you, and you only saw the outlines of his pupils in the semi-darkness and his fingers firmly holding yours. However, your fragile moment was promptly ruined by-

"Al, c'mon!" Jamie impatiently called, and your hand felt the gusts of wind instead of calloused skin of the frontman. You watched him walk away in his waddle manner, as he suddenly turned and shouted, winking "By the way, nice lace".

It took you a couple of seconds to understand what was said, and when the meaning of his words reached you, you exclaimed in indignation "You, motherfucker!" almost stomping your foot, but your cry was lost in the wild roar of the crowd, as the guys were already on stage.

It was a miraculous sight. Four men made people go into ecstasy just with their appearance - this is the phenomenon of the Beatles, and they were proof that rock and roll is alive. As long as they are alive. Every strum on the guitar strings, every touch of the lips to the microphone, every drumstick strike, every hair flip was special in their performance, they themselves were special.

You were fascinated, to say the least. When the performance came to the last song before the encore, Body Paint, one of your favorite songs from the album, that was definitely made to be played live, you were out of words. The whole song built you up to the climax, to the outro that every time was a pure jamming and improvisation. And you literally exploded in ecstasy when Alex started walking around the stage, unable to stand still from the knocking down energy. He closed his eyes in languor, biting his lips, screaming, throwing out his arms, and you couldn't take your eyes off. You weren't dancing or jumping, you were inseparably watching his every movement, arms folded across your chest. Your mouth was agape against your will, and your eyes eagerly punched a hole in the frontman. This is a unique performance, it's something that is hard to explain without feeling it for yourself. You were made up of his music, you literally felt these waves inside your veins, your brain wasn't able to comprehend what was happening, it was like a catharsis for all of you. And you definitely didn't want to be saved.

Suddenly Alex turned his head to your side, continuing to play some divine riff outlining the Van Gogh fields on the guitar strings. His hair was tousled, shirt unbuttoned, but his jacket fitted perfectly. He rested his eyes on your figure, smiling with one corner of his lips, and you looked at each other for good seven seconds which felt like eternity. You were sure that everything was clear in your eyes, and even if he stood next to you and heard you, you wouldn't be able to utter a word.

What you definitely didn't expect when your eye contact was broken and Alex walked to another side of the stage, that tears would involuntarily flow from your eyes. "What the hell..." you wondered aloud, quickly removing the salty tracks from your cheeks. In fact, you perfectly understood why you were crying. From a sense of greatness. The greatness of music, human synergy and the power of unity. It was too much for you, too strong emotions to bear. It was excellent, it was the taste of life, thanks to which you still were here. "God, if you exist, bless this band, they are saints" although it sounded ridiculous and naive, you seriously were ready to pray for the talent of these guys, for the ability to make other people feel alive. You were in your place, you did everything right, you were cruising the victory. Today he convinced you.

As soon as the last chords of "RU Mine?" were played and the bows to the fans were taken, the men disappeared from the deafening roar behind the dark curtains of backstage. Their hair stuck to their sweat faces, and a distinct masculine smell was coming from their shirts. The guys passed by you with exhausted smiles, unable to utter a word from fatigue, and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.

You didn't know what to do right now. According to your understanding, your job didn't end with pre-concert organization, there were also post-concert tasks to be done. But you were so lost in emotions that you felt like you were drifting away from an anaphylactic shock.

Unexpectedly, Tyler came to you as he was the last one to come off the stage. He fraternally put a hand on your shoulder, tousling your hair with his heavy palm.

"Well, with the initiation into our hell, sweetheart. How're you?"

"Thrilled, and I want more!" you declared confidently, matching his quick pace that was pulling you further away from the frenzy of the crowd.

"Well, don't doubt that, it's just the beginning" he charmingly smiled, and you couldn't help but mirror his expression.

"Now we're going to celebrate, and you're coming with us" it sounded so authoritative that even if you wanted to object, you immediately closed your mouth, nodding in agreement. "Besides, seems like you need to unwind" you remembered.

You left the stadium only an hour later, apparently, it was a normal time for the guys to "recover". You'd made several jokes about one woman waiting for seven men and received offended and teasing looks in return. You got into the same Mercedes you arrived in that morning, and the driver took you to one of Bristol's typical English pubs that the guys loved so much.

You didn't understand their fondness for these quaint places where the sofa upholstery hadn't changed along with the owner. There were so many modern bars in the city, any of which the band could afford to rent entirely, but they paid tribute to traditions, obviously cherishing memories of their lively youth when they started playing their first concerts in similar places. Such a return to their roots after the thousands-capacity stadiums grounded them well. And the warm nostalgia, slipping across the Guinness glasses every time, was a corner of genuine joy for the guys, the only true luxury they possessed.

And overall, you didn't care where to spend money or on what. After all today's events, which felt like a whole month, you didn't mind anymore. In the morning, you looked at your apple orchard in the early mist of suburban London, then stood half-naked in a five-star hotel room in front of a world-renowned music star, and now, in the evening, you huddled next to him on an old leather couch under a red velvet chandelier, drinking a B-52.

Glasses, shots and colorful bottles flashed in front of your eyes like a kaleidoscope. Your head was spinning from the amount of alcohol, and your cheeks hurt from laughter.

"My dear mates, I propose a toast to Miss Y/S and her first concert with us! I don't know if she understands where she has ended up, but we'll make sure she has a great time with us, right, guys? To Y/N!" Matt solemnly proclaimed, rising from the table, and 8 hands, pouring drinks onto each other, reached towards the center of the table to clink glasses.

