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written-on-the-trees · 2 years

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In Here With Me - Damiano David Imagine

A direct sequel to Hot Chocolate Kiss - if you haven't read that one, I do recommendit so that this makes more sense.

Prompt: Blanket Fort

Summary: Now it's finally the weekend, and she has her boyfriend Damiano back, Bethany's looking forward to getting over a terrible week. And it seems Damiano is going to do everything he can to help her do just that.

Find it here on Ao3, find the rest of this year's imagines (the two I've written so far, anyway) here, and find last years imagines here.

The next morning, Bethany woke up to an empty bed, and the sound of someone swearing in Italian in the living room.

She wasn’t that surprised; even though he went to bed late, Damiano was an early riser (how that man functioned on so little sleep, Bethany did not know), and although he tried to be quiet…well, there was a long list of talents that Damiano possessed, but being quiet was not one of them. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wake her up, but she didn’t mind. Whenever he woke her up, it was usually doing something interesting.

Or terrifying.

Either way, she decided pretty quickly to get out of bed and go and find out what it was that he was up to. It was almost midday, anyway, well past the time she usually got up. Last night had been…a lot, and she was more than ready to start a new day and move past it.

Not bothering to put on anything other than the t-shirt she’d slept in, Bethany grabbed the duvet off of the bed and wrapped it round herself before she wondered out into the hallway. She could hear Damiano clearer right now there wasn’t a shut door between them; muttering under his breath and shuffling things around.

She crept in, wondering what on earth he was going with the mountain of sheets he was leant over – but before she could get a good look, Damiano somehow clocked she was out of bed, and turned to see her standing in the doorway:

“Tesoro!” he beamed, dropping everything in his arms and crossing the room to pull her in for a warm hug: “I thought you were still asleep.”

Bethany nuzzled her face into his neck, smiling at the familiar smell of Damiano in the morning – faint body wash and faded cologne: “I just woke up.”

Damiano pulled back, looking concerned: “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I think I was ready to wake up anyway.” she shrugged…before smirking: “Although waking up to your dulcet tones swearing in the living from was definitely something.”

“Ah, tesoro, mi fa male! You wound me.” Damiano grinned, looking about as un-hurt as one could possibly be: “And after I did all this for you.”

He stepped back, making sure to grab her hand before she let it fall back to her side, before gesturing grandly around the living room.

The living room that had been transformed into a warm, wintery wonderland.

Bethany had already put up the tree, decorated in silver and gold, and put up warm white lights in the window, but Damiano had added so much more.

The coffee table had been shoved up against the sofa – or, at least, Bethany assumed it was the coffee table hidden under a mound of pillows and blankets…and she assumed it was her sofa that had been turned into a honest-to-god, grown-up-sized blanket fort. Somehow Damiano had arranged the chairs from the dining table and a sheet weighted down with books to create a cozy looking nest over the sofa and coffee table. It event looked like he’d included ‘doors’ that could be brought down after they were inside to close out the world.

It looked amazing.

“Dami, this…this is amazing, how did you manage all this?”

Damiano preened at her awed tone, looking for all the world like a cat who got the cream: “Sono fantastica, tesoro.And I would do anything if it meant I got to see you smile.”

“You are amazing.”

Somehow Damiano puffed up even more. If he’d looked like a cat who got the cream before, by now he looked like a peacock…but he’d earned it. And Bethany wouldn’t change him for the world. Her Damiano was brilliant and arrogant and cocky and amazing. He was perfect.

“Grazie, tesoro. You are too kind.”

Bethany smiled at his faux-modesty: “Well, if that’s what you think…”

Damiano cut her off with a kiss: “What I think is that you’re perfect. And that you need to get your cute arse into that blanket fort while I go and get the snacks.”

Damiano gave her a gentle nudge towards the blanket fort – and a gentle swat on the backside when she turned her back on him.

She gave him a playful glare over her shoulder, but his grin was unrepentant as he went out to get snacks. Bethany didn’t have time to give it much thought; the moment she ducked her head into the blanket fort, she was awe-struck all over again.

Underneath the heavy blanket that made up the roof of the fort were rows of warm golden fairy lights that give the inside an absolutely magical feel. The fluffy blanket from last night had been spread across the bottom of the fort, giving them a soft, warm cozy place to lay – as if all the cushions spread out at the far end of the space weren’t enough.

The whole thing was beautiful.

Bethany couldn’t believe Damiano had managed to set up such a beautiful fort on his own; this would’ve taken her the help of at least two people. It was so beautiful…

“Scootch up, tesoro.”

Bethany had been so enchanted by the blanket fort she’d forgotten to get all the way in: “Dami…”

“I know, I know, it’s almost as beautiful as me.” he winked at her, before holding out a tray of snacks and a bottle of her favourite rosé: “Take these, I just need to grab two more things.”

He was back a second later, a laptop on another tray balanced precariously in one hand, and more blankets draped over the opposite arm. He shook his head when she tried to take the laptop, clearly determined to manage the final stages of his plan…and although it took some careful maneuvering, he managed it.

He grinned proudly when he got inside the fort, laptop still on the tray and blankets still securely over his arm. Bethany couldn’t help but grin back; he was so cute when he was so proud of himself in contexts like this, the expression innocent and sweet.

It was enough to make her heart flutter – and Damiano wasn’t even done. He urged her back to recline against the cushions at the other end of the fort, and spread a blanket over her legs, before giving her the tray of food and the laptop so he could close the ‘doors’ to the fort behind him, leaving them illuminated only by the fairy lights above their heads.

In this light, Damiano looked like an angel: gilded by warm yellow light…albeit a clumsy, awkward angel shuffling around on his knees as he put her favourite film on on the laptop and got under the blanket with her.

Bethany smiled – curling herself into Damiano’s side the second he threw an arm around her shoulder, and giggling as he fed her a strawberry off of the plate in her lap. It didn’t have the flirty undertone it usually had when he fed her something; instead he was leaning in peck her on the forehead, the kiss affectionate and sweet. It wasn’t their usual dynamic…but that didn’t mean Bethany didn’t enjoy it.

If anything, it felt like exactly what she needed after the last week: including her awful crying jag last night. It was new, but it was comforting. Soothing.

It was perfect. Literally so perfect that Bethany was content to stay curled into Damiano’s side, watching the film with him and occasionally picking a bit of food off of the snack tray for herself or Damiano, or taking a mouthful of wine. The silence stretched out between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, and neither of them spoke until the film’s credits were rolling:

“Did you like your surprise, tesoro?” he murmured, nuzzling his face against her hair.

“It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” she replied with complete honesty, turning to bury her face in the side of Damiano’s neck.

“Amore mio,” Damiano responded, sounding uncharacteristically serious where his face was buried in her hair: “I would give you all the stars I the sky if I could…as it stands, all I can give you is fairy lights under a blanket - ”

“And they are more than I could ever want.” Bethany interrupted, pulling back to look Damiano, so he would know how serious she was: “You just being here, being you, is more than I could want. All of this? It’s the cherry on top.”

Damiano raised a hand to cup the base of Bethany’s skull, his fingers threading through her hair: “I’m sorry wasn’t here for you when you were struggling, tesoro. I know I’m away a lot…but I’m not going anywhere now, not before Christmas, and not before the new year, I promise you. And I’m going to make it up to you for not being here when you needed me.”

Bethany wasn’t able to help herself: she leant up to kiss her sweetheart of a boyfriend. Their kiss slow was slow and sweet and gentle: both of them pouring as much emotion as they could into their connection, until eventually they had to pull apart to breathe.

“Ti voglio tanto bene, amore mio.” Damiano murmured, staying so close that Bethany could feel his lips brushing against hers when he spoke, feel his breath ghosting over her skin.

As if his words alone weren’t enough to make her melt.

Unable to help herself, she leant in to kiss him again – just a chaste peck – before whispering back: “I love you too.”

#Damiano David #Damiano David imagine #Damiano David fanfic #Damiano David fan fic #Damiano David fanfiction #Damiano David fan fiction #Damiano David fluff #Damiano David one-shot #Maneskine imagine #Maneskin #The Trees' Christmas 2021 Writing Collection

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dreamermoonshine · 3 years

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Alex and Damiano Act 1

While Alex is playing his PlayStation in his spainish room, While Damiano is trying to get him to study for his exam in Spain

Damiano: Hey Alex are you trying to do your exam

Alex: yah

Damiano: Hurry up, Your sister and and my brother would be treating a family dinner for you after your exam is over I promise

Alex: I will

Damiano: I help with your maths if you turned off your PlayStation is that okay

Alex: Okay, Lets study

So Alex turned his computer and PlayStation off he going to start studying on his bed with Damiano

taglist

@its-afucking-mess, @selenophiliaxx, @alexmandonreysblog, @damianodavidwife @damiannasworld @damianodavidspizza, @unitershy @alexmandonreysblog @mywritingonlyfans @fandomfoodiedancer @bidet-and-legolas @cantaraiilmionome @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @ilbxllodellavita @teatrodellavita @cries-in-maneskin

#alex mandon rey #damiano david #now united fiction #maneskin fiction #fan fic #Damiano is mother to Alex lol #study buddy #brotherhood of David and Mandon Rey

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tryymebitch · 3 years

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For Your Love (Damiano David x Reader)

This is the first fic I've written in 100 years so please be nice! Just love the idea of playing with Måneskin, and sorry Thomas for bumping you to rhythm guitar:)

I've tagged a few blogs that I like and make great content around this band, sorry if I missed anyone, I just went off the top of my head:)

Warnings: none, that I can think of:)

Taglist: @daddydamiano @maybanksslut @bidet-and-legolas @midnightliv @mywritingonlyfans @victoria-de-angelis @lividisuigomiti @oro-e-diamanti @illicitfuck @icouldbeyourpuppet

Please be nice if its terrible:)

The first opening chords shook through the venue. You felt the strings vibrate under your fingers, with the same electric energy the crowd were living in.

