#måneskin x reader

[baddestbittyontheblock]

måneskin fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

måneskin x reader: blurbs+headcannons+fics

୨୧ 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

୨୧ 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

୨୧ a headcanon with må with you being a successful model

-they're wearing earbuds, blasting music into their ears when they remember the they left their phone charger in the bathroom. they don't know you're showering and can't hear you over the music...

୨୧ headcanons with må x fashiondesigner!reader

୨୧ a valentine’s surprise | SMUT, orgy, oral sex, anal play, double penetration, food play, spit play, alcohol  

-You’ve been feeling a little left out in your relationship so your four partners show their love to you with a surprise for Valentine’s Day. 

୨୧ Gettin’ Frisky With The Måneskin Members  | explicit content, gender neutral reader, switch!damiano, hard domme!victoria, vanilla!thomas, sub!ethan, freaky stuff, toys and s/m, oral (both ways), degradation, spit, pain play, brat taming, bondage, sinning cuz rock’n’roll never dies

୨୧ our favourite band with an S/O with bad menstrual periods

| talk abt periods, so dyphoria warning (we'll get back on the totally GN shit tmrw, just filling requests rn), lil bit of swearing and NSFW on Ethan

୨୧ how the members of Måneskin confess their feelings for you måneskin x gn!reader

victoria de angelis

·。🍓 my sweet valentine vic de angelis x fem! reader | Fluff

-Victoria's first Valentine's day celebrating with you is a bit chaotic but turns out better than expected.

·。🍓 date night vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, fingering, oral (female receiving) and bdsm dynamics

-you and vic go on a date and it ends with fun at the hotel

·。🍓 hush, hush, cucciola. vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you’re were asked to come over and help to calm Vic down after another disagreement during creating new song, and you find just the way to make her happy and peaceful again

·。🍓 pillow talk vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-your night trip to the kitchen gets interrupted by a strange noise, the results of your investigation are more pleasant then you could expect.

·。🍓 long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

·。🍓 cold breeze, hot cheeks vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff 

-a rather cold October makes your blood boil as you and Vic attend Ethan's birthday party

·。🍓 i think I wanna hold you, but I'm not sure i'm allowed

vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst with tiny hint of smut

·。🍓 I'll show the  lovin' that you'll never get from a man. vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff, smut

-your friends finally meet your boyfriend, and even though nothing goes according to the plan, your night ends up being better than you could hope for, thanks to Vic

·。🍓 sweat and good grips vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 the one with victoria’s boobs. victoria x gn!reader | fluff

-Victoria needs help taping her boobs for an upcoming performance. You get more than you bargained for.

·。🍓 the one where victoria wants to watch victoria x fem!reader x ethan | smut

·。🍓 “OPEN YOUR MOUTH.” victoria x gn!reader | soft smut

-along the lines of The one where victoria is patient.

·。🍓 “YEAH, WELL, IF YOU WEREN’T SO DRUNK MAYBE I WOULD.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “I KNOW YOU CAN BE LOUDER THAN THAT.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “GIVE ME ATTENTION.” vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams vic de angelis xfem!reader | fluff, smut

-You're an up-and-coming actress, and Vic's best friend since high school. You have been friends and in love with each other for as long as you can remember. So when you have the chance to be together, it's magical.

·。🍓 baby said vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you've been on a few dates with Victoria and you think things are going really well. You just wish you had known where the night was going beforehand- maybe you would have picked a table with longer tablecloths.

·。🍓 latenight devil vic de angelis x fem! reader

-victoria covers for you after you sneak backstage ahead of a Måneskin gig & invites you into her dressing room for an unusual encounter

·。🍓 forgive me father vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, basically porn

·。🍓 the ocean's daughter swearing, alcohol consumption, drowning as a metaphor, smut

-while on holiday in italy, an encounter derails your life enough to make you pack up on a whim and move to the very city in which you first saw her — the ocean's daughter.

·。🍓 vic blurb

-doing domestic stuff with Victoria

·。🍓 a threesome with victoria and damiano! damiano x fem!reader x vic | smut

-reader is victoria’s partner and starts to develop a certain ‘obsession’ for dami, until vic decides to fix it.

·。🍓 vic de angelis fic victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-y/n is the other female member of the band, who has had feelings for vic for a while now, but was too nervous to say anything. one night after a concert in new york changes that after the bassist overhears a conversation between damiano and y/n.

·。🍓 thorns victoria de angelis x fem!reader | Mentions of smoking. Mentions of panic. Swearing.

-victoria meets her ex-girlfriend (Ava). The unplanned “date” upsets her and she decides to drink and smoke to cope. When she wakes up in the morning her best friend Y/N (who she also happens to have a crush on) is there to try and reason with her. 

·。🍓 lucid victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-It started with a spilled drink and ended with a clumsy kiss on the dance floor. A night out with friends takes an unexpected turn when you bump into the one person that's been on your mind for the better part of a year- the same stranger who stole both your chapstick and your heart.

·。🍓 nightmares victoria de angelis x fem!reader | A description of a nightmare. Other than that all is fluff and comfort.

-When Y/N has a terrifying nightmare and wakes up screaming, Victoria is there to comfort her.

·。🍓 kisses and cake vic de angelis x reader | very fluffy, a little spicy

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-being in a punk band and having vic feature in a show (you know like thomas recently did with starcrawler) and her doing her scissoring thing on top of me and then when she extends and after extending a hand to help me up and pulling me into a very gay gay gay kiss smearing her lipstick on my lipstick and leaving a big lipstick stain on my cheek as well

·。🍓 birthday wish victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-little birthday blurb

·。🍓 church crush vic de angelis x reader | kinky as kink abba; innocent/corruption kink, and idk, sacrilege?

-good girl!reader having a massive obsession on a not-so-good girl from her church.

·。🍓 proficiency test victoria de angelis x gn!reader | a bit of swearing + one (1) explicit and one (1) implicit mention of sex + i'm very much projecting (who doesn't) + shitty german

-vic decides to help you study. chaos ensues.

·。🍓 coming home victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-vic has had a long day but coming home to you lifts the uneasiness from her shoulders and she vocalizes just how lucky she feels that you are in her life.

·。🍓 because of you idiot! victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angst(I guess), romantic fluff

-Victoria suddenly comes distance, and you try to find out why.

·。🍓 fluffy blurb vic de angelis x reader

-(it's something about getting matching tattoos with vic)

·。🍓 fuffly/smut with victoria victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-fluffy morning/half smut with victoria. nipples playing.

·。🍓 your camera roll while dating vic vic de angelis x reader | fluff, smut

·。🍓 knowing your worth vic x fem/gn! reader | hurt, comfort

-Vic is there for you after a conflict with your parents.

·。🍓 the first happiest birthday vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 crawling back to you vic de angelis x reader

-Vic once again finds her way back to you.

·。🍓 one of a kind vic de angelis x reader | fluff, mentions of sex

-Vic finds out just how rich the feeling of love can be.

·。🍓 “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend that it’s you!” vic de angelis x reader | fluff, angst

·。🍓 pt 2 hospital vic fic. vic de angelis x reader

·。🍓 “everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 the one where victoria is patient. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-you've been with Victoria for half a year. Maybe it's about time you pushed your fears away.

·。🍓 “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe I would.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Give me attention.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 “We’re in public, you know.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 "Take off your clothes, but leave the heels on." vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto: Part 1. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics, mention of someone called ‘A’ - Damiano’s girlfriend

-unbeknownst to you both, paparazzi photograph you and Victoria while on your way back from a date night. When you find out in the morning, the two of you have very different ideas of how to handle the situation.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto - Part 2. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics.

·。🍓 k is for kisses vic de angelis x reader

-You and your girlfriend, Victoria, both like to tease each other. Kisses ensue.

·。🍓 peculiar and beautiful victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angsty but also fluffy

-reader finds themself in a emotional rut. A few comments online, the constant youtube recommendations on how to be “perfect” have been making them feel some type of way, hiding away from the one person that can help them; Victoria

·。🍓 amalfi nights victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut, pretty vanilla, softdom!vic, servicetop!vic, praise, kind of fluffy smut

-reader and victoria are for vacation in Amalfi. After a candle-lit dinner at the restaurant, after a long day of swimming and sunbathing, victoria just wants to show you her love.

·。🍓 afterglow victoria de angelis x gn!reader | mentions of sex

-reader meets victoria while traveling with friends. The two create a lovely summer fling and reader can not help but bask in the afterglow of victorias influence hoping to encounter her again.

·。🍓 homesick vic de angelis x reader | tw sickness, vomitting

-vic and the reader being on a long vacation together. One night the reader wakes up homesick and ends up being sick in the toilet, trying to be as quiet as they can not to worry vic too much. To no use, of course, as vic wakes up alarmed by the sounds of someone being ill in the bathroom and then goes to comfort the sick, guilty, crying reader?