"Guys, thank you for this opportunity, thanks to James for his unplanned vacation, thanks to Steven and Marcus-" although the latter wasn't here, you decided to thank him as he had been providing you with all kinds of help during these weeks, "for their support and adaptation, and of course, to you Monkeys, for accepting me. I do like your crazy Monkey house" you joked, but it didn't negate the truth. Despite all the past disagreements with the lead singer, you felt that you were still doing everything right. And even if you hadn't gone on this adventure today, you would still feel grateful to fate for such an opportunity to be at the center of life.

"Glad to hear that," Jamie chuckled ironically, "as they say, welcome aboard"

And with these words, you all whistled, and Tom even shouted like a saloon girl from the Wild West. Your evening, or rather the night, continued until 3 am, fortunately there was no concert the next day, so you could at least sleep in a bit. You looked in horror at the amount you had drunk, trying to estimate how long it would take to recover the contents of your wallet. But you had consumed so much gin and tonic that the only thing that really worried you was how to walk straight for at least 2 meters to the bar to pay for it all.

"Drinks on me!" you declared with a mischievous smile to the group as you headed towards the bar counter.

"What, for everyone?" Matt playfully refined.

"Well, yeah," you didn't have the energy to realize his surprise, but he also didn't have the energy to argue with you, "that's no problem".

And thus, the following events spun in your head like a foggy whirlpool. Here you were finally breathing in the fresh air of the street, tilting your head towards the purple sky, then you were half-lying on someone's shoulder in the black minivan, and finally for no reason you were walking barefoot on a soft hotel carpet, but there were no shoes in your hands as well.

You didn't have any memories of walking into your room either. But in the moment, the feeling of soft snow-white hotel sheets flooded your body with long-awaited bliss. You instantly fell into the arms of Morpheus, only on the verge of consciousness noticing that someone took off the headband from your hair, which had been squeezing your head tightly, and silently closed the door.

You may be too drunk to remember each of your actions clearly, but you definitely wouldn't mistake the familiar scent of cigarettes in the room.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: Oh, so much has happened in one chapter, and this is just the beginning of the tour... I decided to tell the background of Y/N for a better understanding of her actions. What do you think, maybe you want more of "Italian friends" in the work? Whose line do you want to read in more detail? Share your emotions, it is incredibly valuable to me that someone reads this work actually!

xo🤍

Taglist: @missbabyjay @rentskenobi @findmeincorneliastreet @indierockgirrl here it is!

*if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to ask me!

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noahmaxim · 2 years ago

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Lazy day - Ethan Torchio

I accept requests!

Warnings: beware this can be cute.

English is not my first language, so it may contain grammatical errors. I'm Brazilian.

________________________

It was a sunny afternoon in Rome, and even though it was summer there was a soft, cool breeze, the perfect day to laze around the house. You were sitting on a wooden stool finishing a painting that you had started a few days ago. A customer had ordered a painting of a full moon night, and you had to deliver it within a week.

A rather sleepy Ethan appeared in the room, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself fully. Her sleep-dazed eyes studied what little of the room they could still see while her mind processed what was happening around her. Without taking your focus off the drawing you say:

"Did you sleep well mi amoré?" Her sweet, warm tone doesn't seem to have woken her boyfriend up completely, he disappears into the kitchen for a few moments.

A smile instantly appears on his lips, Ethan was very cute when he woke up, his messy hair framed his beautiful face and that sleepwalking way of his makes him even cuter. He was like an adorable kitten.

Ethan has reappeared in the room with a glass cup full of coffee in his hands, he walks towards you tilting his head slightly to look at the painting.

"What do you think?" You turn slightly to the side so you could look at your boyfriend.

"Even if it's not finished, but it's really good" He leaves a kiss on the top of her head.

"Then I'll get back to work." You turn back to the canvas and go back to painting.

Thirty minutes or so passed, but you remained focused on your work. Good at least until she felt soft kisses on her neck.

"Amoré, I'm working." You smile, depositing your brush on the small table that was next to the canvas.

"I know, but you've been there so long. We hardly have time to spend together, so how about we take the day to spend together?" He continues to attack her neck with soft kisses.

"Fine, let's have a lazy day!" You get up, putting your arms around the brunette's neck, you place a kiss on Ethan's lips. He asks for passage with his tongue, the kiss was calm and sweet.

"Let's go to bed." He picks you up bridal style making you squeal in surprise.

Those moments were her favorites, the moments when you could just enjoy Ethan's company.

#maneskin x reader #ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio #maneskin #victoria de angelis #damiano david #thomas raggi #maneskin imagines #ethan torchio x you #maneskin x you #ethan torchio imagine

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writersblockiskillingme · 2 years ago

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Dad Damaino please

Papà | Damiano David

Pairing: Damiano David x reader

Summary: You woke up in the middle of the night just so that you realize that Damiano is not with you, but don't worry. You know where to find him.

Warning/s: just pure fluff, mantion of hospitals a few times, pregnancy and babies and all that stuff, dad Damiano (yes that should be a warning itself), first time writing anything related to babies and that kind of stuff, possible grammar and spelling mistakes (English is my second language)

Author's note: Ding! Order up!🛎 Here is another Damiano fic as you requested. I really do hope you like it. It is truly the first time that I wrote anything that included this type of topics, but I hope that I did a decent job. Thank you for the request, anon. Feel free to send more requests. Enjoy!! 👩‍🍳

You were snuggled deep in the silk sheets on Damiano's and yours bed. Once you heard the noise the first time you just started to press your face much deeper in your pillow. The softness and the warmth of your side of the bed was overwhelming. You were finally back home. Back in your own bed.

Oh, how much you missed your comfortable side of the bed. The soft, squishy pillow that felt like you were resting your face on a literal cloud. You missed the softness so much. You knew one thing for sure. Hospital beds sucked. Very much so. But, aside from all that. One thing you missed the most, one thing that you literally wanted to kill for when you were forced to lay in uncomfortable hospital bed for days, was Damiano's soft touch when you slept.