“I wanna be the first man you look at tonight//I wanna be stuck in your head and make you go wild”

Damiano started the song grasping the mic stand with both hands, giving the slow start to the song it’s justice. The audience went crazy over the opening lyrics, instantly recognising the lyrics and belting along.

“I wanna drive you ’til the morning light and//I wanna leave you alone in the middle of the night”

The song struck a particular chord with you, remembering its conception. At the time, you were half asleep, head on Damiano’s shoulder in the back of a taxi, heading back to your shared apartment after a crazy night out with the band. He’d been drunk, murmuring the words in your ear to keep you awake. Now though, you were repeating the same two chords, waiting for the song to pick up momentum.

“I wanna be a good man and see you smile//And I wanna swim between your thighs”

Damiano was on the move, taking the mic from its stand and sauntering towards you, the crowd going crazy. He moved behind you while he sang, one arm draped over your shoulder, hand near your throat.

“I wanna fuck you ’til you scream and cry”

He pressed a hard kiss against the column of your neck, the crowd screaming along as they always did when Damiano got handsy on stage.

“I wanna hold you in my arms tonight”

He released you as he moved on to the chorus of the song, allowing you to get into the feel of the track and start playing the more complex notes. Your long hair was swinging around in front of you, half obscuring your view of your own guitar, as you let out a silent prayer of gratitude that you’d committed this particular song to muscle memory. Hands flying across the strings, you spared a glance around to the rest of the band. Ethan was just a blur of black hair and toned arms, Vic doing her signature stomping, Thomas covering you on rhythm, and Damiano doubled over as he cried the lyrics into the microphone.

With the slower second verse starting you allowed yourself a breather, to flip your hair off your face to cool down. You never quite had gotten used to just how hot playing a live gig was. Granted, a leather jacket and Doc Martens weren’t helping, but form over function, right?

“So baby why don’t you please me now//I’ve got so much I can give to you”

The pure energy your boyfriend was giving off was electric, how he could go from the emotion he put in ‘Coraline’, to the high energy party vibes of ‘L’altra Dimensione’ to the pure sex of this was beyond you.

The second chorus hit with just as much passion as the first, Vic and Thomas either side of you as you played in unison, a well oiled machine. Ethan continued his powerful assault on his drums, the bass almost felt like it was coming from within you own head, perfectly timed with Vic’s bass line. It was coming up on time for the bridge, and your pulse pounded.

The building guitar, alongside the drums was filling the large venue with adrenaline. You watched as Vic and Thomas moved off to flank Ethan, Vic with her foot up on his kit, head banging over his cymbals. Damiano, ever the showman, was in the front row of the audience, his bare chest glimmering with sweat as he danced along with the crowd. At one point, a fan threw a plastic crown onto the stage, only for him to scoop it up and jam it over his brown waves.

“So tell me what you want, I’ll give you what you want baby”

Ah yes, your favourite part of the song. The crowd knew your usual routine with Damiano, and while as a band you never wanted to choreograph your shows, this part always seemed to stick.

“Tell me what you want, I’ll give you what you want baby”

Damiano sauntered across the stage, eyes locked with yours as he gripped the microphone with both hands.

“Tell me what you want, I’ll give you what you want baby”

You daren’t look away from him, playing the lead on autopilot. He stopped inches away from your face, still locked onto you, plastic crown still in place.

“Tell me what you want, I’ll give you what you want”

On his last, extended note, he dropped to his knees right in front of you, belting into the mic as if his life depended on it. As your big solo started, you decided in the moment to take control, break tradition. Usually, Damiano fell to his knees and you followed suit, playing the solo right opposite him, however this time was different.

You planted a boot on his chest, just below his shoulder and pushed, leaving Damiano on the floor beneath you as you played. You almost wished you had a camera on you, the sight of Damiano on the ground, in nothing but tight leather pants, heeled boots and a crown was enough to make you weak, without the added factor of you being the one that put him there.

Doubled over as you played, you saw your hair brush against his face and chest, while he watched you in awe. Eventually, you let off of his chest to finish your solo, seeing him get back onto his knees from the corner of your eye.

“Because baby for your love, I’ll do whatever you want”

He finished the song kneeling, leaning over the edge of the stage while the crowd sang along with him. To be honest, you’d got so wrapped up in the song, and Damiano, that you’d almost forgotten that there were thousands of people watching your every move.

The end of the song brought thundering applause and screaming from the fans, the last song of the set. Best ’til last, you thought. After waiting for Ethan to get out from behind his drums, you gave a collective bow and made it off stage.

Before you knew it, you were wrapped in a hug from behind, bare, tattooed arms snaking around your waist and bringing your back to his chest.

“So fucking sexy, amore mio” He whispered in your ear. You grinned, loving that something you’d enjoyed to much had had the same effect on Damiano.

“Portami a casa?” You replied, only to have a kiss pressed against your temple as he took your hand.

“Of course, angelo.”

My love

Take me home?

Angel

#damiano david x reader #damiano david #maneskin #måneskin #victoria de angelis #vic de angelis #thomas raggi #ethan torchio #for your love #teatro d'ira #damiano fanfic #damiano fluff #damiano x reader #damiano david x you

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little-moonbeam-666 · 2 years

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I just posted a Damiano David fic last night called Anything For You!

If you’d like a fic about one of the Maneskin members, send me a request!

I do smut, fluff, angst…. Anything your little fan girl heart desires!

#maneskin #maneskin imagine #maneskin smut #smut #damiano david #thomas raggi #ethan torchio #victoria de angelis #damiano david smut #ethan torchio smut #thomas raggi smut #fluff #angst #requests

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brookecuzyes · 2 years

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I posted 410 times in 2021

135 posts created (33%)

275 posts reblogged (67%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.0 posts.

I added 471 tags in 2021

#marvel - 112 posts

#loki - 78 posts

#loki laufeyson - 49 posts

#mcu - 40 posts

#bucky barnes - 38 posts

#loki series - 38 posts

#sebastian stan - 37 posts

#damiano david - 29 posts

#loki spoilers - 27 posts

#loki odinson - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#brought to you by: me reading a fic and screaming and thinking ab what i’d say if my mom asked why i was screaming and how if it were my kid

My Top Posts in 2021

three years of you. — cruel summer

Damiano David x GN!Musician!Reader

Main Masterlist — 3yrs Masterlist

Summary: three years is a lot of time to get to know someone. you can even learn the way that people think, but it isn’t always a good thing. (Part 2)

Word Count: ≈2.8k

Warnings: some cursing, mentions of a fetus on a plane.

A/N: I kind of made an AU here lmao. I’m incorporating the Julie and The Phantoms band from the show as the band Y/N is in. I didn’t feel like making OC’s when the main character isn’t even an OC. So… if your a JaTP fan, I hope your happy 😉😏

———————————————————————-

Devastation— severe and overwhelming shock or grief.

Devastation— that’s what Damiano felt.

His partner of three years had left to go back to Los Angeles. You didn’t even say goodbye. You only left a note.

Damiano was severely overwhelmed with shock. Or was it grief?

Regardless, Damiano felt as if a knife struck through his heart. He cried. A lot.

He wanted to call you so badly. He just wanted to apologize for all of his wrongdoings. However, he couldn’t. You were on a fourteen-hour flight, you were probably asleep and your phone was probably on airplane mode.

He had to get to the studio. The band was still recording the album. He just felt like he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. But, the thing is, you couldn’t either.

——

Victoria picked up on Damiano's behavior almost immediately. She saw how gloomy he was, but she couldn’t get it out of him— whatever it was. But, what she did know is that you and him were having troubles, so she messaged you.

Hey, is everything ok between you and Dami? she texted.

No.

What’s going on?

I’m going back home, Vic. The plane just landed.

Wait, you did what?

I’m getting off the plane, I’ll text you when I’m at Alex’s.

Alex was the drummer of the band. He was taller, blonde, and an absolute sweetheart. He was one of your closest friends— though, the entire band is like a family to you. Your band is called Julie and The Phantoms. It consisted of you and your friends: Alex, Julie, Luke, and Reginald— or Reggie. You guys have been together as a band since high school. You were the newer addition, joining a few months later after the band was formed.

You had texted Alex after the plane took off. He said he would pick you up from the airport, which you were glad to hear. But, you knew he’d ask why you got back so early. You were in Italy, for crying out loud— why would you want to go back home a few days before you needed to? You probably won’t be getting to his apartment for the next few hours, though, so you could reach out to her later in the day.

While she had the time on her hands, Victoria was going to try and pry the information out of him— just so she can get an idea of what’s going on.