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

damiano david

✧*: i want to dance on your body damiano david x fem!reader | smut 

-you and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.

✧*: i'm gonna fly straight to you damiano david x fem!reader | fluff

-you and Damiano are cuddled up in bed, brainstorming epic future adventures together.

✧*: i wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa. damiano david x fem!reader | smut

-damiano takes you to see his new yacht

✧*: long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

✧*: overthinking damiano david x fem!reader | swearing, alcohol, smoking, smut related things in general

-Your relationship with Damiano is going through a crisis and some jealousy. All becomes clear after a filed party and a steamy night. There is a bit sad, angsty beginning, smut in the middle and a bit of fluff in the end. So, we have the whole package.

✧*: welcome home damiano david x fem!reader | surprisingly fluffy but also smut

-after a long week all you need is a loving touch of your currently absent boyfriend. Luckily in the morning there is a very handsome surprise waiting for you, and this allows you to start your day in best way you could possibly imagine

✧*: 300,000 hearts damiano david x fem!girlfriend!reader

-where damiano sings a song about you he wrote in highschool, to a full arena

ethan torchio

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ blush ethan torchio x reader | pure fluff

-a blurb of Ethan meeting his new makeup artist who's really kind and bubbly and he instantly gets a crush on them?

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ a night in paris ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut+swearing

-you went on a tour with the band and Ethan enjoyed Paris the most. Having your boyfriend all happy and excited turned out to be better then you expected.

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ "The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind." ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut

-If acting unwise get's you places, maybe you're just pushing it to be on your knees.

thomas raggi

❤︎ ❥ "We passed 'just friends' about 20 fucks ago." thomas raggi x reader | angst, fluff, smut

❤︎ ❥ sanremo. thomas raggi x gn!reader | swearing, slightly sugggestive

-ever the supportive boyfriend, thomas indulges you in a sanremo 2023 watch party.

#maneskin x reader #maneskin #måneskin #måneskin x reader #måneskin imagine #maneskin imagine #vic de angelis x reader #vic de angelis #damiano david #damiano david x reader #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #smut #maneskin smut #fic recs

[marlena-immortale]

How long into relationship with every må member do you think it would take to sleep together? Like a few weeks or on the first date ?

Vic: The least amount of time, she's a woman who knows exactly what she wants and she goes for it. If she wants you, she'd have you in her bed the same night she first lays eyes on you.

Ethan: For him, it would probably be fairly quick but he still takes his time making sure. He likes to build a bit of a connection first so he can really figure out what you like in bed beforehand.

Thomas: He likes to be respectful and play by the rules, so a few dates before sex is necessary. Plus that way he can really get to know you and see where the relationship is going before taking that next step. But it could still be casual, he's definitely down for a friends with benefits type of deal.

Damiano: He's someone who looks slutty on the outside, but is a total softie on the inside. He likes to wait the longest, maybe going so far as to wait till you're exclusive and serious about starting a relationship together. But the wait will absolutely be worth it. He likes to make it special once he finally does sleep with you.

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

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 1: Checking In

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Author's Note (CW: addiction)

Word count: 3.5k

Damiano David x Y/n

His family and his friends, mutual and otherwise, made tepid comments about Damiano’s wellbeing. They knew they didn’t have the right to ask anything of you, not anymore.

“Just checking in! I know the breakup was tough.” Tough. The word choice made you outright laugh. It was something you’d say to a child who just lost a football game. I know that was tough, buddy. 

“Hey, checking in, hope you’re doing well.” 

“I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing, y/n.”

“I know I checked in on you earlier, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” I was forced to choose between my sanity and my relationship, but God granted me neither.

“I’m doing fine, all things considered.” “Checking in” was their excuse to call, it was a transition to statements like, “We all miss you alot. Hope we’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” “Well, I’m glad you’re doing well, since I know Damia has been struggling.” “Have you heard from Dami? I was gonna call and ask how he’s doing as well. I heard he’s not coping well.” “You were such a force for good in his life. I think he really needs that.” “I wish I knew how to get Damiano closer to being fine, too.” That last one earned a real life eye roll. At least his friends had the etiquette to feel guilty for dragging you back into it. 

You were certain that your heart couldn’t bear to love someone hellbent on self-destructing. You were certain that Damiano wasn’t going to get sober of his own volition. He’d lose his temper when you’d bring up those two years of not drinking. Articles, books, podcasts, speeches, YouTube videos, TV, movies, therapy, support groups, doctors, even a sobriety coach. You spent more time on resources for his addiction disorder than you did self-care, or hobbies, or some days, even work. Your life revolved around stopping this behavior before he became a tragic stereotype and left a black hole in your life. Damiano’s life revolved around Maneskin’s unrelenting schedule. 

He’d do anything to reclaim his autonomy, but the options were slim. The documents from Sony US hadn’t been translated with nuance and you wondered if that might void some of it. Hoped, really. He’d signed his life away to realize his dream. Now all he could do is show his handlers that they’d bought a faulty machine. In fact, he was self-destructive enough that he’d do it just to spite them. 

The first time Damiano was hospitalized with alcohol poisoning, you found about a dozen ways to reassure yourself that everything wasn’t falling apart. He’d been sober for two years so his tolerance was low. Damiano was probably drinking the same amount. Then you found out it’d been hard alcohol, no mixers. Now the excuses were he didn’t remember when to stop. He had to relearn how to self regulate when drinking. 

Ethan had been the one to call the first time, when they’d managed to contain it. The second it was his head of security, Ronnie. In a totally normal and healthy way, you combed through Twitter for an hour. The knot in your stomach said the news would break and it did. Splashed across tabloids was a haggard looking picture of Dami that you tried to date based on his outfit. Your therapist called your behavior “obsessive,” but followed it up with a surprising amount of empathy.

“Tough love can be equally painful on both sides.” You’d never told her you still loved him. It was obvious. For the first time, carrying around all Damiano’s secrets felt like a burden. You’d never betray his confidence, despite how poisonous he’d been towards the end. SME had you sign a non-disclosure agreement in early 2021. You’d insisted it wasn’t necessary, that there wasn’t enough money in the world to pay you to talk to the press. Sony had simply said, “for now,” prompting Dami’s stereotypically Italian temper to flare.

Ronnie was more concerned with you telling Damiano that he’d relayed this information, clearly against your ex-boyfriend’s wishes. 

“Be honest with me, are you breaching contract by calling me?” There’s a very long sign on the other end of the line.

“Technically, no. He hasn’t taken you off his emergency contacts. I’m more concerned about the disruption it would cause.”

“Disruption?”

“Explosion. Whatever he’s ingesting has made him volatile, constantly on edge. The edge of rage, that is. We’ve stopped hoping for good days and started hoping for some good hours every few days, ideally around showtime or interviews.” 

“Wow, okay. I know he has a temper –”

“He’s never not angry. It's always simmering under the surface.” Through the silence, you can hear the sounds of the hospital. Layers of anxious voices and the constant beeping of some machine.

“You didn’t do this.”

“I know,” you respond automatically.

“Y/n, you didn’t do this. He did this to himself.” Dami had violated boundary after boundary as you set them. He became less recognisable, until he wasn’t the person you fell in love with. Full of creativity, light, good humor, who loved art and comradery more than he did any substance.

“I mean, I don’t think the breakup is why he’s so angry. The depression is probably from the alcohol. That’s actually why I’m calling.” Ronnie has the same tone of voice as those who are “checking in.” “The decision has been made, that he’s going to rehab.”

“Good.” With your back braced against the wall, you slide down onto the floor with relief.

“That decision has been made without Damiano’s consent.”

“Can’t you consult him?”

“No,” Ronnie says firmly. “Addicts aren’t rational.” It was the first time you’d heard someone call Dami an addict. Before now, that word had only existed in your own head.

“I can’t believe it got to this point so quickly.” Your cat, Princess, senses your anxiety and rubs against you. Dami had picked her out as a tiny kitten. When would she start wondering where her dad was? Maybe not yet, he was gone for long stretches of time on tour. Princess doesn’t know he isn’t coming home, and that thought both makes you jealous and sob hysterically. 

“Y/n? Y/n? You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you sniff, eyes burning.

“SME is using the full weight of its influence to force Dami into rehab. He might call you and say anything he can think of to get out of it. Don’t believe him. You can’t trust him right now.” The thought of Dami calling and begging you to fly him home, only to go on a bender makes you sick.

“Should I block his number and Whatsapp?”

“That's up to you.”

“You called to tell me it's up to me?”

“I called you to warn you. So you could steal yourself. So you’d know about it before the tabloids.”