The feeling of his arm tightening around you and bringing you closer to keep you warm at night when you were practically fast asleep. You missed the feeling of his soft breathing that you felt against your neck every night. You just missed feeling his warmth and being in his safe hold in your sleep. When you slept in the same bed with him, it felt like the safest place ever. You felt like you were the safest you could ever be in the whole wide world right when you were in his arms. Speaking of Damiano, soon enough, as you steached your arm out and your fingers felt the sheets on the other side of the bed where Damiano was supposed to be sleeping, you noticed that Damiano wasn't laing in bed anymore. That's when you heard that little whining voice again, but it was slowly calming down, it was slowly getting quite and you knew what it was. You knew what was happening.

You gathered all of the strength you could so you could open your eyes. You did so with, what seemed like, a lot of effort. You than steached your arm a little bit left soaking in the feeling of the cold side of bed which Damiano occupied, but now was nowhere to be found. Yet you were sure that you knew exactly where he was. And so, with that thought, you decided that you should get up and confirm your suspicion. You couldn't help but let out a small soft groan at the thought of getting up from the bed. It doesn't matter, you think to yourself, the bed was getting colder without him anyways. You lifted the covers off of you and slang your legs over your side of the bed so you could get up. As you did that, and got up afterwards, you, once again, couldn't help but let out another soft groan from the soreness. You still couldn't believe that all of this happened just a few days ago.

You slowly, quietly started to walk out of Damiano's and yours room and down the hallway. You watched your every step, careful as to not wake her up as Damiano probably got her back to sleep. Just when you thought that you had to open the door to the room that was not so far away from your bedroom you met with a wonderful sight.

There he was. Standing in the middle of the room, his back turned to you, facing the window which showed nothing but a complete darkness that the Italian night brought with it when it decided that Sun should be pushed away for a few hours before it was time for it to go back up. Even though his back was facing you, you could see that he was holding something in his arms or rather someone. As you stood frozen by the doorway, you watched as Damiano was slowly rocking her back and forth as he sang something in Italian to her. It was beautiful. It was truly beautiful. But most of all, it was peaceful and you didn't have the heart, you just couldn't bare, to break this peace between a father and a daughter. But you didn't have to. Damiano was first to notice your presence in the room. When you saw that he noticed you, you started to slowly walk up to him as he gave you a little soft smile. You leaned over his shoulder, holding onto him as you looked at the peaceful, sleeping face of your little girl.

"What are you doing up, amore?" He whispered once you joined them. "Did we wake you up?"

"I noticed that your side of the bed was cold and when I opened my eyes I saw that you were gone." You explained as you watched him watch you with beautiful pair of crystals that your daughter stole for herself, too. "I knew that I would find you here after I heard her voice." You told him as you pressed your finger against your daughter's soft cheek as you carefully tried to not wake her up with your action.

"You shouldn't be awake at his hour. Only a few days have passed since you were free to return home from the hospital." He started to ramble, you noticed that he started to speak faster, his Italian accent getting thicker and you couldn't help but smile at him. "You must sit down right now. You must rest." He continued with whispering his worries to you and you could hold back a quiet giggle that escaped your lips.

"Amore, I'm fine. I feel perfectly fine. Still a little sore, sure." You said and you immediately noticed how he shot you a worried look at that once again so you quickly continued to explain. "But I feel fine, Dami. Truly."

"But you would tell me if something was wrong." He gave you a look, never stopping with rocking your asleep daughter back and forth. "Right?"

"Of course I would. I promise." You promised with a smile and he seemed satisfied with your truthful answer.

"Good." He told you, but he still made you sit down on the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

At that moment you realized how lucky you truly were as to have this amazing family. You had a person who loved you unconditionally and would do anything for you just like you would do the same for him. He was your everything and you were his everything. As he shot a quick look and caught your sleeping form in a rocking chair he realized that he couldn't be happier. He had you. You had him. Him and your darling daughter Marlena.

TAGLIST

@opal-rugger

#anon ask #anons welcome #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin x reader #damiano david #damiano david x reader #maneskin #imagine #damiano david x you #x reader #reader #fanfic #fic

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taste-your-silhouette · 1 year ago

Text

I wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa

Pairings: Damiano David x fem!reader Contents: Smut Summary: Damiano takes you to see his new yacht Words: ~1205 A/N: Forgive me if you come across any errors while reading. I hope you enjoy it 💙

Damiano tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and says, "Today, I'm taking you on a nighttime picnic."

"Nighttime picnic? Sounds cool!" you laugh.

Damiano grins, matching your excitement, and nods. "Exactly, amore mio. We'll be under the stars, and a picnic will be perfect."

"Hmmm, sounds intriguing. So, where are we heading?" you ask.

With a gentle kiss on your lips, Damiano replies, "Let's head to the marina. I've got something new and I'm excited to share."

And he takes the lead, pulling you by the hand toward the marina. It's not a long walk, so you stroll hand in hand, chatting about random stuff and playfully teasing each other along the way.

As you arrive at the marina, you both wander through its numerous alleys until Damiano stops and gazes at you with gleaming eyes.

"Okay, you've got a yacht, I can tell. Which one?" you inquire.

"Y/N"

"Hm?"

Damiano chuckles and points to a massive, stunning yacht.

"That's the name. 'Y/N in the sea with diamonds'," he announces proudly.

You burst into laughter at the yacht's name and the fact that your name is on it, but most of all, you're filled with love for Damiano for arranging this surprise. You take a step closer to him, closing any remaining distance, and plant a passionate kiss on his lips. He places both hands on your waist, intensifying the connection between you, and sending shivers down your spine. Your heart races as he pulls you closer, but as he breaks the kiss, he reveals.

"Let's hop in soon, I've been keeping this Yacht secret from you for weeks."

"Weeks ago?! I can't believe it!" you lightly push him, laughing playfully.