“Dami,” she called out after he announced a small break for the band. “How are you?”

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95 notes • Posted 2021-08-25 15:24:10 GMT

three years of you. masterlist

Main Masterlist

Last Updated: September 28th, 2021

Damiano David x GN!Musician!Reader

Summary: After a horrible falling out with someone whom everyone thought was an angel, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Even if that means calling out the devil.

inspiration from Love Me or Leave Me by @literallymitch

———————————————————————-

(1) i love you.

(2) cruel summer.

(3) tear myself apart.

(4) good 4 u.

104 notes • Posted 2021-07-28 23:01:30 GMT

No Need To Worry — B.B.

40s!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Summary: After Bucky and the other soldiers were rescued, Bucky, Steve, and some of the other soldiers went to a bar to relax. Who would’ve thought that a few beers could turn into something more? (3rd Person POV)

Word Count: ≈5.1k (wha-😃)

Warnings: extreme fluff, cursing, it gets a little spicy but also doesn’t at the same time, sorta alludes to loss of virginities, alcohol consumption, Bucky gets upset at reader but nothing too crazy happens, sadness (If i missed anything, please tell me!)

A/N: This one-shot is for @startrekkingaroundasgard ‘s writing challenge. I had sooo much fun writing this. It was originally supposed to be smut, but I chickened out lmao. I hope you enjoy this regardless, though! (I added the picture prompt for the header thing— if you don’t want it there, just tell me and i’ll remove it)

———————————————————————-

Steve Rogers had just gotten some-400 men out of the hands of German scientists. They were so relieved to have been saved after quite a few weeks of being Prisoners of War. After returning to America, Steve wanted to go back and take down HYDRA. So, he took on the responsibility to assemble a team to go with him.

“See,” Bucky said to Steve, who was walking over to the bar. He had just convinced a couple of guys to join him going back to Germany. All they needed were a couple beers and were drawn-in immediately. “They’re all idiots.”

“How about you?” Steve asked, “You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

“Hell no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight… I’m following him,” Bucky replied, earning a small grin from Steve. “But, you’re keeping the outfit, right?”

“You know what? It’s kinda growing on me.”

“Well I think it looks remarkable, Captain Rogers,” a lady’s voice said, putting an arm around the two boys. Steve and Bucky turned their heads slightly and were met with a familiar face. “Hello, boys.”

“Y/N!” Steve exclaimed, standing up to give her a hug. “Surprised to see you here. Bars aren’t really your thing.”

“Well, they are when I know my two idiot friends just came back from a war. Speaking of,” she slapped Bucky’s shoulder, “don’t scare me like that, Barnes. Becky had me thinking you were dead.” He smiled sadly and stood up to hug her too.

“My bad, doll. Next time, I’ll make sure to write,” he wittily replied. She scoffed and sat down in between the two boys. “And, by the way, if you’re calling Steve ‘Captain’, then you get to call me ‘Sergeant’. Understood?”

“Yes, Sarge,” she replied while saluting him, making the two boys laugh. The soldiers Steve recruited had been singing quite loudly for the last few minutes, and it came as a surprise when the singing ceased. Steve, Y/N, and Bucky turned their heads to the doorway and saw the one and only Agent Peggy Carter. She was dressed in a beautiful red dress— something that no one would normally see her in. No wonder the boys stopped singing; they were in awe.

The boys stood up when she walked in, and Y/N stayed sitting in her chair, unsure of what she was supposed to do.

“Captain,” Peggy greeted.

“Agent Carter,” greeted Steve.

“Ma’am,” said Bucky. Peggy looked at the girl sitting at the bar, knowing who she was, and waved at her. Y/N waved back and gave her a nice little grin.

“Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?” she asked Steve.

“Sounds good.” Steve was eyeing her, and both Y/N and Bucky picked up on it. Though, Bucky was more focused on Peggy himself to really give it a second thought.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty.”

“You don’t like music?”

See the full post

155 notes • Posted 2021-07-09 04:48:38 GMT

did y’all have a Jelsa phase, or was that just me?

180 notes • Posted 2021-07-27 14:27:19 GMT

three years of you. — i love you.

Damiano David x GN!Musician!Reader series

Main Masterlist — 3yrs Masterlist

Summary: a late-night argument turned into a mess he couldn’t fix with a simple, ‘sorry.’ (Part 1)

Word Count: ≈3k

Warnings: angst, some cursing, Victoria being a supportive bestie (tell me if i missed anything) *Part One in a series*

A/N: i don’t know Italian whatsoever, so any phrases that i used have a crazy chance of being wrong— that’s on me. if i did mess anything up, please tell me. Also, this isn’t really proofread 😬

———————————————————————-

The crowd was screaming. It was probably one of the loudest crowds you had seen. Your smile grew across your face and the adrenaline started kicking in. Your heart was racing. Maybe it was just nerves from performing— that’s normal, right?

You took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, calming yourself. Slowly, you moved the microphone up to your mouth, opening it to say…

——

“Damiano talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about!”

Your boyfriend had come home late, again. Of course, given the fact that he was working on another album, he was going to be stressed and he was going to come home late. That was normal, especially for the way Damiano works. But, recently, he had been distant from you, which was odd. For the three and a half years you two were together, him being distant never happened. So, when the time came, you grew concerned

“You never have anything to talk about,” you snapped back. “Everyday for weeks on end, you’re at the studio, and you come home at ungodly hours to not even acknowledge the fact that I exist. And, I know that you’re busy, but it would be nice to have my boyfriend back every once in a while!”

“You really think that?” Damiano asked, almost offended

“Yes.”

“The only reason I have to ignore you right now is because you’re being a selfish, ignorant bitch!” He yelled, storming off into your shared bedroom. You stayed in the living space, pissed off and upset at Damiano, when you heard shuffling in the room. You looked down into the hallway and saw Damiano rummaging through his drawer for some clothes.

“What are you doing?” You asked, walking closer to the bedroom.

“Sleeping in the extra bedroom. You obviously hate me right now, so I don’t want to be more of a burden to you. I’m grabbing clothes so you won’t have to see me in the morning. I’ll leave before you wake up— you won’t even know I was here,” he explained, not making any eye contact with you. He had all of his clothes in hand and some of his bathroom items, and exited the bed teem and stormed into the guest bedroom down the hall. You watched him as he did so, and when he closed the door, tears started forming in your eyes. Sighing, you walked into the room again, and closed the door behind you. You walked over to the bed and went under the covers, and started bawling. You tried not to make too much noise, since Damiano was probably trying to sleep. However, after a few minutes of sobbing and sniffling, you could hear a few whimpers from the guest bedroom— you immediately knew it was Damiano. You didn’t have the energy or forgiveness at the moment to walk in there and comfort him.

Eventually, you did end up falling asleep for quite awhile. You woke up around noon, and it was the best sleep you had gotten in a while. After eating and brushing your teeth— not even bothering to change out of your pajamas— you pulled out your phone and opened up Victoria’s contact to message her.

call me when you’re on break

ok, is everything fine?

yeah, i just need to talk :)

You closed your phone and set it down on the kitchen table, getting back to work. You were emailing your manager, since your band wanted to start recording another album. Everyone was trying to work out a start date, so they don’t plan a lot for the next upcoming months.

About an hour and a half after you texted Victoria, she called.

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188 notes • Posted 2021-07-28 23:00:02 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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ykaaaras · 24 days

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Shiver

Damiano and Daniela are friends since deep childhood, whole life they felt comfortable together, however, Damiano starts to develop feelings for Daniela and it’s danger to their friendship. Daniela herself doesn’t feel signals from Damiano, she’s messed up in her head and has a lot of problems in her life, Damiano is her safety island.

#it looks like sketch but whole comic will look like sketch so #the shiver #cover #comics #comic art #web comic #art #digital art #description #damiano david #maneskin #måneskin #oc #original character #fan comic #fan fiction #måneskin fic #since I CANT write a fan fiction because of poor English. I’ll draw it idc #I’ll post as much as I want

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written-on-the-trees · 2 years

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Hot Chocolate Kiss - Damiano David Imagine

My first time writing for the Maneskin fandom! I hope I haven't butchered Damiano's character...or the Italian language...

Prompt: Hot Chocolate

Summary: Bethany has had a really hard week...and the presence of her boyfriend isn't making it any better.

Find it here on Ao3, find the rest of this year's imagines (the two I've written so far, anyway) here, and find last years imagines here.

It had been a really shit week.

Bethany had known by about eleven o’clock on Monday that her week was going to be tough; her co-worker had gone on holiday and her boss expected to cover both her own work and her co-workers, it was the week before pay-day which meant she was broke, and the weather forecasts had been talking about rain, sleet, and snow. On top of all that, her Seasonal Affective Disorder had been kicking her arse, and her boyfriend was off in LA, living his best life.

She really wasn’t surprised that, by the time she’d gotten in from work on Friday evening, soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone by the sleet that had meant to come down yesterday, that she felt like shit.

Even if she’d been having a good week, being cold and wet would’ve made her annoyed – and after the week from Hell, Bethany was just about done. She couldn’t be fucked with making dinner, or getting in the shower, or even responding the missed calls on her phone from Damiano. All she wanted was to drink a mug of hot chocolate and to crawl into bed for at least twenty-four hours.