“I suppose now that Dami’s hospitalization is public, someone is also gonna leak that he’s going to rehab. Cover their own asses?” Ronnie falls silent. “You know, going to rehab in privacy would be a fuck load more effective. Let them wonder.”

“I wish they would.” Here was the impasse you always reached. Damiano treated as a doll to be flung around for profit, as if he didn’t have a soul. 

“Fine. Thanks for calling me.” Each time, you tried to tell them not to update you in the future, and each time your tongue refused to form the words.

“Y/n, I have a feeling that something is really not right with him. That it could get much worse before it gets better.” Now, he’s managed to tick you off.

“Ronnie, I tried everything in my goddamn power to keep him from crashing and burning. More than anyone else! I devoted hours to –”

“Y/n, I know.”

“I couldn’t stop him from self-destructing. I tried!” The sound of tears creeps into your voice. “I couldn’t stand to watch it anymore. I don’t know if he was refusing to get better or was unable to, but either way I…tried.”

“No one questions that. I mean that Damiano might need for things to get worse for them to eventually get better. He’s stubborn and short-sighted. I want you to be ready.”

“How much worse?” you whisper.

“He might need to bruise his ass on rock bottom to stop idealizing self-destruction.”

“‘Live fast, die young’ sounds a lot like I’d rather stick it to the man than grow old with you. My ego is bigger than my love for you”

“I don’t know that that’s true, y/n. For some people it's a matter of time before they become addicts when they’re put into this pressure cooker. I’ve seen it before.

“And?”

“Only Damiano can pull himself out of it.”

“So I just wasted my time,” you respond bitterly.

“Showing Damiano how deeply and unequivocally you loved him might save him still.”

“I thought he had to save himself.”

“You’re telling me that after five years he’s not a part of you and vice versa?”

“No.” No, I’m not telling you that, because I know the opposite to be true so viscerally that it has almost destroyed me. The part of Damiano that lay in your heart should be withering in his absence, but it remained very much alive. How do you move on from someone you hadn’t broken up with? The version of Dami that caused you to end it wasn’t truly representative of his character. He was still in there, progressively buried under the rubble of this revolt. The man you loved was unreachable which also made it impossible to move on. Every day he held you in his hellish limbo. 

Damiano did his 30 days. Then 30 hours after discharge, he overdosed in Milan. You started buying a train ticket as soon as you saw Ronnie’s contact on the screen. 

“Is he alive?” 

“Yes, but he’s on a ventilator.”

“God damn it Dami,” you whimper, doubled over and on the verge of screaming into your hand. “What's happening?”

“That's literally all I know. Someone found him in the bathroom of a bougie nightclub and gave him Narcan, thank god. His lips were purple, so…” For a moment Ronnie’s voice is drowned out by a sob. “It’s gonna be messy. The ambulance was photographed.”

“Christ.” This would make international celebrity news. Every asshole who’d typecast Dam after Eurovision would be competing for the most public validation. 

“We don’t think it was intentional.”

“But how bad was it? Like would he think he was gonna die in the moment? Was he alone? How long was he conscious? What – what about organ failure. What if –”

“Y/n, I don’t know,” Ronnie says slowly. “I will call when I have more information.” You’d been on the train for 20 minutes before your phone rang. He was going to be okay. You balled up your coat and screamed, using it as a gag.

“Turns out, to compensate for the hangovers, he’s been doing cocaine.” Never has irony been more painful. “He wasn’t testing his drugs. The coke was laced with fentanyl. Another line might have killed him.” Only then does the possibility that Damiano could end his own life become apparent. It swallows up every other aspect of your reality, until you’re standing in the doorway of his hospital room. 

Thomas’ girlfriend Mia sees you first and runs in for a hug. Ethan and Vic were sleeping in their hotel rooms. Ronnie’s jacket is crumpled in a chair, forgotten after drifting off to sleep probably.

“Hey! Ronnie said you might come, but…” But I’m not Damia’s girlfriend. Perhaps he’d found someone new, and you were encroaching on their territory.

“Shit, I just thought that, um…is he dating –”

“No.” The amount of relief that provided was just evidence of how damaged you were. “He’s been in a coma for almost three hours, lots of good brain activity. He should wake up soon.”

“Coma?” you squeaked. In Tom’s eyes you saw how taxing this new Damiano had been. You weren’t the only one that loved him unconditionally. 

“Yeah.” Thomas rubs his face and sighs. “Fuck. We have so much shit tomorrow.” SME had scheduled a press tour as soon as Damiano was discharged, to make up for lost time. Everything was pushed back because the band couldn’t release something they hadn’t done publicity for.

“I’ll sit with him for a while,” you reassure. Mia helps Tom up out of the chair. After exchanging appropriate greetings, they exit the room, whose door remains open. Now you had to look at him. The ventilator emits rhythmic rushes of air, so your eyes find the source of the sound first. Then you follow the tubing until it enters Damiano. He’s gray, sickly looking like he had COVID again. Surely they already tested for that. 

The concern had been damaging his voice, like the tobacco and weed hadn’t already put his vocal chords on the edge of irreversible harm. How damaging is a plastic tube shoved down your throat? Alcohol caused esophageal cancer and coke eviscerated your sinuses. What would those do to his singing voice? 

You’d refrained from watching his gigs, but now you have the compulsion to find a video of this morning’s interview. It was just the talking portion, no performance. That was Sony’s idea of easing back into the public’s eye. In the thumbnail, he doesn’t look like an addict. Damiano’s skin had aged backwards while in rehab. He was beautiful, pale from so much time in doors, but healthy. The fact that he’d managed so much damage in a matter of hours made you nauseous. 

You sat in the bathroom while the feeling passed. The pale green tiles were cold. Should you leave? You couldn’t even work up the bravery to touch him. But if you left, Dami could wake up alone with a tube down his throat, confused that he wasn’t dead. Meanwhile, the fluorescent lights illuminate details in the reflection of the mirror that you’d prefer not to be made aware of. After pondering some adult acne, you decide that you aren’t the type of person to abandon someone, just because they abandoned you.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you startle the nurse at Damiano’s bedside.

“Geez, I didn’t know you were in there!” She brings a hand to her ample bosom while taking a deep breath.

“Shit, sorry. I was just…having an existential crisis.”

“Ah, so you must be the girlfriend, then.”

“Yep,” you answer automatically. After five years, that response was ingrained into your frontal lobe. This would have been the first time you answered no.

“I’m Maria and I’m gonna be your nurse this morning.”

“Morning?”

“It is…” she checks her smart watch, “5:04. So early morning.” Her chipper tone gives you cognitive dissonance. “I’m just gonna take some blood, just to monitor how his organs are functioning. Unfortunately a tiny amount of fentanyl can wreak havoc.” 

“His organs are failing?”

“No,” she answers firmly, going so far as to round the bed and pat you on the shoulder before putting on latex gloves. “He’s young and it's his first OD. He could bounce back quickly, but a coma is the body's last ditch effort at keeping itself alive. He’s lucky.” She gives you a knowing look. “I can recommend some great treatment programs, now that he officially has his Substance Use Disorder diagnosis.”

“Um.”

“Maybe we’ll tackle that around breakfast time. Now why don’t you hold onto his hand.” She ties a purple tourniquet around his bicep on his left arm while you gingerly take a seat. “Mhm, go ahead,” she permits, completely oblivious to the war raging inside you.

“Does – does it help?” Your left hand quivers, half an inch above his, close enough to feel the heat.  For some reason, you expect Dami’s skin to be cold too, like a corpse. 

“It can be difficult to find a good vein after an overdose.”

“Are his veins damaged?”

“We didn’t find any evidence that he was using intravenously. Unfortunately hypoxia, A.K.A. oxygen deprivation, is a result of –”

“Will he have brain damage?”

“You’ll have to ask the doctor that question.” 

“Does Narcan hurt?”

“No, but he’ll probably have a headache.”

“Does overdosing on fentanyl hurt?”

“It’s heavily sedating.”

“Would he know that he was overdosing?”

“Depends on how experienced of a drug user he is.”

“I’m pretty positive that this is his first overdose.”

“Then probably not.”

“Would he be scared then?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“Would he be afraid of dying?”

“Honey, hold his hand.” Maria pats you on the shoulder as you finally set your palm against Damiano’s. His skin is warm, as always, and he feels sturdy. The sensation of his hand in yours brings back so many memories that you’re fighting not to drown in them. It's strange, him not responding as you squeeze down. Dam loved to talk about marriage, how the ceremony would go, the reception. You’d debated matching rings. Now you watched the blue line of his heart rate on the beeping monitor.

“Okay, all done,” Maria announced, smoothing adhesive labels over vials of blood. “The doctor will be in shortly and – oh.” She freezes, then presses the call button.

“Is he okay?” Your heart falls from your chest to stomach, out your ass, and lands on the linoleum floor. 