Damiano holds your hand, taking the opportunity to guide you into the yacht. It's magnificent; your heart races as you step inside the Yacht—it's like stepping into a movie set. The interior is sophisticated, adorned with muted tones and soft lighting, creating a welcoming atmosphere. The huge picture windows allow the sunset light to dance across the elegant hardwood floors.

"So, did you like it?" Damiano asks, his eyes filled with anticipation.

"Gattino... it's amazing!"

"Come here," he takes your hand and leads you to the deck.

The deck is utterly cozy, featuring a soft rug and cushions scattered on the floor. A basket filled with delicious treats sits nearby: fancy sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a selection of tempting sweets.

"You're a box of surprises, you know? Look at this place!" you exclaim, marveling at the setup.

You glance at Damiano, who's looking at you expectantly and happily—his beauty enhanced by the golden glow of the sunset. A gentle breeze envelops you, and everything intensifies as Damiano draws even closer, so close that your breaths intermingle. He whispers:

"I love you, Y/N. Nothing I can create in this world comes close to what you deserve."

"I already have everything I want, I have you loving me, and I love you," you express with a contented smile.

You resist the urge to jump on him and skip the whole snack part.

"I want to madly kiss you until I lose my breath."

Damiano holds your gaze and smirks. "You, my love, have no idea of the things I want to do to you right here, but come on, let's eat first." He takes your hand, and together, you walk to the soft pads on the floor of the yacht and sit down.

You find yourself comfortably nestled between his legs, leaning back against Damiano's chest. You both enjoy the delectable treats, savoring each bite while talking and laughing, basking in the joy of being together.

The sun has already set and the moon is massive, with its twin dancing in the sea, Damiano gets close to your ear and whispers:

"You look damn gorgeous in the moonlight, Y/N"

His heart races as he feels Damiano kissing your neck and caressing your face lightly, bringing his mouth to meet yours. You turn to face Damiano completely and straddle him, wrapping your legs around his waist, his arm wrapping around your waist and squeezing as the kiss intensifies.

You moan in between the kiss as you press yourself down and rock forward slowly, causing the perfect friction between the two of your sensitive parts. Your clit swells with pleasure as you feel how hard Damiano is.

He moves his hands from your waist to your hips and gives it a gentle squeeze, guiding the movements and setting a rhythm. The kiss between you is interrupted by a moan, and Damiano takes the opportunity to explore your neck even more with kisses, bites, and hickeys. You feel him getting even more aroused with the increased pace of the movements.

In a flash, he's got your ass and lying down on the comfy floor, his body on top of yours. His hands roam all over your body, causing a trail of excitement and goosebumps on your skin, which he has easy access to thanks to your dress.

"So wet for me..." he says, softly rubbing the right spot.

With his other hand of his, he holds one of your boobs and squeezes it.

"So delicious," he slides your panties down your legs with only one hand, "and mine." And he enters you.

His hips go all the way down and stop, he buries his face on your neck, and you can perfectly hear all his groans, even the quietest ones, just as he hears yours. He holds your thighs tightly.

Your hearts are pounding, as are your moans as Damiano's hips slide in and out of you faster, his balls hitting you with each thrust, his hands gripping you so firmly it makes you tingle.

You scream his name as you start to feel your legs shake.

"Come for me, Y/N," he says between moans in your ear.

You moan louder and stronger after hearing his voice asking you to come like that, and it's impossible to hold back the huge feeling that is about to explode.

And it comes, as soon as you feel it penetrates you as much as it can, gushing all the pleasure it feels for you inside you, spurt after spurt.

He collapses on top of you, his hands slightly loosening their grip on your thighs. You look at him, his eyes still filled with desire and lust.

You hook your legs around him and spin around on top of him, sitting right on his lap.

"You're even more irresistible with the moonlight illuminating you," he says, lifting both hands and massaging your boobs.

You smile, wiggling slightly with his cock inside you.

"Let's not end this anytime soon then, because I can say the same for you."

And so you spend the night, on Y/N in the Sea with Diamonds, christening every corner of it with pleasure.

"You're even more irresistible with the moonlight illuminating you," he says, lifting both hands and massaging your boobs.

You smile, wiggling slightly your hips with his cock inside you.

"Let's not end this anytime soon then, because I can say the same for you."

And so you spend the night, on Y/N in the Sea with Diamonds, christening every corner of it with pleasure.

#må #måneskin #damiano david #damiano måneskin #damiano david x reader #damiano david smut #damiano david x you #damiano david fic #måneskin imagine

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pjisskullourful · 1 year ago

Text

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.

»»————-　♡　————-««

#maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin smut #maneskin fic #manesmut #damiano david fic #damiano x reader #damiano david x you

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filthforfriends · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 2: Sentient

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Author's Note (CW: addiction, hospital)

Word count: 4.7k

Damiano David x Y/n

“Dami, don’t panic. You’re okay. You’re okay, baby, I promise. I’m here. Y/n is here and you’re okay.” He startles violently and his eyes fly open, containing an unquellable panic. Dr. Williams uses a flashlight to test the responsiveness of Damiano’s pupils. That temporarily blinds him and makes the situation worse.

“Mr. David, you are in the hospital. You overdosed last night.” He speaks slowly and loudly while leaning over. You decide to sit down on the edge of the cot. Very slightly, you tilt his face towards you while leaning in close, less than a foot away.

“You recognize me?” His brow furrows and he squeezes your hand tightly. Yes, I fucking recognize you. “Just making sure.” Your thumb brushes the tape which holds the mouthpiece in place. He starts fighting the ventilator, making horrendous coughing and gagging songs that turn his face red.

“I’d really rather not sedate him,” says Dr. Williams to another physician.