Fuck the weather, fuck her job, fuck Damiano – fuck all of it; Bethany was done for the week. She’d deal with all of it on Monday.

And for now, she was going to dig some Baileys or amaretto out of the cupboard to spike her hot chocolate.

Gotta treat myself somehow.

Bethany boiled a kettle and got out a mug to pour the sachet of instant hot chocolate in. It wouldn’t be as nice as the way she normally made hot chocolate, but she wouldn’t care when she poured the alcohol in. Damiano always turned his nose up at instant hot chocolate…but he wasn’t here, so what did his opinion matter?

Motherfucker.

Sighing, Bethany turned to the cupboard where she kept her booze. She wasn’t really angry at Damiano; it wasn’t his fault he was achieving all his dreams while she was stuck working in an office job she hated. Normally she was genuinely and deeply happy for him…but she was just struggling to muster up any positive emotion towards anything right now. Even the amaretto she found didn’t cheer her up; she barely managed a vague feeling of relief that there was one thing that hadn’t gone tits up today.

Pouring the freshly boiled water into the mug, Bethany gave it a vigorous – someone might even say aggressive…but that person could fuck right off – stir to dissolve the hot chocolate powder, before adding a good glug of the amaretto, and lifting the mug to her lips.

“Tesoro mio, please tell me that you aren’t going to drink that…filth.”

Bethany was so surprised at the unexpected voice from behind her, that she almost jumped out of her skin…and promptly spilled her drink over her hand and down her chest.

Her chest was mostly okay; it wasn’t comfortable, but her thick jumper took the worst of the burn…but her hand felt like she’d held it in a candle flame too long. She swore under her breath, dumping the half-empty mug on the counter, and rushed over to the sink to run her hand under the cold tap.

Damiano was behind her a second later, making concerned noises and trying to get a look at her hand, but Bethany shrugged him off.

Just like his absence, this situation wasn’t his fault…but although she knew that rationally, it wasn’t the rational part of her brain wasn’t the bit in control at the moment.

“What the fuck, Damiano?” she hissed over her shoulder at him: “You couldn’t have said something at any point before I was holding a mug of hot chocolate.”

Never one to de-escalate a situation, Damiano sneered: “Well, excuse me for thinking you weren’t actually going to drink that shit. I thought you had taste.”

At this point, Bethany didn’t feel like de-escalating the situation either: “What gave you that impression? I’m dating you, aren’t I?”

“You know what? Vaffanculo. I came back to this shithole to see you, not to be bitched at. I don’t have to be here!”

“Then don’t be! Telling me to fuck off in my own house – you fuck off! Get the fuck out!” by the end of her exclamation, Bethany’s eyes were itching with tears, but Damiano didn’t seem to notice, and she was glad.

She hated crying during a fight; it always made her feel like a little kid again, and she did not need that right now.

Instead, she tilted her chin up defiantly when Damiano glared at her, and glared right back until he threw his hands up and turned to stalk away from her. Bethany let him go, instead heading to her bedroom and slamming the door shut behind her. She waited for the front door to slam behind Damiano, making sure he was gone, before falling onto the bed and immediately bursting into tears.

She’d had to wait for him to leave; Bethany was not a quiet crier. She was loud: her choked off sobs echoing in the empty room. Even when she buried her face in the pillow, it still filled up the whole space and it was all she could hear.

She didn’t know how long she cried for; it felt like forever, but eventually her tears dried up and Bethany was left with itchy eyes, a stuffy nose, and a killer headache, laying alone in the dark in her empty flat.

Or not so empty…

“Tesoro?” there was a soft knock on the bedroom door, half a second before Bethany heard it open: “Tesoro, I…mi dispiace tantissimo…I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Bethany looked up – and instantly dropped her head when she saw Damiano wince at the sight of her.

She dropped her head back into the pillows, hiding her no-doubt hideous puffy eyes and blotchy face. It was another reason she hated crying – it always made her look piteous, and it always felt like a bid for sympathy, even when it definitely wasn’t.

Pity was probably the only reason Damiano came to sit next to her on the bed and lay his hand on her shoulder – and she couldn’t bear being pitied. She resisted when he gently tugged at her shoulder, refusing to look at him and hoping that he would just leave…but of course, for all his quick temper, Damiano was a good person. He’d never leave her when she was obviously in such a state.

Instead, he lay down next to her, wrapping and arm around her and pulling her into his side. He urged her to tuck her face into the space between his neck and shoulder…and Bethany went along with it, if only to avoid having to look at him.

Of course, just because she couldn’t see him didn’t mean she couldn’t hear him: “I’m so sorry, tesoro; I didn’t mean to make you cry. It sounded like you were having a bad time, and then you stopped taking my calls, I only wanted to cheer you up.”

“I know,” Bethany muttered in response, because of course Damiano had had good intentions: “I know. I was tired and taken by surprise and my hand hurt, but none of that is any excuse. I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”

“We were both bitches.” Damiano accepted her apology easily: “But I knew you were having a bad time with your boss being a cunt and overworking you, so I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that and made you jump.”

“You couldn’t have known I’d be an idiot and spill everything down myself.” Bethany responded, wanting to absolve him of his guilt: “Beside, you were right. It probably was shit.”

She could picture the face Damiano pulled, and couldn’t help smiling at it.

It was a stereotype that Italians were particular about their food, but it held true for Damiano. He had strong opinions on food, and had the skills to back them up. He was almost as much of a god in the kitchen as he was on stage – although Bethany had been warned separately by Victoria, Ethan, and Thomas to never admit that to him, lest his ego become equally god-like – and cooking was definitely one of his strong points, for all he didn’t get into the kitchen much.

“It smelt like when you wash up the bowl you make brownies with. Only with booze.” Damiano admitted, sounding a little sheepish: “But you still wanted hot chocolate, so I made you some more.”

Bethany finally looked up: “You didn’t have to – ”

Damiano cut her off with a gentle kiss on the lips: “I know. But I wanted to cheer you up. My nonna used to make this for me when I was sad…without the amaretto, anyway.”

He urged her to sit up right – and gently helped her to loose both her jumper and the blouse underneath – before handing her a mug of sweet smelling hot chocolate.

It was nothing like the one she made, or even the nice version of the hot chocolate she made; it was thick, so thick she could almost eat it rather than drink it…and she did spoon a few ‘bites’ into her mouth while Damiano stripped himself of his t-shirt, and offered it to her.

She took it, trading it for the hot chocolate so she could put it on and then shimmy out of her jeans while Damiano took his own sip of hot chocolate. He handed it back to her once she was dressed for bed, kissing her on the forehead again and slipping out of the room. Bethany didn’t get the change to ask where he was going; he was back seconds later, holding the fluffy blanket that was usually draped over the sofa.

“I thought we could just cozy up. There’s nothing we have to do tonight.” he explained, throwing the blanket over the duvet before tucking both over Bethany’s legs: “We can take it easy.”

“That sounds amazing.”

Damiano grinned and climbed into bed next to Bethany, wrapping and arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side.

Bethany offered him a sip of the hot chocolate he’d made…but instead he leaned into to give her a slow, open-mouthed kiss.

“Tastes better on you, tesoro mio.”

#Damiano David #Damiano David imagine #Damiano David fanfic #Damiano David fan fic #Damiano David fan fiction #Damiano David fluff #Damiano David one-shot #Maneskin imagine #Maneskin #The Trees' Christmas 2021 Writing Collection

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filthforfriends · 2 years

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Thomas Raggi at iHeart Radio: Alter Ego 2022

#you know that post that says support your fan fic writers? support your gif makes this shit I’d way harder #måneskin #damiano david #thomas raggi #maneskin #damiano #thomas maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano maneskin #victoria de angelis #ethan maneskin #må #iheart radio

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filthforfriends · 3 years

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The Performance

Damiano x Ethan

Words: 1886

This work was inspired by Your Breath on my Skin by Palatinedreams on AO3. It takes place after Chapter 10: Show me.

For quick context (spoilers) see bottom of post.

Summary: Dominant Ethan and submissive Damiano are new to their dynamic. Ethan takes him on an outing to expose Damiano to the BDSM world that intimidates him, with mixed results. Damiano struggles with his new position, but all he wants is to be Ethan’s good boy. And he might be failing.

TW: social anxiety, consenual torture, angst, drinking, swearing

Damiano does not know why Ethan thought a dungen would be less intimidating than a sex club. The first set of stairs descend from the sidewalk to the subterranean entrance of a townhouse. By the second set, amongst the velvet upholstery and dimmed lighting, Damiano feels swallowed alive by his kink. Ethan had a strong grip on his waist, but with how singular Damia felt, his Dom might as well have not been there at all. Everyone had agreed that it’d be good for them to try this without Thomas and Victoria, but right now all Damia really wanted was to know someone. By the third set of stairs it became apparent that Ethan did know plenty of people here: acquaintances, flings, friends, even confidants. Somehow, He had entirely missed his Dom making himself a member of a community, and now Dami was acutely aware of his own ego.