“Yep, looks like he’s coming out of it, actually. Stand up,” Maria requests, pulling on your arm. “Make sure you’re in his line of sight. Waking up on life support can be quite disorienting.” Damiano’s face looks the same, but then his pupils move under his eyelids. You’re the first thing he’ll see and that pressure is impossible to bear. 

“I can’t! I’m so sorry.” You rub your eyes then stand up, grabbing your purse and overnight bag. Maria doesn’t protest. She lets you leave in a flurry of movement and tears, throwing the door open so forcefully that it hits the wall. Once outside of the hospital room, you immediately feel compelled to go back. Dami had never done anything to warrant being left alone at such a pivotal, terrifying moment. You knew with absolute certainty that if the roles were reversed, he’d have never left your side.

“Okay.” You take a deep breath upon re-entering the hospital room, holding Dami’s right hand in both of your own. “Okay, I’m here. What now?” 

“We wait,” Maria answers, as a doctor enters the room. There's the medication given, vitals taken, brain activity analyzed. The waves on the monitor become closer together, then more drastic. Medical personnel may be accustomed to it, but the rapid beeping elevates your anxiety.

“We’re bringing him up out of it gradually, so he doesn’t hurt himself,” narrates a young doctor. “Mr. David will have regained a level of consciousness by now. Probably thinks he’s dreaming.” How would a person not startle while waking up with a tube in their throat? It’d been almost three months since you’d last seen him, but if you thought about it that way, you’d just run. Instead, you imagine that you’re waking Damiano up from a bad dream, even though it was typically the other way around.

“Will he recognize your voice?”

“Of course.” The response comes out defensive when you didn’t intend it to be.

“Talk to him.”

“I…okay.” You lean down, getting closer to his ear. “Dami, it’s y/n. It’s y/n, I’m really here. It's me, baby.” That last word gets stuck in your throat. It’d be so long. How many messages had you missed? He must have tried to contact you.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t answered. I don’t know the right things to say. I don’t know if saying something is the right thing.” Maria and the other nurse in the room are looking at you with a bit of judgment, but the doctor is focused on the monitors.

“Great. That’s great.” You raise a shaky hand to Damiano’s cheek and brush your thumb back and forth.

“As soon as I heard, I got on a train. I still think about you everyday, even more than when we were together. Hopefully you won’t remember any of this, me babbling on. I’d call it pathetic, but you wouldn’t like that.”

“Page whatever respiratory therapist is on call this morning, please. Thank you.” For another couple minutes you wait for improvement, signs that your boyfriend still existed in this body. The doctor is enthralled in what appears to be unchanging information to you, and administers another dose of something. 

“I always thought it was kind of sudden,” you confess. “Damia, if you can hear me, come towards the surface.”

“He can definitely hear you. I’m Dr. Williams, by the way, or just Paul.” The young physician never breaks focus. “Common misconception. If waking up from sleep isn’t instant, why would waking up from a coma be,” he chuckles. Damiano’s hand twitches at the wrist, like a muscle spasm.

“He just moved!”

“Mm-hm.”

“Is everything okay?” Ethan exclaims, having walked in while all your focus was elsewhere. Someone herds him into the hall and closes the door. Then Dami squeezes down on your hand, properly, like he intends to. His eyes flutter and you feel his presence enter the room.

Notes: Chapter 2 posted on Sunday. Let me know if you find this fic interesting/compelling so far. I'll be posting two short chapters a week, word count ranging from 2.9 - 7.3k. Hello to the new members of my taglist!

-XOXO Eden

Read the rest on my Masterlist

Get notified via my Taglist

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#maneskin #måneskin #damiano david #må #damiano #damiano maneskin #maneskin damiano #damiano david x reader #damiano david imagine #damiano david fanfiction #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin x reader #damiano david x you #maneskin x you #måneskin x reader #måneskin imagine #there will be smut eventually fear not

[tiredeyesight]

potential partners

description : in an interview ethan got asked which artist or band he wants to collaborate with, he says y/n leaving thousands to start shipping the two of you causing your first interactions out of many

word count : 374

a/n : this was so bad omg, i might rewrite it in the future but i need to get a fic out i’m so sorry. anyways even though thsi is really bad hope you enjoy !!💓

ethan was preparing for an interview smiling at the talk his band mates and friends were saying. a little while later they went out into the interview room organising themselves and sitting down waiting. the interviewer came into the room and they heard the count down, ‘3, 2, 1 begin.’ the interviewer welcomed måneskin and saying thanks for joining them today. then the questions began.

the questions were more or less the same as the normal interviews they attended to but then they started asking for personal opinions about other music related stuff. ethan then got asked, ‘ethan, if you could choose any band to collaborate with what band would you choose?’ ‘y/n without a doubt.’ ‘and why is that?’ ‘i think their music style fits similarly to ours and they seem super fun to hang around. plus they have the same energy on stage as us so it works really well’ ethan answered smoothly.

the interview came to a end and they got thanked for attending yet again. the four of them gathered their things and left to go grab some drinks.

the interview was released a few weeks later and the comments exploded with how good and you and ethan would be together, some even created a ship name within a matter of minutes.

you were scrolling through instagram when you saw that you had an excessive amount of tags with ethan torchio, the drummer from måneskin. intrigued by why everyone was going ballistic over an interview you went to go find it. after watching around ten or so minutes you found that the ethan torchio wanted to collaborate with you.

after a few minutes debating whether or not you should you decided to dm ethan, you rewrote the message so many times it was horrifying that you ended up leaving it alone for a few hours out of nerves.

as you getting ready to go out to run a few errands a notification stood out to you. ‘@ethantorchio messaged you on instagram’ you basically ran to your phone and opened the message. ‘hey! i don’t know if you have seen the interview or what the fans are doing but i’d really like to meet up some time you seem super cool:))’

#ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #måneskin #fluff #vic de angelis #thomas raggi #damiano david #måneskin x reader

[1-800-simping]

your couple pics with måneskin

warnings: none! (let me know if i missed any)

victoria:

thomas:

damiano:

ethan:

a/n: none of these pics are mine! i found them off the internet so all creds go to the owners!!

#maneskin ffs #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfics #måneskin ffs #måneskin fanfics #måneskin fanfiction #måneskin x reader #måneskin #vic de angelis #vic de angelis x reader #victoria de angelis #victoria de angelis x reader #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #damiano david #damiano david x reader #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #couple pics

[ghostcookieturner]

what do you think about an imagine with damiano when he writes a song dedicated to you and performs it for the first time? 🤍

i would start seizing but that wouldn’t be very fitting for a fic so i’ll wipe up something where the reader doesnt die🤭