“Dami, stop fighting it.” He then jolts, trying to get away from the intubation. “Just try to breathe, baby.” At the risk of being reprimanded, you scoot in as close as possible, your hip snug against Damiano’s side. The familiarity gives him pause.

“You O.D.-ed at the club. The drugs were laced with fentanyl. You are in a hospital. You overdosed so you’re in the hospital, but you’re alive.” When you set Dami’s hand in your lap, it slides to hold your flank. The physicality was as if no time had passed. Both hands free, you cup his face and stoop so there's less than six inches between separating you. His left hand is exploring dangerously close to the tubing, which he will undoubtedly yank.

“Prepare restraints,” Dr. Williams murmurs.

“No it's okay, I’ve got him.” You grasp Damiano’s left hand by the wrist and place it on your cheek. “I’m real. You’re really here. You’re okay. They had to put you on life support, baby.” The terror is back, but you get a hand under his hospital gown and rub Damia’s chest. “Try to breathe with it, for now. They’re getting someone to remove it. You’re okay. Shh…you’re okay, my love.” That last bit slipped out and to make matters worse, Damiano starts crying and shaking his head. Interpreting that as “no,” you begin pulling back, only for Dam to do everything in his power to bring you close again.

Just barely, you rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes because the alternative is too much. He watches you, however, the only thing that could soothe his mind after free falling into the abyss. Weakly, his left hand tucks the hair away from your face, the right rubbing your lower back. It was bliss. It was hell. It was the most grounded you’d felt in three months. It rubbed salt into every healing wound and tore open a couple new ones.

“Okay, that's good. Keep him calm.” How ironic that Damiano was the one keeping you calm, despite having a hard plastic tube down his throat. He’d always been so damn steadying. Conversely, it was your job to keep Dami tethered to reality as he became an international rockstar and sex symbol. Coming home from tour also meant coming home to himself, the person that didn’t exist for the entertainment of others and you pulled that out from under him when he needed it most. As a direct result, Dami had almost killed himself. You open your eyes and find five years of memories staring back at you. He wasn’t just conscious, he was intact.

“I swear to god, if you did one iota of damage to that beautiful brain of yours…” You run the back of your fingers down the side of his face. “Do you realize that by destroying yourself, you’re destroying a piece of art? That you’re ripping something beautiful and rare into a bunch of pieces and spitting on it?” You look into his teary eyes and wonder what he’d say if he could speak. After nearly dying had his answer changed? I don’t fucking live for other people! It's actually worse if they love me, do you understand that? Fame made love into a bad thing, an evil thing. Because they invent an idea of me in their head and all I can fucking do is betray that!

Someone in scrubs peaks their head through the doorway and addresses Dr. Williams in a whisper-yell.

“Just so you’re aware Paul, we do have a very worried mother on hold who’d like to speak to you when you’re done here.”

“Tell her y/n is here and that he’s awake,” you call, momentarily looking towards the flushed nurse's assistant. Dami’s mother had far from cut off contact and not so secretly hoped that you’d patch things up after taking a bit of time. It’d make her feel better that her son wasn’t alone. She must have woken up for a run, checked her messages, and realized that Damiano was in a coma. Now, every phone call from Maneskin’s team was going to give her anxiety.

“I, um…” Dr. Williams gives a single nod of permission. “I’ll do that right away.”

“Mr. David, are you close with your family?” You sit up out of the way, lacing your fingers through Dami’s right hand so he can’t use it to wreak havoc. As soon as you leave his line of sight, he gets frantic.

“She’s right here, Mr. David. She is sitting right beside you. I just need to ask you some questions, see when we can get you off the ventilator. Okay?” He is still straining and squeezing your hand, afraid of losing the only bit of familiarity.

“Baby, I’m right here. See? You can hold onto me.” His hand does exactly that, clutching the outside of your thigh. “I’m not leaving. I’m right here.”

“Why don’t you put your hand on his face again, carefully.”

“Tox screens,” Maria announces in a murmur, turning a computer towards Dr. Williams. He looks at it briefly and hums in acknowledgement. You take his casualness as a good sign.

“Mr. David, I’m gonna have you squeeze once for yes, twice for no.” It's actually a kind of ingenious thing to do, because it forces Damiano to keep his focus on you. He gives a single firm squeeze with both hands.

“Yes.”

“Alright, do you know where you are?” His pointer finger draws a line along your flank, then three smaller lines perpendicular to it. With the stress and sleep deprivation, it takes you a moment to realize he’s spelling something.

“E…R. Yes, exactly!” you exclaim, way too excited.

“Excellent. Do you know why you’re here?”

“O D um…question mark.” Already the nausea returns.

“That’s correct. You overdosed on fentanyl about almost 7 hours ago. Do you know what day it is?” After a moment, Dami squeezes twice.

“No.”

“Alright. It is April 24th, 2023. I’m sure you’re feeling some disorientation. Do you know who I have seated beside me right now?” Hard squeeze.

“Yes.” His pointer finger slowly traces something. “He just spelled the first letter of my name.” You’re giddy despite yourself. “When will we know if he has brain damage?”

“All I can tell you is that everything looks normal so far. Mr. David, I’m gonna list off the substances found in your blood and urine, so you tell me if you ingested them intentionally.” Even in his single squeeze you can feel the apprehension.

“Dami, do you need me to leave for a sec? Because you have to be honest right now.” There's a tense moment and he squeezes twice. “Okay, I know you don’t want me to leave, but you have to tell them the truth. You almost died today.” He holds on to you instead of answering. “Promise?” Squeeze. “Okay.” Dr. Williams’ eyes flit back and forth instead of posing a question.

“Okay…alcohol?”

“Yes.”

“Cannabis.”

“Yes.”

“Cocaine.”

“Yes.”

“Fentynal.”

“No.” You let out a sigh, but Dr. Williams clears his throat nervously. He refolds his hands.