It was the first time in memory that Damiano didn’t have the social advantage and it made him feel exposed in a way that was less self actualizing and more blind panic. This wasn’t a feeling he associated with Ethan. Damia ducked his head, careful not to catch the gaze or attention of anyone who’d see him sulking his way to the belly of a beast called depravity. There wasn’t a fourth set of stairs. There was a man begging to be crucified by a bald woman wearing a neon orange strap on.

Ethan steered Dami away from the scene like he was a child not allowed to go on the big kid rides at the fair, with no complaints from the submissive partner. The other side of this floor could almost be called a bar, if not for the screams that carry so clearly through the wall. There's good music playing, but Damiano doesn’t feel like dancing.This may be the vanilla side of the venue, but he jumps out of his skin every time he hears an unexpected shriek.

He gets why his Dom would think this the best place to start. It is smaller, classier, less crowded, and devoid of tourists. Ethan knows the people, but Damia still gets a clean slate to explore his identity. It should be ideal, but Damiano is handling it all wrong and overthinking everything. He’s glad that his Dom takes a seat so he can anchor himself. He sits at the feet of his dominant partner, thankful he had Thomas to mirror the first time they entered kink space like this. Thomas, with his flawless submission and cherished collar. Damiano knew it was too early in the dynamic for expectations, but another part of him yearned to collared by Ethan so intensely that it ached.

“Puppet, are you anxious?” Damiano is finally able to feel Ethan’s warmth where his face cradles in Ethan’s supple palm, like coming back into his body. “Puppet? Hey-” Ethan lifts his submissive’s chin to get his attention. “Puppet?” This is when Damiano realizes he's supposed to make a noise in response.

“Hm yeah?” Puppet grabs his Dom’s thigh to pull himself upright from slouching on the floor and towards cognisents.

“Are you feeling anxious?” A scream rings through that makes Dami cringe and his Dom curse himself. How could he not consider that this background noise would be jarring to his poor Puppet? Dami hadn’t spent years researching, dabbling in, and fretting over BDSM like Ethan had. For him, it was truly new, and Ethan was aware that he had properly fucked up this second chance at a first impression for his puppet.

“Um -” Damiano looks around, paranoid. He’s nervous about others listening in and violating the sacred closeness of their dynamic. Damiano then realizes that he has to trust hes taken care of, that his Dom would have made sure this conversation was just their’s. “Yeah. I’m not really sure why...” Dami responds, unaware that hes gripping Ethan’s leg so hard that his finger nails are leaving bruising crescents on the skin under the leather pants the dominant adorns.

Ethan holds his gaze and starts to take a deep breath in and his sub follows. Deep breathing together was something the dominant had introduced in their yoga practice, but found it was a great tool otherwise. Before and after a show, scene, or a fight, intense emotion, as well as panic attacks. For the dominant of the pair it was like harmonizing their bodies, getting them in sync. For the other, it was to establish a sameness between them that the submissive found comforting.

Ethan laced his fingers between the hand rested on his thigh. He gave his submissive an apologetic look when the next shriek of pleasure rang through. Some doms would refuse to admit to a mistake, but some doms weren’t Ethan. Nor were they in love with their submissive in a way they’re terrified to verbalize.

“Sweetness, my love, do you want to try a quieter venue?” It was a lovely reminder to Damia of what Ethan had said before, that the submissive is the one who truly has control. There was no explanation needed under his Dom's gentle gaze, he simply saw his submissive’s discomfort, and centered his attention on rectifying it. This was Damiano’s favorite part, the intimacy between just them, and he would give drowning out the sound effects a fair try.

“I want to know everything about you,” he responded, and it was true. Feeling now the night could be salvaged, Puppet was hell bent on enjoying himself. He was going to make tonight work, starting with the consumption of two strong drinks at an expeditious speed. Now that socializing felt possible, Damia looked to the three subs in his vicinity.

“Ciao” he said softly, and to no response. No one speaks Italian, he could work with that. “Hi there” he murmured, adding sweetness and warmth to his voice, and giving a bashful smile. Nothing. When the silence became agonizing, a chubby brunette wearing a wide leather collar and a tail replied.

“Hi there.” It was an act of charity. He must have broken a rule for submissives that he didn’t know existed. The combination of failure and rejection was searing because it was so forign.It burned on his neck, where there were long expanses of skin, unbridled. He was the only one without a collar or necklace. The barren planes of Damia’s neck make him feel like an animal with a bright white underbelly and no ability to camouflage.

“They’re not allowed to speak, Puppet.”

“Sorry,” said, barely audible.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, love.” To Damiano, it was like looking at the sun. He flourished under the attention and structure from his Dom. To be looked at this way, to be another’s entire world, would be terrifying if it wasn’t Ethan’s greatest honor and highest privilege to be his Puppet’s entire world. He wanted to covet the multitudes that were Damiano David, he wanted to feel the galaxy, beating with energy, contained in his embrace.

“Why am I allowed to talk?”

“Because I made the decision that silencing you did not feel like a natural part of our dynamic. I also think it may be a soft limit for you and we’re not at a place in our communication where we can test your limits.” The rational part of Damiano’s mind knew that his Dom was saying he wasn’t experienced enough yet, that this was an issue of safety. However there was another part of his brain that heard “you’re not good enough at being my submissive yet.” His fingers again itched to touch the expanse of neck where a collar would be, but was absent.

Ethan ran his nails up the back of his Puppet’s scalp. As musicians, they all had to keep them short, but still, the action made Damia completely malleable. When Dom grabbed the hair at the top of his head and gently tugged, so Puppet would lean against his legs, Damia felt it resound in his bones. The leather of his Dom’s pants stuck to his skin under his mesh top. Ethan ran his thumb between his eyebrows, smoothing down the bridge of his hooked nose to relax the uneasy look from his face.

“I can’t decide whether giving you a third drink is the best or worst idea right now.” Ethan was rewarded with one of those rare, uncalculated smiles. Dami’s face was the most schooled of anyone he’d met. His Puppet always had the appropriate, charismatic expression ready. He both kept the onlooker enthralled in what he might do next and was in total control. His magnetism was natural and well curated. Damia knew that with endless cellphone cameras, the world was watching, and he was exemplary at managing that. Which is why their dynamic was so vital to his well being, even therapeutic. He could only see Damia’s left profile, but he recognized it by the way the corners of Damiano’s lips upturned, as though they shared a secret. There was something sly in the way he tried to smile without teeth. Although he wasn’t smirking with his beautiful mouth, he may have with his eyes.

Ethan remembered the first time he’d seen that secret smile within their dynamic. Puppet didn't realize he’d come in the door because he was too busy screaming at a football game in the living room. For all the expletives and macho threats, Ethan found him laying under a blanket, taking a sip of tea, then placing the mug on a coaster. He watched his Puppet carefully tuck his arm back under the cheap, fuzzy blanket, and try to shimmy it up all the way to his neck. Something on the TV made Dami smile instead of cheer and it was that secret smile. It was all Ethan could do to watch, try to make out Damiano’s body under the blanket, try not to not make himself known until Dami reverted back to jeering at the opposing team.

“There is a man begging to have nails put through his hands,” a timely wail resounded in the bar, “and you’re worried about my alcohol consumption?”

Ethan snorted and said, “I guarantee that was much better planned than your alcohol consumption, Puppet.”

“Well I would fucking hope so.” The Dom laughed and realized that they were being too loud for this particular section.

“Let me introduce you to some of my friends, now that you’re feeling more yourself, Puppet.” He stood up from his chair, then helped his submissive rise from the floor, reclasping their hands and leading him to the bar.

“Will they even talk back?” Ethan gave him a look that made Dami add, “my Dom” to the end of the sentence. The damage was done, Puppet had forgotten he wasn’t to use sarcasm.This wasn’t his place to mock.

“You sure as will, apparently.” The dominant gave him a warning look that let Puppet know there would be consequences when they arrived home. His eyes weren’t unkind and Damiano found it exciting when his Dom snapped at him because it was so unlike the zen, anti-conflict band member he loved. It was a side of Ethan reserved just for his submissive, and Damia, perhaps naively, was so ready to say “yes sir” when his punishment was doled out.

Work: The Performance, Part 1 of 2

Context: Dominant Victoria and submissive Thomas have been in a long term dynamic. Thomas has helped guide Damiano. All four go to a big BDSM club for Damiano’s first outing and he has a panic attack.

Notes: I love feedback! I’ll have this posed on AO3 in a couple weeks under the same title. This is all fiction and I know nothing. Please let me know if Palatinedreams on AO3 has a Tumblr, I want to credit them!

Masterlist

Part 2

#damiano david #ethan torchio #maneskin #damiano david x reader #damiano david smut #damiano david fanfiction #ethan torchio x reader #ethan maneskin #maneskin imagine #maneskin smut #maneskin x reader #fan fic smut #fan fiction #i write fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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filthforfriends · 3 years

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Carmel Freckles and Other Places to Put Your Tongue

Thomas x original female character

Word count: 2296

Summary: Ironically, Piper wouldn’t have met Thomas in Rome if she hadn’t almost fucked Damiano the night previous. She was in LA to see her boyfriend, but things keep getting in the way of appeasing Piper’s libido. Traffic, writing sessions, Damiano drama, and time. Falling for Thomas felt like falling into place, but memories weren’t enough to sustain a relationship.