ps this is more like a blurb then an actual imagine just bc i’m horrible at describing things ajajaj

~~~~~~

300,000 HEARTS

where damiano sings a song about you he wrote in highschool, to a full arena

Damiano David x Fem!Girlfriend!Reader

word count: ~300

tws: grammatical errors, unedited, being totally flabbergasted lol

It hit you like a current in a river.

Your boyfriend, rockstar Damiano David, singing the song he wrote about you in high school, in front of the sold-out crowd at Circo Massimo.

The crowds reaction was everything but calm. They danced and swayed to the song while you held back tears. You knew it was your song from the first line of the first verse.

Of course, there were a couple tweaks and fixes to the song here and there, but the chorus sounds the same as it was when you were both 16. It’s a slow, little love ballad that has a 70s vibe to it. He called you a couple days after your first date and he told you to go over to his place. And there, he preformed the rough draft of the song he is performing right now, in front of the packed Circo Massimo.

It was his dream to preform here, sold out to a crowd who knew their songs like the back of their hands. That’s why the chorus sent 300,000 hearts to you, one from each person who attended.

You finally understood the lyrics now.

“300,000 hearts I send to you my love, my love.”

He gave you a wink after the last word, seeing your amazement even onstage.

Your insides melted, like a candle burning wax. All you could hear were the cheers and screams of fans all around you, obsessed with the new song.

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

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Muse

Painter!Ethan Torchio × GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Words: 1.3k

Summary: Ethan creates a masterpiece using makeup products, and Reader's face is the canvas

=======================================

======================================

“Are you sure you don’t mind helping me?” Ethan asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I know it’s really short notice, so you don’t have to.”

“Of course I want to help you.” You replied, leaning against the door frame as he gathered the rest of his supplies. “I’m actually kind of excited. I’ve never been a canvas before.”

Ethan was a pretty decent artist, dabbling with multiple forms of media, preferring ones such as charcoal drawings or a simple graphite sketch. Lately, he had been seeing various examples of artists using their own faces as their sketchpads. He marvelled at the idea of using makeup as a medium, and decided to have a go at it. However, doing it to his own face in front of a mirror might have been too steep of a challenge for his first time, so he opted for practicing on someone else first. And you were more than happy to oblige.

Ethan wanted the experience to be as comfortable for you as possible, choosing his bedroom as an optimal location. You sat down on the bed and brushed your arms against the smooth fabric of the blanket, using one of the pillows to lean back against the headboard.

Once you were settled, he laid out all the colors he would use, along with several brushes varying in size. You allowed Ethan to use your makeup for this adventure, and while you didn't have the largest collection of items, you did have an appreciation for graphic liners, which was the closest makeup product to paint that you could possibly have. You informed him of having to spray the liners with water to activate them, and that was really all there was to it. In his mind, it was just like using watercolor paints. 

Once you saw him coat the brush with the first color, you felt yourself getting excited again. "Are you ready?" Ethan whispered, holding the brush a few inches from your cheek.

"Permission to paint is granted." You declared with a giggle, closing your eyes and leaning forward. The second the blob of pigment touched your face, you wanted to squirm, but it was more from anticipation than anything else.

"Is it cold?" Ethan asked, sensing your plight of trying not to move.

"Not too bad." You mumbled, making sure not to stretch your cheeks too much. "It kinda tickles." Keeping with the theme, Ethan used your makeup brushes instead of his own. His were too abrasive to be used on your face anyway. But even though they were your own brushes and you had used them more times than you could count, the way they glided across your skin gave you a type of tranquility you had never known before. 

Ethan hardly said a word while he was working. He had his quiet moments on ordinary days, but while he was concentrating, you couldn't even so much as hear his breathing. His level of focus was unmatched, and it was always clearly visible when viewing the masterpieces he was able to create. 

The silence throughout the room actually served to heighten your other senses, and the experience was magical. You felt every stroke of the brushes, the difference in the density of the bristles based on which one he was using, and somehow, each color felt different as well. You still had no idea what he was creating, but the mysterious aspect served to benefit you. It was similar to viewing a piece of abstract art, but almost from the inside out. You were the foundation for said art, and you had no clue what it looked like. It was the most anticipating of exhibitions, one that you were honored to be a part of.

“You doing okay?” Ethan piped up, making small circular motions on your eyelids. You slightly nodded, not wanting to disturb what he was doing, but enough to give him an answer. “Just checking,” Ethan replied, chuckling to himself. “For a second there, I thought you fell asleep on me.” You tightly pursed your lips, attempting to stifle your laughter to preserve his precious artwork.

“You can laugh, you know.” He commented.

“I don’t want to crease anything.” You responded. “You worked very hard on it.” You still had your eyes closed, but could almost see Ethan staring intently at your lips.

“Hearing your laughter is worth more than anything I could ever create.”

After several minutes, and several more brush changes, Ethan had finished his masterpiece. Apparently, you two had been sitting there for quite a while, much longer than you estimated. Upon opening your eyes, you were captivated by how the rays of sunlight coming through the window were not only in a different position, but they were beginning to turn a dusty orange. To you, it had felt like mere seconds, as it seems to be true that pleasant times pass by quicker. 

You turned back to Ethan, who offered you a warm smile, letting you know he was satisfied with his work. He extended his hand to help you sit up straight.

“Okay, what goofy-looking creature did you turn me into?” You joked, standing up to make your way towards the vanity mirror.

“Very funny.” Ethan retorted. “But I’m quite proud of it, and I hope you like it as much as I do.” When you gazed at your reflection, your eyes widened. The amount of detail he had put into his creation was astounding.

Starting at your jawline, a flurry of monochrome green rolling hills were bounding up towards your cheeks. Ethan even integrated your facial features into the artwork, painting your lips to look like a giant flower neatly perched on one of the hills. Blanketed across your nose and underneath your eyes was the beginning of a beautiful sunset, the orange hues slowly blending into yellow as they swirled around your eyes, ending their journey just below your browline. Continuing upwards, a rapid transition of color led to a world of vibrant pinks, blues, and purples. Ornately decorating your forehead were various groups of stars and constellations. You didn’t recognize all of them, but you were certain Ethan would be overjoyed to tell you if you asked him about it. For an artist that was known for mostly grayscale work, your face was sporting quite the rainbow. But what might’ve been the most overwhelmingly admirable detail was the fact that the entire piece was done in perfect symmetry. Whatever he added on one side, he had to add to the other, a crucial ingredient to anything that he created. It was a true work of art and you couldn't be more proud of him.

“Ethan, it’s beautiful.” You beamed. “Oh, gosh it’s so wonderful I never want to wash it off. I wish I could leave it here forever.” Ethan’s eyes lit up, his shoulders bopping back and forth with a mix of pride and excitement.

“I’m so happy you’re pleased with it.” He said, staring in the mirror alongside you for another closer look. “But I’m sure it will get itchy eventually, which is why I ask that you let me take some photos before you wipe it off.”

You stepped back to pose as Ethan took out his phone. He captured several images of his creation, all in various lighting and angles, keeping his fingers under your chin to tilt your face in between photos. Once he was done, you looked in the mirror again, silently planning the next time you wanted him to do this. 

"Oh, wait, I forgot to sign it." Ethan whispered as he turned you back to face him. You were about to make a comment when he leaned in closer, pressing a punctuating kiss to your lips.

Well, at least no one could ever replicate the signature.

==================================

Once again, thank y'all so much for 50 followers!! 🥰🥰🥰 I promised to post something today, and something you shall get! As far as full fics are concerned, I don't have any other ones planned, so requests are always appreciated! 💕

#maneskin #måneskin #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio fanfiction #ethan torchio imagine #måneskin x reader #måneskin fanfiction #ethan torchio x you #ethan torchio x y/n

[l0standn0tf0und]

the seventh part of my favorite fics with Little Beautiful Gorgeous Breathtaking Talented Meow Meow

first part

second part

third part

fourth part

fifth part

sixth part

* - smut

I'll sit here, with my arms wrapped around you, all night

I really do love you (😭the reason of my mental breakdown, such a good work)

the part of me i’ll always need

♡shy boy (everyone, do you hear me? I mean everyone, drop anything you're doing now, and read this one and the one below. because these are pure perfection)

♡prompt 17

♡in need of some extra love

♡let's just cuddle?

♡I'll kiss you again (if every time I re-read this I received a coin, then I would be a millionaire. I'm dead serious, I've re-read it for a shitload of times, this fic deserves all the time in the world to be spent on reading it)

♡love is in the small things

♡fluffy abc (14k of perfect representation of relationships with thomas. 14k of sweetness. 14k of perfectly described temper of thomas. and simply 14k of words that will bring you comfort and calm)

♡all my friends told me you’d break my heart*

♡satin, lace, and other pretty things p.2 & p.3* (these are favorite smut fics ever)

♡the taste of it* (no, I've changed my mind, this! is my favorite smut fic ever)

♡lesson one: it's all about anticipation*

♡lesson four: take matters into your own hands*

♡lesson six: the choice is yours*

♡hacred heart - tainted church* (someone, for the God's sake, call firefighters , this fic is too hot)

♡loosing it (part 1)*

all the love to the authors of all these masterpieces: @cuzimitaliano @eyoricka @tempobrucera @mywritingonlyfans @idyllicbutterfly @writingmaneskin @filthforfriends @oro-e-diamanti ❤️

masterlist

add yourself to my taglist

sweeties from my taglist🥰: @that-one-ma-blog @littlebitchsposts @shadowhuntyi @imjustanerdwholikestoread @britishmoonchild @maneslut @iamtashaquinn @icarodamiano @butkutee @writingmaneskin @theimpossiblehologramtree @little-moonbeam-666 @ilwiwbysmv @cc0le @oro-e-diamanti @inari-zaheer @superchrystaldrug @hiraetheral @que--sera--sera @iosonoarina @idyllicbutterfly @weareoddlydrawn @teenyweenynightghost (feel free and let me know if you wanna be removed from the tag list)