“We also found trace amounts of heroin.” Dami squeezes once and you wait for the second squeeze, but it never comes. Heroin.

“Y/n?” Again, a single squeeze.

“Yes.” Your voice breaks and you feel hot tears on your cheeks running down to your chin. Each face in the room pities you. A loud ringing drowns out every beep, every hushed whisper, every calmly phrased question. Heroine. When? Why? Damiano used to rant about rock stars wasting their talent, the love of their families, their futures on hard core drugs. People with addictive personalities shouldn’t experiment with addictive substances, it was so simple to him. When had that man died and what was this monster that had replaced him?

“Heroin!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?” Dami is guilt stricken and really being absolutely miserable was the least he could do given the situation. “All that stuff about stupid, selfish rock stars blowing up the lives of everyone they loved, was it all fake?” Two squeezes. “Were you trying to trick me?” Two squeezes. “Were you using our whole relationship?” Two squeezes. “But did you ever do heroin while we were dating?” One squeeze. Speechless, you try to recoil but he holds on tight.

Had he shown signs? You don’t even know what the signs of heroin use are. It had never crossed your mind as a possibility. Like a stupid little girl, you’d been worried about alcoholism. There’d never been any needle marks, but maybe you missed it. Maybe he’d made love to you, a cry for help punctured into his skin, and you’d been blind.

“Should I have caught it?” No. “Were you miserable?” No. “Do you shoot up?” No. “Did you ever do it in our apartment?” No. “Did we ever have sex while you were high?” He hesitates at that one and you realize why. “I don’t mean when we would split a pot brownie. I mean did we have sex while you were high or heroine?” No.

God, that was fun, getting buzzed on an edible and spending the whole day naked and laughing in bed. You still had that white fitted sheet with a mango sorbet stain. Damiano was the best person to be high with. He never got sick or messy, but would happily take care of you if the reverse happened. Now you could never look at it the same. Of course he could handle weed if he was doing heroin.

“Did you wish you were high on heroin when we were having sex?” No! He uses his whole hand to pat your leg twice, very decisively.

“Perhaps –”

“Did you do coke when we were together?” No. “How many times did you do heroin?” Dami holds up two fingers. “Twice?” Yes.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but –”

“Of course. Sorry, continue.” Dr. Williams is merciful enough to switch the mode of communication to blinking. As soon as you were taken out of the middle, Damiano began strangling your hand, so you couldn’t leave. He had no fucking right to keep you here. Your fingers ached, all clasped together.

“You’re hurting me.” He freezes, grip loosening slightly. Yes, you could rip your hand away, self-righteous. However, Damiano was terrified and suffering enough without you exacting your ounce of revenge. He’d finally been honest and you couldn’t punish that, regardless of the betrayal.

“Y/n, did you hear that? We have to make sure Damiano can breathe on his own before taking him off the ventilator.”

“Um…okay.”

“The respiratory therapist will be the one to make that call, Dr. Costa. She should be here shortly.” Everyone but Maria files out of the room. Leaving you with Damiano feels like being hired for a position you are far from qualified for, but at least they allow Ethan to come inside.

“What's going on?” He’s breathless and disheveled in a way that is very un-Ethan.

“He’s awake. Come talk to him.” Damiano’s eyes don’t move from your face so you search for the right thing to say that's also genuine.

“I’m really glad you’re alive. Also you are cutting off blood flow to my hand.” He releases his grip to clasp Ethan’s hand instead. “One for yes, two for no.” Now that someone else is keeping him distracted, you stand up to retrieve your purse. As soon as his hand falls from your lap, Dami is reaching for you, frantically opening and closing his fist. You climb back onto the cot, foreheads pressed together again.

“I am getting my purse to call your mom. Okay? I am not leaving. Ethan, lean over into his line of sight.” You take a deep breath after standing upright. The urge to run returns, but you ignore it, applying chapstick to keep yourself distracted. Upon returning to the bed, you put his mom on speakerphone and place it next to Dami’s ear. She answers after less than one ring.

“He’s awake?”

“Mhm, and he can hear you.” The phone call is teary. She thanks you profusely for being there to the point that you have to change the subject to stop yourself from choking up.

“I was here when he woke up. It happened just after a blood draw.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” There's a heavy pause. “You said he was awake, but is he…”

“Sentient? Yes, no signs of brain damage so far. He even rolled his eyes when they asked if he knew who the prime minister was.”

“Oh, thank god.” She sobs and Damiano winces.

“He even looks guilty right now.”

“As he should. Do you know anything else?” For a moment, you and Dami hold poignant eye contact.

“No, sorry. We’ve all been focused on Dam.” There was no point in telling his mother about the heroin, at least not now. It’d do nothing constructive. Damiano could break the news himself once extubated and discussing the next rehab program. After a copious amount of goodbyes, the end of the phone call brought a wave of exhaustion that damn near made you keel over.

“I’m gonna take a nap until the respiratory therapist gets here.” Dami pats the space beside him. “No chance, I need more than seven inches of hospital bed. There's a cot over there. I’ll still be in the room.” This time Dami points to the edge of his bed. “You really want me to drag that thing all the way over here?”

“I'll do it,” Ethan offers. Scarcely interacting with the band since the breakup had been strange. Maneskin were a constant fixture in your life for five years and then they weren’t.

“Thank you, Edgar.” With Damiano’s bed lowered all the way down, and you laying on your side, his hand could just barely touch the top of your head. Ethan turned off the lights and it occurred to you that this very much wasn’t broken up behavior. Did it really matter while he was on a ventilator? Did anything? The memories of these moments of intimacy would no doubt haunt you, from a day when context transcended relationship status.

Ethan was the one to rouse you, helping you sit upright while only half conscious. The offensive LED lights were back on and the room was full of people. Instantly, you’re self conscious and aware that time has passed.