TW: sex, swearing, alcohol, weed, angst, conflict

Piper was half way through her sleep cycle by the time Thomas came back. She’d touched down in LAX at 9pm the day prior, with a layover in London, whose plane was delayed. Customs made Piper think that God had chosen right now to punish her for the impure thoughts of Thomas that had addled her mind for the entirety of her flight. She’d written down the dirtiest of them in her journal, maybe to leave for him, when she flew back almost a month from now. However, Piper knew she wouldn’t have that patience when she could torment Thomas so deliciously tangibly and in the flesh. She’d forced herself not to think about where this journey would end, because if she did, she’d get so excited that the hours of wait would be unbearable.

However, now, standing on the concrete of the same continent as him, Piper felt like a live wire, exposed to taking in the energy around it. The smile of the man at the Hertz car rental stand seemed sweeter. The insesinst traffic agitated Piper even more than usual. At least she could drive in her home country. Ubering across European countries was bougie until Piper learned that the taxi list included Italy. Her boyfriend may have a license, but by the time Thomas should have been practicing, he was already knee deep in a music career. Like a tractor, Thomas’s driving, while legal, was definitely not road safe.

Piper didn’t know the city, or even the state, but she daydreamed that she was driving around with her boyfriend. Thomas developed these caramel colored freckles under his eyes when he got enough sun. The sight made her downright ferrell. His hair got blonder, and in her mind’s eye, the window was down and the wind was blowing it off his cheekbones. Everytime Piper held Thomas’s face between her hands, she used her fingers to push his hair back. The others were beautiful, but Tommy was handsome, and he covered that like it was a flaw. It wasn't.

She would only call him Tommy in her head. He hated it (for now). However, Piper insisted that Tommy Raggi had a rockstar ring to it, especially when you roll the “R” a little extra.. She imagined some award show mishap where the performance guitarist was indisposed and the artist was going to be forced to use playback. Instead he--it was usually Ringo Star--would welcome a young guest musician who’d stepped in at the last moment.

“Please welcome special guest guitarist Tommy Raggi!” And then after her boyfriend had melted the faces of onlookers with his epic musicianship Ringo or whomever would thank him. “I don’t know what they’re putting in the water these days, but this kid is one hell of a musician. He jumped in at the last second and made it work, so let's hear a round of applause for my young friend!” Piper would be going ballistic from the wings. When her fantasy really got going there was some comment that they hadn’t heard playing like Thomas’s since the 70’s, a standing ovation, and sex in the bathroom directly afterwards. Sure Piper was concerned she had maladaptive daydreaming disorder, but what the hell else was she supposed to do in traffic?

She’d try to avoid driving Thomas through this shit, but then the idea of being stuck in a car with her boyfriend super glued itself to her frontal lobe. She’d be finally able to smell him: shampoo, shaving cream, moisturizer, cologne, deodorant, and sweat. Kaitlyn, her closest friend, had always said that you know you’re really attracted to a guy when you like the smell of his sweat. Piper didn’t get it until Tommy. Sometimes, when they’d fuck in the heat Piper would pull him down and press her nose against his neck to smell his pheramones. She loves when they’re slick with sweat and Thomas is sheathed inside her to the hilt. Its gross, so fucking hot, and gives a delicious ache. Piper sucks not to bruise, but to taste. She’ll take mental notes of the soft, fragile skin on his neck, textured with pores. Piper counted Tommy’s pores with her mouth.

Driving down the interstate, all caramel freckles, blond hair blown back, exposed forehead, sun kissed cheeks, burned nose, and the naked planes of his chest. Thomas’s creamy skin filled up the car. This was her body’s anthem and Piper wanted to taste the salt of Thomas’s sweat when she licked it off his body. In all honesty, Piper wanted to give Tommy a bath with her tongue, but she was stuck behind a dusty minivan on I-5 going 40mph in a 60 zone. Which sure, wasn’t that bad since it was past 10pm. However, the baby on board bumper sticker on the car in front of Piper made her thoughts feel downright sacreligious. Piper was jolted out of said thoughts when she had to slam on her brakes. Apparently, regardless of whether there’re children in the car, people still don’t use their fucking turn signal!

Of course when she got to his apartment things were good. They were good all night and good when they slept in late. Thomas missed half of their first writing session of today, which was an issue since having quality time to devote to music was a rarity. Like most things, it became an issue because Damiano made it so. It may be a bit simplistic, but if Damiano held himself to the same standard he sometimes does his bandmates, he’d actually be the demigod he fancies himself. Piper respected that Dami’s passion and emotional intensity are what made the songs and performances work. However, there were some days where it just looked like mood swings. On those days it seemed that if Damiano was any more a martyr, he might throw his back out of strain a tendon in his other hand too.

You told Thomas as much today over a cynical text diatribe while he was at the studio. You got a snapchat notification from Vic and momentarily panicked, then realized she’d find the text contents hilarious too. Fuck so would Damiano. A bit of teasing was necessary to keep him in check. The Snapchat was a video she’d taken in an idle moment, of Thomas on his phone. His eyes ran back and forth across the screen as he read. Piper realized that Vic had, out of coincidence, taken the video while her boyfriend was seeing her message. Tommy’s face evolved from a quiet smile, to a huff of surprise, to an outright laugh, which he tried to keep under control, hand over his mouth as his rib cage quivered.

Damiano walked into the room, saw Thomas, and goodnaturedly questioned “what are you laughing at?” He was out of frame, but his voice was totally innocent. Like school children, Vic started to laugh too and then Thomas gave in, rolling flat on his back, arms thrown out wide on the insulated studio floor like a snow angel. The only word was “You?” The brother-sister relationship between Victoria and Thomas was the core of the band dynamic, in Piper’s opinion. Also in Piper’s opinion, this was no way to make an album, sandwiched between two looming tours. Any spats could be prevented if they had time to be human beings. But that wasn’t profitable.

Her friendship with Damiano informed her of band dynamics.In a time of pressure, he was going to take all the good and all upon himself, feeling like it was his duty. He would try to shield everyone out of love, not realizing no one asked to be shielded, even if they needed to be. Then, Damiano would feel hurt when all the stress endured on behalf of his band members went unthanked. Meanwhile, they’re wondering why Damia has an ego so big he demands gratitude out of the blue. He’s yelling, so upset that there are tears on his cheeks, and for what? Victoria was the best salve for this kind of wound. There existed an inexplicable bond: sexual, friendship, familial, even spiritual. It was none of these things and also all of them at the same time. Piper knew because she had met Damiano in one of his episodes as an Italian exchange student. Listening to men cry at a bar was pretty far down on her list, but his words were beautiful, as was he, and so magnetic.

“Americana bella,” he purred, stroking her face with the back of his hand. The husk in his voice couldn’t hide his words from slurring. The light reflected off the gold cross hanging from his neck, like a movie. When Piper could smell the alcohol on his breath, she knew he was in trouble, not because he was too close, but because she couldn’t discern the smell of any particular liquor. Damiano had been mixing, which was lethal.

When they danced, it was as though Dami were dancing with her, around her, and with the music itself. She’d thought that Damia was the embodiment of what she craved: passionate, artistic, fiery, a bit crazy, with beautiful eyes. Now, Piper thanks the heavens they didn’t have sex that night. His phone was going off so frequently that Piper knew he was dearly missed. He refused to go back home after the fight, but was too trashed to get himself a hotel room. So, Piper propped him on her couch with a blanket, a bucket, and a prayer in her heart that he wouldn’t puke on the carpet. The next morning, a chipper Damia thought she was so great that he invited her on a picnic with his bandmates, whom he’d made up with over the phone.

Tourists and locals mixing was typical in the cities of friendly countries. The language barrier often made things interesting. Like right now, walking with Dami on the grass, weaving through groups of college students smoking. Besides a hug, he hadn’t touched her, not even brushing hands. Piper didn’t really question it when he’d slipped out that morning, but it was past noon and devoid of a hangover, so did they not almost fuck last night?

“How much of last night do you remember?” she asked, hinting.

“Oh, all of it I think,” he said kindly. The words were warm, but not outright flirtatious.

“Cool. Thanks for not puking on my floor.” He laughed, looking a bit shy or self conscious.

“I can usually handle my alcohol, I promise. Thank you for letting me sleep on your couch. I hope I wasn’t um-” Damiano lit a cigarette, searching for the words.

“You weren’t.” Piper returned with a reassuring smile. His lips pursed around the filter and cheeks hollowed as he took a pull. His face was almost too angular to be attractive. She was starting to realize that she had confused fiery sexual chemistry with drinking whiskey with a beautiful companion while horny. Damia had probably done this enough times to pick up on that before her.

“I’d like to be friends and maybe have some fun,” he insinuated, bashfully, “or maybe not. Either way you’re a cool person, y’know?” He was giving her a choice and wouldn’t punish her for making it either way. Of course she didn’t recognize this behavior from a man, she was from Tennessee.

“Yeah, I feel the same.” A weight seemed to lift from Damiano and the tension in the air dissolved.