#thomas raggi #måneskin #maneskin #thomas maneskin #thomas raggi fluff #thomas raggi smut #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi fanfiction #thomas raggi x you #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #damiano david #thomas raggi x y/n #thomas raggi fic #thomas raggi imagine #måneskin x reader #måneskin imagine #måneskin fanfiction #maneskin x reader #maneskin x you #maneskin fluff #maneskin fic #maneskin smut #damiano maneskin #ethan maneskin #maneskin fanfiction

[maneskin-dimensione]

Genuine question: is there such a thing as over-writing? Because I've been fine so far but today it's like I've just lost my motivation to write and everything that I have managed to write today reads like shit :/

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

[littlest-dark-age]

Drabble/dialogue reqs open!

#harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders era #remus lupin imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #marvel imagine #marvel hc #steve rogers x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #baron zemo x reader #måneskin #måneskin x reader #damiano david x reader #vic de angelis x reader #thomas raggi x reader #ethan torchio x reader #dialogue

[marlena-immortale]

Imagine being annoyed with damiano’s new haircut because there’s nothing to tug on while he goes down on you and he just smirks every time you pout

Aww I love this!

At first you love it because the short cut gives you the best access to give him the head scratches that he loves, but then once he starts kissing down your body and starts licking your clit and all you want to do is tug him closer ... there's nothing to hold on to. He hears you whimper and looks up to see you pouting at him and asks what's wrong. When you tell him you miss tugging on his hair he just smirks and shakes his head, getting back to work and guiding your hand to the back of his head anyway.

#maneskin smut #maneskin x reader #damiano david smut #damiano david x reader #måneskin smut #måneskin x reader #damiano david #maneskin #måneskin #asks #blurbs

[filthforfriends]

Lighthouse

Thomas x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home,” you squeak, vision blurred. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Repeat,” you croak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's not your fault.”

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

“Thomas!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just fight with me now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m. Not. Crazy.”

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

“I know what anger sounds like, Thomas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, I’m so sorry –”

“No.”

“No?”

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

“But in the elevator I –”

“Nope.”

“The artichoke.”

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

“I had a full mental breakdown in public.”

“And?”

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

“Approval pending.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You are my lighthouse.”

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

-XOXO Eden

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

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[stardustsymphony]

theo be like:

#theodore nott #theo nott #idk its just funny to me #spotify didn't gave #me lyrics #): #theodore nott x reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #theo nott x reader #måneskin #rush måneskin

[1-800-simping]

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

warnings: mentions of food, fire (kinda??) let me know if i missed any!!

Victoria:

so grateful for you and absolutely loves it

“woah, thanks y/n! ugh, it looks delicious,” said your girlfriend as she began cutting the pancakes you had just made. she motioned for you to come closer, which you did, only to be rewarded with a side hug and a kiss to your forehead. 

Thomas:

panicked when he woke up without you beside him

“y/n?? where are you??” thomas called out just before he walked into the kitchen. his worried face quickly formed into a smile. he made his way over to you, slithering his arms around your waist while he gently squeezes you. you lean backwards into his embrace, while his head peeks over your shoulder. “that looks so good,” he commented before softly pecking your cheek. “thank you, it’ll be ready soon, so sit down!!” 

Damiano:

makes jokes about how you probably burned something in the house

"i was not expecting this," damiano said as you set the tray of food down on his lap. he pulled you in for a quick kiss, then began to take the first bite of the meal. you stood beside him, eagarly waiting for his reaction as he chewed with a blank face. as he swallowed the food, he turned to look at  you. "it’s fantastic! grazie, mi amore." you sighed in relief. "but, i'm wondering if you burnt part of the house down while i was sleeping. i doubt you could've made something this good without doing something wrong," he said with a wide smirk on his face. you put your hand on your chest and gasped at your boyfriend's comment. he only laughed and fed you a bite of the delicous food. 

Ethan:

finds it so touching that you went out of your way to do this for him

"good morning," ethan said as you entered the room. he was proppped up in the bed, reading  the book he had bought just the other day. "good morning," you replied as you set the tray on his lap. he lifted the book and fixed his eyes on the source of the sudden weight change, smiling in realization. "is this for me?" he asked. he had already set down his book next to him. "yep, enjoy!" you replied. he thanked you as he took a bite, his eyes lit up with joy. 

word count: 389

a/n: vic please accept my hand in marriage, i’m begging you

#maneskin #måneskin #damiano david #damiano #ethan torchio #ethan #victoria de angelis #vic de angelis #victoria #vic #thomas raggi #thomas #maneskin x reader #måneskin x reader #måneskin fanfiction #maneskin fanfics #maneskin ffs #maneskin fanfiction #måneskin ffs #måneskin fanfics

[taste-your-silhouette]

I want to dance on your body

Pairings: Damiano David xfem!reader

Contents: smut 

Summary: You and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.

Words: ~2192

A/N: Hi, hello and please, forgive me again if you come across any errors while reading. I recommend you to play Touch Me and just enjoying ✨

You and your best friend are strolling into the party of some badass celeb she knows, she's probably already mentioned the name a million times, but you ain't giving much of a damn, you just wanna hit up a party, grab a few drinks, and bust some moves. Have a blast and enjoy yourself!

As you and your friend make your way through the entrance, you exchange a sly grin while vibrant, trippy lights groove to the beat throughout the crib. Side by side, you advance towards the dance floor, and your friend chimes in:

"Alright, let's have a fucking blast tonight," she says with a grin, and a contagious smile spreads across your face as well.

You were both pumped for this party and ready to let loose and enjoy yourselves to the max.

In a split second, she grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bar, where a bunch of peeps are lining up, ordering their go-to drinks, all geared up to hit the dance floor again. You step up to the bartender and request your ultimate drink, downing it in a single gulp before quickly ordering another shot and doing it all over again.

The drink ignites a fire within you, fueling you with energy and liquid courage to fully embrace the moment, without a care in the world. No worries, just pure enjoyment.

You and your friend head straight to the dance floor, grooving together to the sick beats. But before long, someone swoops in and starts getting their groove on with her, leaving you to your own devices. No biggie though, it doesn't faze you one bit. You keep on dancing as if the music is pumping right through your veins.

Eyes closed, you immerse yourself in the moment, feeling the heat of someone's body swaying alongside yours. Whoever it is, they sense your awareness and since you don't brush them off, they casually rest their hand on your waist, getting even closer in their moves. Your ass is the only thing touching him as you dance with a touch of sensuality right there on the dance floor. The electricity builds up as you grind with this mysterious dancer behind you, sending tingles down your spine.

You both bust some moves together for three consecutive songs, and it's as if you're in perfect harmony. The dance isn't just about showing off or impressing each other; it's about creating something extraordinary between you.

As the beats thump on, you suddenly hear his voice whispering in your ear, "Finally, someone who's up for it." 

It tempts you to ask what he means, but you decide against it. You don't want to risk blurting out something silly and ruining the magical vibe of what just went down. So, you simply let the moment linger, cherishing the mystery and excitement that swirls around you.

You sense the hint of a smile against your cheek, and it elicits a light-hearted chuckle from you. It's best to leave it at that and keep relishing in the night's pleasures.

You turn your gaze towards him, even though the lights make it difficult to see his face clearly. Nevertheless, you can tell that he's undeniably attractive (and damn, he can dance like nobody's business).

It's time to get another drink!

As you reach the bar, you order another drink, but this time you savor it slowly, relishing every drop of that boozy sting as it glides down your throat. The flavors dance on your tongue, creating a delightful sensation.

Before you're about to leave the bar, the stranger appears by your side once more, placing an order for two drinks. Now, with a clearer view of his face, you can't help but smile as your gaze locks onto his handsome features.

He returns the smile and pops the question:

"Care for another drink?"

You nod in agreement, and with that, you both exchange proper introductions. Skipping the dance floor this time, you snag two primo seats at the bar, engaging in a conversation that flows as if you've been pals for ages.

Damiano and you have reached a level where you're familiar with the key aspects of each other's lives. It's not something you typically do, spilling your guts to strangers, but under the influence of alcohol and with the enchantment Damiano has cast upon you, it feels natural to engage in heartfelt conversation.

He suggests, "How about finding a more quiet spot?"

The idea resonates with you, and you nod in agreement, intrigued by the prospect of finding a quieter place where you can continue this magical connection.

You flash him a mischievous smile and take hold of his hand, leading him away from the lively dance floor and the bustling bar. As you pass through the living room, your eyes catch sight of numerous unoccupied couches, and you can't resist the temptation. You abruptly halt, tugging on his hand to bring him to a stop, and in a matter of seconds, both of you find yourselves sprawled out on one of the cozy couches.

Damiano's hands be all up in his waist as you're locking lips in a way that has both of you gasping for breath, but you don't give a damn. You feel Damiano's hands on your thighs, giving them a tight squeeze as you continue kissing you, and you let out a moan, trying to catch your breath and satisfy the intense desire he's been arousing in you since you started dancing together.