“What’s going on?” you croak.

“They’re going to extubate Damiano. They can’t do the procedure with visitors in the room,” he explains gently. You stand upright, wobble, then focus your gaze on who must be Dr. Costa.

“He’s okay?”

“Mr. David passed an SBT with flying colors. We are very confident that it is safe to extubate him.”

“Right, okay.” It feels as if your brain is going slower than everyone else’s. “Can I…I just say something to him, real quick?”

“Sure,” agrees Dr. Costa with a professional, but impatient smile. You place one knee on the hospital bed and lean over. Damiano is so anxious, face even more gray than when you arrived, and he’s sweating.

“I am not leaving. You will see me in a few minutes when they’re done de-tubing you.”

“Extubating,” someone corrects.

“I will be here when they are done extubating you.” You kiss his gross forehead and stand up.

“I would recommend going down to the cafeteria,” says Dr. Costa. It seems like a genial suggestion until you end up with your hands clamped over your ears outside the hospital room. Turns out that removing a plastic tube shoved all the way down someone’s esophagus is an unpleasant ordeal. Instead of letting you back in, Maria peeks her head out and announces they’re also removing the catheter. That sounds only marginally less excruciating than the extubation.

When you re-enter, after another 20 minutes, Damiano is sitting upright, sipping a cup of water. He looks like shit. You search for signs of jaundice.

“Is his liver okay? His kidneys?”

“We’ll keep him for observation another day or two.”

“Right.” Thank god Ethan was in the room with you, because now you really wanted to grab your shit and bolt. “Did everything go okay? That sounded…brutal.”

“Unfortunately, extubation is normally an uncomfortable procedure.”

“How has his breathing been since?”

“About what we expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Y/n, talk to me for god’s sake.”

“His vocal chords –”

“Y/n!”

“Agitation is a normal reaction,” Maria murmurs, making herself busy by organizing the bundle of chords monitoring Damiano.

“Just look at me.” He’d shaved all his beautiful hair right after the breakup, but even that can’t draw your attention away from his pallor. He’s more than ready for a mugshot.

“I’d like to know what you’re doing next. I won’t plan or enforce anything, that’s not my place anymore. I want to know for my own peace of mind.”

“We’re doing this press tour, so lots of superficial interviews and a few small scale performances.” He stares at you like this agenda should be obvious, and it is. The Maneskin itinerary isn’t what you’re talking about.

“You think you can make it through the end of this before rehab? It’s been less than two days and you almost killed yourself.” Maria slips out of the room.

“I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll test my drugs.” You’re momentarily baffled.

“‘You’ll test your drugs!?’”

“Yes.” He takes another sip of water while still holding eye contact, patronizing and hellbent on appearing in control. Except he wasn’t in control.

“You almost died, Damiano.” Ethan awkwardly takes a seat in the corner of the room

“A fact which has been made abundantly clear to me. I’m sure SME will have me back on the road again in no time.” His pessimism drips in syrupy sweet, faux positivity. It's alarming. Dami leans back, casual in a way that makes you furious. Now that he doesn’t need you, that glimmer of sincerity is gone.

“No.”

“No,’ what?”

“No, you don’t get to go from having a panic attack every moment we weren’t physically touching to being callous and distant.” This was the temperament that you broke up with and you weren’t gonna waste anymore time and heartache. The overnight bag never got unpacked, so all you had to locate was your purse and phone. Then you could leave.

“Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing? Stop, stop. Okay. Stop!”

“Why?” you snap, snatching your phone off of the bedside table.

“Thank you.” He picks up your free hand and kisses every knuckle.

“You won’t need to test your drugs because you’re gonna get clean. No alcohol, either.” Damiano sighs heavily. Explaining something so obvious is apparently burdensome.

“Do you know why frontmen do blow? It’s because there's no other way to do all the shit that our label demands. This is the equivalent of taking steroids as a professional athlete.”

“Steroids disqualify players.”

“Didn’t always. That’s why no one can beat the records set in the 80s.” You scoff and step back.

“You’re actually justifying this. Fucking incredible.”

“I’m not justifying, I’m providing logic. That's different.”

“Really, how?”

“Even facts involve logic.”

“So it's a fact that you need coke to be a frontman? Is it a fact that cocaine use is normal?”

“In certain circumstances, yes.” After five years, you were immune to his charisma. However, Dami spoke with such confidence and certainty that it no doubt swayed others.

“I’ve seen you with food poisoning, you can’t hypnotize me, dumbass.” For a moment, he’s humbled. “Also let's talk about the heroin. How are you going to explain that away?”

“Heroin!?” Ethan exclaims, horrified.

“You’re just mad that I did it while we were together.” he sneers.

“I am not just mad because of that. I actually have an whole fucking list of reasons that you doing heroin pisses me off, starting with: its fucking heroin.”

“I was experimenting. Obviously, I’m not addicted to it, otherwise there’d be more than traces in my bloodstream.”

“I’m sorry, your excuse for doing heroin is that you don’t do it very often?” Ethan exclaims, more visibly angry than you’d ever seen him. “Damiano, no!”

“I can stop whenever I want, I’m not addicted.”

“Then stop!!” Ethan yells.

“Fine,” he throws his hands up. “But it's not a big deal like you're making it.” He turns to you for understanding.

“Damiano, experimenting with heroin is like seeing how fast you need to drive a car for it to flip. You’re in the car!”

“Hypocrite,” he spits.

“What!? How am I –”

“You used to be all about experimenting.” It's such a stretch, that you initially don’t get it. Is he referring to taking edibles together? No, he’s throwing your entire relationship under the bus to justify using hard drugs.

“Woah! Having safe, conscientious, and consensual sex with other appropriately aged adults is not the same as heroin.” In that moment, the how falls into place. “Ethan, can you give me a minute?” Your eyes never break contact with Dami’s.