“Okay,” he said, a full smile coming easy. “So my bandmates-” he motioned with his hand in the place of proper grammar, “Victoria, Thomas, and Ethan. I think Victoria brought couple friends and it will also be Leo as well. See, right up there.” He pointed to a group sitting on a ratty Bob Marley blanket. A blond girl got up and embraced Dami as soon as they came upon them. This seemed to settle something and the group visibly relaxed, slouching against the tree, on the blanket, against grass. First, a boy who looked Indigenous American introduced himself as Ethan. The guy next to him was laying on his stomach, propped up on denim clad elbows, running blades of grass between his pointer finger and thumb. Ethan stared at the boy, waiting a beat for him to introduce himself.

“Thomas! Tom-” he looked to Ethan, then directly up at Piper, and then never ever looked away.

“Hey, I’m Thomas,” he had the thickest accent when he spoke. Piper yearned to keep looking at his face. It felt strange to stand above someone laying down, so she sat. They never broke eye contact, his gaze watchful and entranced. Piper crouched in the grass and Thomas pushed up to his hands and sat back on his heels. They held each other's gaze, the act of doing so while Thomas rearranged his body was somehow intimate. He grabbed Piper’s elbow and pulled her closer. He wanted to know how it’d feel to touch her.

“On the blanket” he murmured, “it’s better.” Piper scootered forward on her knees and looked into his eyes again. Thomas had beautiful eyes, there was no doubt. The light through the branches of the trees hit his face just right, and Piper stared at the green in the golden brown of his irises. Tommy’s eyes were emotional, empathetic, compelling, and most of all intense. All her life Piper had thought that for a man to be exciting he must also be fiery. As such, each man burned her to the bone. In this very precise moment, she realized that all along she’d been wrong. Thomas’s intensity was solid ground, it was the earth washed clean after the storm. Exciting, fucking electrifying, his eyes made Piper’s believe in the existence of the soul.

Work: Tommy (1/?)

Notes: My first time posting fanfiction so I’d love feedback! I will have this posted on AO3 in a couple weeks under the same title.

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filthforfriends · 3 years

Text

The Performance

(Part 2) Here is Part 1

Damiano x Ethan

Words: 3224

This work was inspired by Your Breath on my Skin by Palatinedreams on AO3. It takes place after “Chapter 10: Show me.” For quick context (spoilers) see bottom of post.

TW: anxiety, angst, sex, discussion of kink, BDSM, discussion of consent, swearing

At least half a dozen people loitering around the bar counter recognized Ethan as he came up to order. One of them seemed to be a sub like Damia, distinctly not in the role of servitude, allowed to speak as openly as their partner. Even in his head, Puppet wasn’t comfortable using the pronouns he or she to describe this person, because they seemed perched on the fence which would separate the two. Their olive skin was slick with sweat and tattooed. Their nature was feline, curled around their dominant like an animal, observant, but with the inclination that upon proper provocation, they could viciously pounce.

Their dominant was dressed in gold and full bodied, like a powerful bourgeois awaiting the world to kneel. This wasn’t a dominance like Ethan or Victoria. This woman had wrinkles around her mouth like the way a river carves itself into the landscape. Like a river, it seemed she had learned the wisdom to eb and flow, preserve and express. If dominant energy could take shape, Ethan’s would be rounded edges and hers would be sharp like a knife taken to a wet stone. A blade ground deadly for years of experience. There was a reverence amongst anyone uninebriated, their senses open to know they were in the presence of a queen. Dami bowed his head because his instincts told him so.

“Ethan it's lovely to see that your desires have come to fruition.” The queen's voice was affectionate, almost maternal when she addressed his Dom. Ethan was hard not to love. Dami felt himself being observed by multiple sets of eyes, looked at as Ethan’s boy. He had to force himself not to get inappropriately excited to be seen as property of Ethan, as belonging to Ethan. Perhaps following his urges as a submissive, not a performer, was the way to go about tonight. The submissive part of him wanted to kneel on the floor, under the gaze and evaluation of Ethan’s dominant friends. Ethan saw him shifting his weight and scanning the floor with his eyes, looking for a way to sink to the ground. His Dom pulled Damia into him by his forearm, out of the way of scrutiny. He then tucked him tightly against his side and Daminao tried to mold himself to his Dom, to make himself smaller.

“I know he’s gorgeous, but you don’t have to make him squirm,” Ethan said and the tension lessened. Damiano wrapped his arms around his Dom’s waist and closed his eyes to the world. Being protected by Ethan was euphoric. He parted his lips as he took deep breaths against Ethan’s neck, trying to both smell and taste his pheromones.

“Yeah for fuck sake its his first time here, you don’t need to scare him off.” Everyone chuckled as another of Ethan’s friends commented.

“Yes, darling you can meet my eyes,” said the queen. “I’m Madame Lilith and you are Damiano.” She extended a hand and when Damiano shook it, he finally felt as though he was getting his bearings. “There’s no point sizing him up when you’re spoken for but-”

“Crying shame!” someone interjected and the whole group laughed. Damiano threw his head back and chuckled, knowing he was being laughed with,not at.The objectification didn’t sit well, but he was finally able to face everyone. The heckler was a small, unattractive man standing to the left of the other submissive. Not just small in stature, but with a small, bulbous nose, small eyes, and nonexistent lips. His scrunched features made his giant forehead look even larger and his hairline did him no favors. His auburn facial hair was still coming in, as if there was a geezer stuck in a 20-somethings body. Dami tried not to think about the fact that somewhere, somehow, that was someone’s kink

“But-” Madame Lilith continued “we are very happy to have you here. This is Arcadia” she gestured to her submissive.

“And now Ethan can finally talk about something else” said the man wearing a college student skin suit. Another round of laughter while Damiano and Ethan faced each other, mere inches away. Puppet giggled while his Dom blushed and handed him his drink in an attempt to redirect his attention. Ethan looked to his friends, his friends ogled Damiano, and Damiano watched Ethan.

Damia had another vodka tonic and traced the shell of Ethan’s ear, where the blush had reached, with his pointer finger. When his friends moved away, Dami did the same thing with his tongue, only somewhat inconspicuous. Leaning in as if to whisper, he traced the shell of his Dom’s ear, then the shapes of the cartilage, finally sticking his tongue inside Ethan’s ear. He pulled him close by the grip Damia had on his waist, disregarding the bitter taste of earwax that always comes with this maneuver. Puppet found that the taste paled in comparison to the idea that he was putting a part of his body in Ethan’s and taking a bit of Ethan back into himself. He went to move his tongue again and his Dom caught him by his shoulders.

“Let's go sit down,” he said pointedly. Dami knew he had no choice in the matter and dutifully followed his Dom over to the table where Madame Lilith, Arcadia, and his other friends had migrated while Puppet tried to fuck Ethan’s ear canal with his tongue.

They scooted into the booth and Ethan pulled his sub onto his lap, much to Puppet’s delight. Arcadia was seated next to their Domme and it was reassuring to feel a kinship between them. Another submissive whom Damiano didn’t recognize was seated at the feet of a man wearing black leather with handcuffs clipped to his belt. Would he actually restrain his submissive partner here? Ethan followed his wide-eyed gaze.

“He can’t use the cuffs here, but he can wear them as an accessory to remind orthreaten. It demonstrates the Dom’s continuous control outside their home.” Damiano nodded. “It's just a different dynamic, Puppet.”

“Like the man on the leash with the spike collar.” Dami remembered the club they’d attended with Victoria and Thomas. He also remembered the panic attack that visual gave him.

“There is a line between engaging in your dynamic in a kink space, and participating in a scene. If they were to scene that would be involving us in something we didn’t consent to.”

“But what about” Dami points to the wall separating the bar from what was very much a scene.

“We know about that before we enter, so its implied consent. When I asked you if you’d trust me to expose you to a kink space tonight, and you said yes, that was a form of consent, and you are able to revoke consent with a safeword.” Dami nodded. Ethan had always been intentional and meticulous when explaining his submissive’s rights. “For something to truly be consensual, both parties must have the right to revoke consent and have that respected, but you already know this.” Damiano nodded again, picking at his cuticles.

“So we could revoke consent in this situation if we see someone do a scene?” His Dom thought about the question for a moment, then responded.

“I suppose you always have the right to question whether a behavior is involving you in something you didn’t consent to. But you’re new to this and some dynamics will make you uncomfortable on their own.” Damia didn’t like the feeling of inexperience, because it also felt like lacking control.

“So who decides where the line is?”

“Everyone in a kink space must make a judgement call about their behavior.” Dami looked at the myriad of people sitting in their booth, with some concern as to trusting their judgment. Ethan lowered his voice. “And if they fuck that up, I will protect you from it.” His words caused a shiver to run up Damiano’s spine, and back down again.

“But is it inherently sexual?” That comment drew Puppet’s attention to the debate happening at the table.

“Of course it is, Luther!” A response from a latex-clad woman directed at the man wearing leather and handcuffs.

“What is inherently sexual?” inquired Ethan. This was shaping up to be a very interesting debate, thought Damiano. Sex was one of his favorite conversational topics.

“Licking, tongue.”

“Well of course that's sexual” replied Ethan, with his heavy Italian accent.

“Not when you have a service sub,” countered Luther.

“What then? Does she give you a non-sexual bath with her tongue?” teased the woman in latex. The table chuckled and Luther smiled, goodnaturedly. Puppet felt confident enough to interject.

“Perhaps polishing his shoes with her tongue.”