"Allright?" he asks you.

You nod eagerly, craving his touch on every inch of your body, as his hand traces a path from your thigh to your clit.

"Holy crap," you moan, overcome with pleasure.

He slid your underwear aside, skillfully rubbing your clit at a tantalizingly slow pace. The way he teased you was driving you wild. You rested your head on his shoulder, attempting to conceal your flushed face while muffling your moans as best you could.

"Oh fuck," you whispered, the pleasure intensifying as he increased his pace, making it even more challenging to stifle your cries.

"It's okay, let go. Everyone's too drunk to notice us," he playfully remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

His words gave you the permission you needed, and you couldn't help but release your moans. They weren't overly loud, but they would definitely catch the attention of anyone who wasn't lost in their own drunken haze.

"Good girl," he murmured into your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine.

The fire inside you burned hotter and hotter, your moans growing louder with each passing moment. All sense of shame vanished, replaced only by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"I'm close!" you moaned, your voice filled with desperate need. And just as you uttered those words, the climax washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

"That was... amazing," you whispered, still catching your breath from the intensity of the experience.

He hinted at taking the rendezvous to his hotel for more privacy, and you could sense the anticipation building. He stood up, extending his hand towards you, and you eagerly took it, rising to your feet. Adjusting your dress, you both made your way out of the bustling party.

Upon arriving at his hotel room, he opened the door slowly, pulling you inside. As you stepped into the room, your eyes took in the sight of scattered papers on the king-size bed. Being a singer in a band, it was no surprise that he had been busy writing songs, the creative process evident in the disarray around you.

"Will you write a song about tonight?" you asked, a hint of anticipation in your voice. As the door closed and clicked, Damiano wasted no time. He swiftly unbuttoned his white shirt, discarding it onto the dresser.

"Probably," he replied, his gaze fixed on you as he moved closer. With a deft hand, he skillfully removed your dress, casting it aside without a second thought. Now, standing before him in nothing but your underwear, you felt a surge of confidence.

His eyes tracing over your body, and he couldn't help but confess:

"You look... amazing." His voice dripped with admiration and desire, fueling the intensity of the moment.

He placed his hands firmly on your hips, just as he had done earlier, and leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You reciprocated, savoring the taste of his lips, and instinctively placed your hands on his face, deepening the connection between you.

Feeling the intensity between you both, he reached down and firmly gripped one of your legs, lifting it up and resting it on his hip. The sensation heightened, and you could feel him more intimately. With a surge of desire, he broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of lust and admiration and in a bold move, he swiftly switched his hold to your other thigh, lifting you effortlessly and pressing you against the wall. The rush of being carried and pinned against the solid surface added an exhilarating edge to the moment, intensifying the passion and desire that consumed you both.

You locked eyes with each other, the intensity building with each passing moment, until he couldn't resist any longer and leaned in to capture your lips in another passionate kiss. The room seemed to ignite with fervor as the kiss deepened, fueled by an overwhelming desire.

Both of you were breathless, your bodies craving more. With a sense of urgency, Damiano swept you off your feet and carried you to the edge of the bed, gently placing you there. He swiftly cleared the clutter of papers that had occupied the bed, letting them cascade to the floor, clearing the space for your intimate encounter.

As he turned his attention back to you, his eyes filled with admiration and desire. He leaned in closer, his voice a soft whisper against your skin:

"You're so beautiful, you look like an angel." His hand caressed your face tenderly, tracing the contours with gentle affection.

You smirked mischievously, pulling him closer to you, your desire evident in your eyes. 

"I could say the same for you, but how about we go to heaven together?" You whispered seductively, your lips grazing his neck on her before playfully biting down.

In an instant, it seemed like something ignited within Damiano. He firmly gripped your neck, exerting a delicious control, and guided you down onto the bed. His lips trailed along your neck, seeking out your sweet spot, and when he found it, he indulged in it wildly. Leaving a trail of hickeys and bites in his wake for him, he marked you as his own for him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping it tightly as you let out soft moans of pleasure.

The intensity grew as Damiano skillfully removed your panties, unveiling your desires. The air crackled with anticipation as your bodies yearned for the connection that awaited them.

"Are you wet for me, huh?" He sensually bites his lip while locking eyes with you.

He moans in delight as he gently inserts his cock into your pussy, igniting waves of pleasure.

Bestowing upon you the most sublime ecstasy.

He moves his hips with deliberate grace, thrusting in and out, synchronizing your desires.

"Oh, fuck!" you passionately moan, your voice filled with pure bliss.

Damiano smirks, his confidence growing, and intensifies his rhythm, heightening your desire.

As you lose yourself in the throes of passion, your hand instinctively covers your mouth, but Damiano forcefully removes it, yearning to hear your euphoric symphony.

"No, I wanna hear you when you go to heaven, y/n," he whispers with fervor.

You affirm with a nod, surrendering to the divine pleasure that awaits you.

You moan Damiano's name as he intensifies the rhythm of his thrusts, causing your head to fall back onto his plush pillows.

"Oh, Damiano, I'm so close!" 

"Come, y/n, cum to me," he asserts, his voice laced with longing.

You struggle to hold back, determined to hear him plead, but his relentless stimulation of your spot makes it nearly impossible. The pleasure is simply too overwhelming.

"Come, y/n," Damiano groans, his voice filled with urgency.

You tighten your grip around him and succumb to the waves of ecstasy he elicits. As you reach the pinnacle of pleasure with him, he remains motionless, deeply embedded within you, his body collapsing onto yours, a resounding groan of your name escaping his lips.

The intensity of the moment consumes you, as he pours every ounce of himself into you, leaving you both utterly spent and satisfied.

You both were breathless and drenched in perspiration, your legs entwined with his.

"I wanna go to heaven with you again" Damiano whispers, his face inches away from yours.

You smile, gazing into their eyes, and you can see the unmistakable lust and desire reflected in him. You hope that he can also perceive the depth of your yearning and how much you desire the very same thing he does.

#Må #måneskin #damiano david #damiano maneskin #damiano david x reader #damiano david x you #damiano david fic #damiano david smut #maneskin imagine

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Sleepy Stitches

Thomas Raggi × GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff (maybe a sprinkle of Angst? idk)

Warnings: Mentions of needles (they're embroidery needles, but they're still needles 😅), brief mention of smoking

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Thommy can't sleep, so he works on one of Reader's art projects until he falls asleep

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    “So you just take the needle and thread it through here, trying to keep the stitches as tight together as possible.” You instructed, demonstrating the action on your small embroidery hoop, pushing the needle through the stretched muslin fabric, adding another colorful loop of thread to your artwork. “You can try it if you’d like.”

    Thomas held his hands out to take the hoop from you, loosely holding the needle between his long fingers. He pinched it between his index and thumb, attempting to locate the closest possible entry point next to the stitch you had just placed before him. He poked it through the fabric, flipping the hoop over to make sure he initiated contact. He giggled when looking at the other side, realizing how zany the bottom half appeared, finally unveiling the secret twisted pathways underneath the beauty of an embroidery artist’s work.

    “It looks like a bowl of colorful spaghetti.” He mused, flipping the hoop back to its right side to see where the next entry hole should go. He alternated between looking at the top and bottom, making sure the needle lined up with its target. When he finally poked through, the noise of its break caught his attention. It sounded like puncturing the batter head of a drum, the pop echoing throughout the quiet living room.

    “I’m sure you have gotten used to that sound by now.” He teased, handing the hoop back to you to assess his progress. You chuckled, sticking the needle halfway through the fabric to keep it from accidentally rolling away and poking you. You only made that mistake once.

    “Well, the fabric has to be super tight so the stitches don’t get all jumbled together. That’s the purpose of the hoop. Fabric slack is an embroiderer’s kryptonite.” You punctuated your statement with a snicker. Upon further inspection, you noticed that the exit hole you made during your stitch was suddenly a bit bigger than before. A classic rookie mistake made by almost every novice of embroidery art, including yourself at one time: accidentally putting the needle through the previous thread hole when trying to get the stitches as close as you can. A satin stitch, or any of the flavors of embroidery, weren’t an exact science. However, there were times when things needed to be as precise as possible.

    “Thommy, when I said get them as close as possible, putting them through the same hole was not exactly what I had in mind.” You joked, showing him the hoop. He tilted his head in confusion, leaning forward to inspect the threads, gently parting them to find they were indeed not separated by even the thinnest of weft fibers.

    “Oh…sorry.” He whispered, laughing awkwardly while running his fingers through his hair, sporting that incredibly lovable downturned smile. 

    “No need to apologize,” You assured, “It’s quite a common mistake and it’s an easy fix. I can’t tell you how many times I did that when I first started. Don’t worry, you’ll get better at it.” You saw Thomas’ hesitation still lingered as you simply backtracked the needle, undoing his stitch. You quickly did another one and handed it back to him, offering him a redo. “I know it’s a small needle, so I get if it’s tedious, but you can try again and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

    “I don’t know, love,” Thomas sighed, “maybe this whole stitching thing is too hard for me. Plus, you’ve been working on this thing for like three weeks. I don’t want to mess it up for you.”