“Sure…” As soon as the door closes you hold back a scream.

“Are we still being honest?” Damiano gestures for you to go ahead. “Did you ever cheat on me? To be clear, cheating would be having sexual contact with another partner without –”

“I know the parameters of our relationship, y/n.”

“Fine. Did you ever violate them?”

“No!”

“Then who was it!? Who got you hooked on heroin?” For a moment he’s reeling, trying to cover up after being exposed.

“I’m not hooked!

“There is no way to take heroin recreationally, Damiano. You didn’t have opportunities to just stumble upon this, so who introduced you?”

“I, I’m not – that’s not…it doesn’t matter.”

“Don't tell me it doesn’t –” You stop yourself from screaming, take a deep breath, and adopt a dangerously calm tone. “You know what? I’m gonna find the answer to this. So why don’t you tell me yourself?”

“So then what, fuck privacy?”

“I’m asking what kinks they – no.” At first, you’d get in these giant convoluted fights where he’d bait you and it’d work every time. After 20 minutes of screaming you’d forget what the argument was even about and all that emotional intensity would become epic make-up sex. Now you had to anticipate his words having no integrity.

“You know what, I bet…” You scroll down on the notes app until you see the name Odette in a title. “I still have one of my lists.” You kept a shortlist of everyone you were actively involved with, in case herpes or chlamydia became an issue. “I have some of these women’s numbers. Caterina and I actually got brunch a couple weeks ago. Should I call her first?” He looks trapped and it's so vindicating. “Their NDAs should cover drug use, right?”

“Don’t.”

“Or I could start with your friends. We were together for five years, Damiano. I have everyone’s number. You were a real sloppy drunk towards the end.”

“Y/n, don’t tell my friends about this,” he begs.

“Why, I thought heroin was a non-issue?”

“I met them through a previous partner,” he admits. “We had sex once and it was bad, but they introduced me to their roommate. I was already really drunk when I tried it the first time. I wanted to know what it’d feel like sober so I did it again.”

“And since?” He sighs and looks at his hands.

“I’ve done it a few times.”

“Give me a number.”

“No.” You shove your phone in your purse and grasp the handle of your bag. “Fine, four! I only do it when I’m already high and way too amped up. It's just to negate the coke.”

“What the fuck are you doing mixing heroin with other substances? Do you have a death wish!? Is that it, are you suicidal?”

“No! I don’t know,” he groans. Your chest tightens painfully. Damiano had spent two and a half years of your relationship in therapy. His intrusive thoughts started getting really dark as Maneskin gained popularity.

“You should have stayed in therapy. This all could have been avoided.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Whatever, you’re entering inpatient treatment. This hospital had a great psychiatric and behavioral care unit, but if you’d prefer a smaller facility –” “I’m not going into a psych ward, y/n.”

“Fine, rehab facility of your choice.”

“I’m not going back to rehab, either. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You have to go to rehab!” you shout, desperately. “Because you will not die on me! If you ever, ever loved me, you would not destroy my entire life that way!” Damiano is taken aback at your outburst and the room is silent for several seconds. “Promise you’ll never do heroin again.”

“I promise.”

“Mean it!!”

“I do!”

“Go to rehab,” you deadpan.

“Stop trying to control my life, y/n!”

“I’m leaving.”

“No, don’t,” he pleads. Dami swings both legs over the side of the bed, as if to stand up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice breaks as the tears spill over. “I would have helped you. I was trying to help you.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“Why didn’t I tell the girl researching holistic ways to treat alcoholism that I was doing fucking heroin? Really?” You nod and pull a paper towel out to wipe your face. “Because I couldn’t bear you knowing that I was a piece of shit.”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You developed a chronic illness due to a severely stressful lifestyle, risk factors outside of your control, and probably a genetic predisposition. You are not a piece of shit, you have a disease.”

“What, SUDs?”

“Yes. How would you feel if I never got treatment for my chronic illness? If I just lay in bed, suffering, refusing to take my meds?” The suggestion makes him grimace.

“That’d be unbearable to watch,” he admits, not meeting your eyes.

“Exactly. This,” you gesture around the hospital room, “is fucking unbearable to watch. Get treatment if you want to be in my life.” His expression goes from sickened to aggravated.

“Fuck you and your ultimatums,” he bites.

“Fine.” You throw away the tissue, grab your shit, and shut the door behind you. For a couple minutes, Ethan hugs you as you sob, swaying back and forth.

“Damiano has to navigate this journey by himself, because his ego won’t allow him to receive guidance. He’s too distrustful to believe anyone’s perception but his own, as flawed as it may be.”

“God damn, I forgot how wise you are, Edgar.”

“The powers of self reflection.”

“Fucking hell,” you croak, pulling away and wiping away the tears on your sleeve. A nurse from earlier picks a box of tissues off of the counter and hands it to you.

“People are often agitated when they wake from a coma. He might be more willing to listen tomorrow.”

“Tell that to his mom.” You take a heaving breath and blow your nose. “I’m going home, this isn’t my battle anymore. We broke up three months ago.” You hand the tissue box back to the nurse and she purses her lips, obviously straining to find the right platitude.

“My sister loved an addict. There are support groups for you, too.” She pats you on the shoulder and moves on.

“I’m gonna call a cab.”

“No, let me call our car service. The vultures were beginning to circle at the front of the hospital when I arrived.” Vultures was a fitting nickname for the paparazzi.

“At a hospital of all places. Hope they get run over by an ambulance.”

“Me too.”

Notes: Well wasn't that some nice light reading! I'll be posting two chapters a week for the foreseeable future on Tuesday and Friday or Saturday (depending on how burnt out I am from the week previous). Enjoy? I guess?

-XOXO Eden

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