“Yes, I can imagine Luther traipsing around in his saliva coated shoes, preaching the desexualization of kink to a crowd half made up of men with foot fetishes. Why don’t you tell them how your loafers got so shiny so you can take them off and run, while the herd descends upon them.” she responded. The table roared with laughter.

“Sometimes Amy can have too many opinions,” said Madame Lilith to Damiano.

“I don’t know that my boy believes in such a thing,” replied Ethan. Puppet snorted, not expecting that retort from his Dom.

“I believe the real item up for debate is tickling,” said Arcadia, as if this was a pre-planned socratic seminar. “Is ticking inherently sexual?” They posed the question like a test proctor giving the essay prompt, their face nearly unmoving. Damiano couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, of course it is!”

“Even with children?” asked Arcadia, dryly. Dami’s affection for the person plummeted, as did his heart to his stomach.

“What is it with you and mentioning children, Arcadia? Obviously we are talking about consenting adults here, c’mon.” Puppet was liking Amy more and more.

“I think I will still have to agree with my sub here,” said Madame Lilith. “Luther?” she prompted.

“I’m also leaning towards no,” Luther responded. Damia, feeling socially confident, made a noise of dissent, to which Amy chucked amiably.

“You’re so Italian,” she said. Damia schooled his face into one of alluring indignation.

“Well I’ve never encountered tickling devoid of any sexual energy,” he replied. Puppet felt Ethan’s chest rise against his back, taking a breath to speak.

“My love, that is because you have the libido of a bonobo in heat. If you’re always horny everything is related to sex.” Puppet’s mouth fell open in partially genuine offence, while the table chortled at his Dom’s comparison.

To quiet the laughter, Madame Lilith commented, “and we should all be so lucky.”

“I envy Ethan’s good fortune. He’s not a switch with the sex drive of two people and zero partners.” said Amy. Again she elicited a series of cackles from the group. Ethan kissed Damiano’s temple, as a reminder that for them to laugh at his sex drive, was to laugh at themselves. Self-consciousness has no place in a kink dungeon. Dami reminds himself that is why this event exists, to be a safe space. So for once, these people don’t have to feel self-conscious.

His Dom ran a hand along his thigh, back and forth, the rough skin on his callouses catching on the thin fabric of his submissive’s pants. The Dom’s other arm remained tight around Dami’s waist, his hand, warm and heavy, resting on Damiano’s stomach. It was a distinct reminder of where else that hand had been, where it would go. The skin on Puppet’s tummy was sensitive to its presence. His body was so receptive to the heat that the muscles of Damiano’s abdomen quivered and clenched. As if Ethan was making love to him with Damia’s legs over his shoulders.

No matter how lean, the position gave you stomach rolls as you were being fucked. The body is totally on display to the person topping you, forcing you to be observed while you also try to orgasm. It was incredibly vulnerable, but Damiano got off on making himself completely vulnerable to Ethan. The submission was radical for him, but he also felt completely safe. It's like jumping when you know there's a net below: you still get the rush.

Ethan kissed Dami’s temple twice more, winning him another secret smile. Dami’s teeth were so straight they angled slightly in, perfectly aligned, bright white. When he bit his lip Ethan could only think how feral Damiano’s perfect little teeth were. He looked so feline and submissive with his pretty smile

“I love that you’re my pretty, little needy creature.” Who looks awful breedable, curled on my lap, Ethan thought, speaking directly to Dami. His submissive made a noise of contentment, sitting up then catching an unfamiliar look in his Dom’s eye, like he wanted to eat him alive. “All curled up and purring for me.” Ethan watched his submissive realize that this was a thing. “My sweet, excitable sexual being. Until I decide you’re going to be otherwise.” It was an empty threat, but Ethan wanted to test the waters. His submissive wasvery responsive, folding in on himself at the display of dominance, trying to take up less of the space.

“I didn’t say you could do that,” said Ethan calmly, putting a hand on Damiano’s upper back, prompting him to sit upright again. It was easy to see from anyone surrounding that Damiano was affected by his Dom, that he could barely control it. It was a display of Ethan’s power, making his sub, who sat taller than anyone else, force himself to control his impulses. Damiano had ever felt so exposed, and cursed his height. The fact that he wasn’t allowed to move his body without his Dom’s permission, that everyone else so the control Ethan welded over a willful brat, was quickening his breathing. I’m your trophy.

Another friend whom Dami hadn’t met was carrying the drinks Ethan had ordered at the bar to their table. She had a square jaw and tight lips. Damia couldn’t glean any specific energy from her, one way or the other.

“Get on the floor” Ethan mercifully permissed. Damiano was frantically looking for a way to clamber onto the floor under the table. He realized the woman carrying the drinks was waiting to sit down so Damiano could get down on the floor easily. Thats when he started to panic a bit because he was publicly failing. Ethan parted his legs so his sub could slide onto the floor between them. Damiano tried to move quickly, and was almost resting at his domient’s feet when he felt a hand on the back of his head, appling light downward pressure. He looked forward and found himself eye level with Ethan’s groin.

The sub wasn’t stupid, he new what this meant. But now? In front of people? Part of the sacred trust Damiano shared with his Dom was to believe that Ethan would take care of him, on both their behalfs. The sub had to act accordingly, even when he didn’t have all the information, he had to trust his Dom’s judgment and follow. So, then, Damiano realized that, yes, in front of people, because it was the ultimate display of dominance and wasn’t that what tonight was really about? He was willing to do anything to prove he was Ethan’s boy and if he was really honest with himself, to eventually be collared.

Damiano slowly reached his hands to unfasten his dominant’s pants under the table, but paused before making contact. This was completely contradicting what his Dom had just said about not involving people in something they couldn’t consent to. How was his Dom going to prevent others from seeing? Puppet knew he was missing a big piece of the puzzle,so hands midair, he looked up to Ethan for reassurance. The face he saw was very much not the face of someone demanding a public blowjob. Ethan looked shocked and a bit horrified. He wrapped one hand around his submissive's wrists, gently pushing them away.

“Don’t head your head on the way down, Puppet,” said Ethan emphatically, gesturing to the space above Damia’s head. The sub turned his face to look and saw his dominant’s hand wedged between the top of his skull, and the table’s hard edge. Ethan’s hand was the only thing that had stopped Damiano from oh so gracefully concussing himself on the way down. He blanched at what he had almost done, in front of everyone, while he was trying to prove himself. Dami slumped onto the floor and despite Ethan’s efforts at desecration, someone had seen, and now the table was laughing at him.

“Wow, looks like you’ve already got this one well trained!” mocked the balding man.

“That or not broken in at all,” chortled the new member of the table. Damiano slipped from his body, not in subspace, but into dissociation. He had never been made to feel safe with Ethan, only to have that safety taken away. He didn’t know how to process this at all. Damiano didn’t hear his Dom’s curt words to those snickering. He didn’t hear Amy defending him. Dami looked across to the other kneeling sub. The only thing louder than the malicious laughter was the fact that she was wearing a collar. He burned with humiliation.

I want to leave. I want to leave now.

Instead of kneeling, facing his Dom’s feet, Puppet turned to rest his forehead on the inside of Ethan’s knee. He worried about how they could mock if he faced his Dom. He worried the same when Ethan reached down to stroke his head, lovingly. There was no comfort in that.

Puppet felt trapped under the table, and unsure what to do. Of course the answer was apparent: he needed to use his safeword. As soon as he had the thought, it felt like an over reaction. However, the prospect of all the walls he’d need to build in his mind to feel safe here was daunting. He liked the feeling of total intimacy and transparency with Ethan, there was no one gentler. However, in public it reminded him of why he spent all those years building a repertoire of facial expressions in the mirror.

I need to get out. I need to get out. I need to get out, out, out!

He’d carefully crafted a personna to avoid this feeling of naked helplessness, to say fuck what people think. But here, at the feet of his lover, Dami had tears on his face because what people thought of him in this moment felt fundamental to who he was. He wanted to be adequate in this space, this dynamic.

The tap of something foreign on his shoulder startled the submissive out of himself loathing. Damiano cringed so hard in surprise that he knocked the drink out of Ethan's hand. The glass broke on the floor under the table, the sound deafening. Ice cubes went everywhere as did the glass shards. Coke got on Ethan’s brand new suede shoes. He fucking loved those shoes, he’d done a happy dance in them before they’d left. It was like getting punched in the gut and Damiano was crying again, he could feel his liner stinging as it ran into his eyes. So Damia came to a compromise with his ego. He looked to his Dom and spoke, barely audible.

“Yellow.”

Context: Dominant Victoria and submissive Thomas have been in a long term dynamic. Ethan and Daminano are in a new dynamic. He is jealous of Thomas’s collar, even though it is too early in his and Ethan’s dynamic to consider collaring. Ethan takes his submissive Damiano to a venue, to help familiarize him with the scene.

Notes: This is not even in the realm of proofread sorry. I also know very little about the kink community so if I’ve misrepresented something feel free to call me out and I’ll change it. I have part 3 already written!

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#ethan torchio #damiano david #damiano david fanfiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin #ethan maneskin #ethan torchio x reader #damiano david x reader #damiano david smut #maneskin smut #maneskin x reader #fan fic smut #fan fiction #i write fanfiction #here's hoping

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