    You pouted, staring down at the artwork in your hands. It was a six-inch circular landscape, complete with a golden sunset and a lush field of flowers. Well, almost all the flowers had been added. You were currently filling in the various rolling hills with a gorgeous sage green thread. You wanted Thomas to help with the flowers, too, but the idea of even attempting a French knot stressed him out. You knew he wanted to learn, since embroidery art was something you loved. As your boyfriend, he was interested in learning about anything you liked, but this was one thing he felt like he couldn’t completely get into.

    “If potentially messing up my artwork is what you’re worried about, how about we try a fresh piece of fabric?” You tried, setting the hoop and needle down on the coffee table. “I could show you a chain or a stem stitch again. Or you can face your fears and try the French knot?”

    “Oh, no, leprotta, those are way harder than what you’re showing me now!” Thomas whined, rising from his seat on the couch to try and compensate for his rising nervous energy. “Maybe we can pick this up again later? I think I need a little break.” 

Your eyes widened, not sure how to respond. Not wanting to make him any more anxious, you mustered a small “Okay” before returning the hoop back to your bedroom. But “picking up again later” never happened.

    Later that night, Thomas found it hard to fall asleep. As much as he loved to sleep, this time it just wouldn't happen. He tried to get comfortable time and time again, but to no avail. He would close his eyes and try to bring about his own exhaustion as much as he could, but when he glanced at the clock again, only mere minutes had passed. Despite having to be awake early the following morning to be on time for one of the band’s interviews, it seemed that the more he tried to sleep, the more restless he became.

Thomas sat up, wondering what could be prying him away from a night of peaceful slumber. Too much caffeine? He may have had a larger slice of chocolate cake than usual for dessert, but that never bothered him in the past. Was it his nerves? In that case, having a cigarette typically calmed him down enough to get some rest. Doing his best not to disturb you, who was occupying the other half of the bed, he slowly got out from under the blanket and headed to the window. As he lit his cigarette and exhaled the first puff of air, he felt bad about the interaction he had with you earlier. Thomas didn’t want you to think he didn’t care enough to contribute to your art project. He just wanted to make sure that if he was going to make any sort of contribution, he was going to do it right.

Sticking the cigarette in the ashtray to extinguish it, he softly made his way back to the bed and began yet another attempt at sleeping. About thirty minutes later, his eyes shot open again, only aggravating him further. Thomas looked at the clock again. If things continued like this any longer, he’d be having to get up anyway by the time he got around to falling asleep. It was situations like these where the only viable solution was to get up and do something until it physically tired him out, so he had no choice but to go to bed. 

Sitting upright again, Thomas surveyed the room to find his perfect activity. Practicing guitar was impossible as it was far too loud and would surely wake you up. He could write a new song, but currently had no good ideas, and anything he wrote down would've been forced just to keep himself occupied. And then he spotted it.

Taking one final glance over at you to assure you were still sleeping, he tiptoed over to your desk to grab the small wooden hoop, still attached to the same threaded strand of sage green yarn. He contemplated staying at the desk to work on it, but feared that the scraping of the chair legs against the floor would wake you immediately, so back to the bed it was.

Thomas stared at the fabric, his fingertips caressing the shiny golden clamp at the top of the hoop. Plucking the needle from its muslin bed, he started from where you left off. His first idea on how to improve his satin stitch technique was to use one hand to feel along the bottom for the previous thread loop, preventing him from placing the thread in the wrong spot. However, all he succeeded in doing was poking his middle finger when he tried to make the stitch because he didn’t move it before threading.

Mouthing “Ow” as he yanked his finger away from the fabric, he began to get discouraged again. Taking a steadying breath, he closed his eyes and tried to remain positive. “Okay, Thom, you got this.” He whispered ever so softly, the words barely leaving his plush lips. “You can do this.”

 Not being able to see very well with only the small streaks of moonlight coming through the window, Thomas turned around to switch on the small lamp next to the bed, making the room a tad brighter. It wasn’t much light, considering it was only a table lamp, but at least he could see the colors on the fabric better instead of everything looking like one big grey blob.

You had been sound asleep up until this point, but the sudden abundance of light that seemed to be right outside your eyelids caught your attention. You slowly opened your eyes to inspect the source, seeing Thomas sitting up in front of you, slightly hunched over and extremely focused, his activity of choice concealed from your view. 

“Thommy?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “What are you doing, baby?”

Thomas froze. This was quite possibly the only time he would ever prefer you not to know what he was doing. He slowly turned his head to look at you, his expression one of worry as he knew he had woken you up. Now that his position had changed, you could clearly see what he was up to. You smiled faintly, your emotion a mix of tiredness and perplexion as to why Thomas decided that now was the time to practice his embroidery skills. Upon closer inspection, the odd timing wasn’t the only thing to bewilder you. The way Thomas held an embroidery needle was unlike any you had ever seen before. He held it like a pencil, pushing it through the fabric with his pinky. It was certainly different, but undoubtedly adorable considering he was still a beginner. You could almost start giggling from that alone.

You sat up next to him and rested your chin on his shoulder, placing a kiss on the side of his neck. He smiled and continued to fill in the design, keeping the stitches nice and tight, just like you had shown him earlier.

“I guess you had been paying attention.” You whispered as you continued to observe him. 

“I remembered everything you said.” Thomas responded, his voice an equally low whisper. “Sorry for waking you, though.”

“You didn’t wake me.” You lied, hoping to ease his tension. “I felt a bit restless anyway.” Thomas knew you weren’t being truthful, but didn’t press the issue any further. “What made you want to practice this now?” You asked him, noticing his hand twitch at the question.

“I couldn’t sleep,” He confessed, “And I thought I could do something until I got tired. I thought maybe some practice alone would be better for me. But then you woke up.” And that’s when it hit you. 

“Did practicing in front of me make you nervous?” You breathed, praying you weren’t correct but sensing there was no other logical conclusion. Thomas nodded.

“When you first asked me to try it with you, I assumed it would be easy for me. Sewing is something you need to have good finger movement for. I figured my guitar skills would help me a lot, but I was wrong.” He explained, making another stitch to demonstrate. “The one big difference I didn’t think of was that, when I’m playing guitar, my fingers are constantly moving. From what you’ve shown me, sewing is much slower. I think the idea of normally moving quickly is what’s making me mess up. I just wanted to practice a bit more before coming back to you with it.”

Your gaze flickered between Thomas and the embroidery hoop. You smiled in a way that made your dimples quite prominent. “From what I can see here, you’re skills are doing nothing but good things for you.” Thomas stared down at the fabric, wondering what you meant. “I can’t even tell where I finished and you started.” You praised him, running the tip of your fingers across the muted green loops. 

Thomas looked up at you, his pupils so large you’d think he was high. “You mean it?”

“It never mattered to me if you were good at it, Thommy.” You replied, resting your chin against his shoulder again. “Regardless of what you were able to do, I’m just happy you want to be involved.”

Thomas resumed his embroidering stance, left hand holding the edge of the hoop against his lap while his right hand tightly gripped the needle. He went to make another stitch, but stopped. His eyes moved back and forth, as if he were reading invisible words on an equally transparent page. His left hand abandoned the hoop and grasped the thread instead, making sure to grip it as close to the fabric as possible. He softly repeated what you had told him when wrapping the thread for a knot. “Three loops for a small one, five loops for medium, seven for large.”

He carefully coiled the thread around the scarf of the needle before making contact with the fabric, remembering to hold the knot firmly against the stretched muslin to ensure it was secure. He extended his right hand to pull the thread, making a dent in the center of the yarn ball like a bundt cake. He had successfully created a French knot.

“You did it.” You whispered, moving a few stray hairs away from Thomas’ eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Thommy.” 

“I love you, tesoro.” He purred, turning his head towards you to press a kiss to your lips, his heart soaring with confidence and validation. 

“I love you too, baby.” You responded, softly tracing your finger along the edge of his jawline. Feeling uplifted from his wonderful contribution to your artwork, he continued adding stitches to the fabric, making rapid progress to the various regions of the field. You observed him with pure happiness, lazily stroking his hair, sweeping your fingers along the back of his neck. You felt your eyelids getting heavy, briefly closing them as you continued to lean against Thomas’ shoulder.

After several minutes, you no longer heard the distinct popping and stretching of any stitches being made. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked over at Thomas’ face to see his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, his long eyelashes softly resting against his cheeks. You knew he was trying to fall asleep, but you thought he would at least make it back to bed before he did so.

Chuckling to yourself, you slowly took the hoop and needle out of his hands and placed them back on your desk, making sure Thomas didn’t fall forward or backward when you moved. Turning back to him, you gently held the back of his neck as you guided him to lay down, pulling the blanket up over his chest before getting comfortable on your side of the bed. Thankfully, you didn’t disturb him on the way down, since he was typically a heavy sleeper once he was finally out. Hurriedly turning off the lamp and climbing back into bed, you cuddled him until you fell asleep, ever so proud of him for always doing his best.

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I wrote a rough draft of this fic about a year ago reflecting on an embroidery class I took in high school. And yes, I included the part about awkwardly holding a needle because one of my classmates held their needle that way and it absolutely baffled me lmao 🤭 I was always amazed how they made such incredible designs using that particular form but I guess they were doing something right 😁

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