Maneskin X Reader - Blog Posts

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

So go ahead and request whatever you'd like with whoever you'd like (writers block really is killing me). Btw, I'm working on one request, but it might take a little while (school is kicking my ass).

Ethan sharing his girlfriend/SO with his bandmates because she brought up the idea of group sex once. He doesn't tell her until she gets there and he comes back from the kitchen and whispers it in her ear when Damiano is feeling her up. She gets a little scared and leans on Ethan the entire time and he's right there reassuring her and making sure they don't do anything to make her uncomfortable while he's also joining in.

Three Makes a Group | Damiano David & Ethan Torchio

Pairing: Damiano David x Måneskin!reader x Ethan Torchio

Summary: After bringing up the idea of group sex to your boyfriend Ethan, you have to deal with the consequences of your dirty mind.

Warning/s: smut, just pure smut, spanking, prising, cum talk, dirty talk, dom!Ethan, pussy drunk Damiano, sub!reader, choking, name calling, group sex, threesome, swearing

Author's note: so this is the first time that I'm writing smut. Like... for real. And not only that, it's also the first time that I'm writing something poly. So, I'm sorry if it's bad, I really tried. Anyways, enjoy you, nasty. 😏

You didn't exactly remember that you were talking about that topic with your handsome boyfriend Ethan until a gorgeous frontman showed up at your house, more precisely your kitchen, for a reason that was extremely different than usually.

It was about a week ago when Ethan and you were watching some shitty move that somehow had more sex scenes than an actual plot. You were both snuggled up next to each other under the blanket placed on your sofa as you ate popcorn. Suddenly, just as you thought that a girl and that dude in the movie were about to finally have a normal civil conversation, they started to do everything, but talk. Another girl's love interest showed up and all three of them started to go at it. While watching that scene, you suddenly remembered one of your dirty fantasies.

You don't exactly know what the hell came over you when you started to speak about it with Ethan. It started out as a curious question when you asked him if he ever had group sex before he met you and if he did what was it like. You also said it so innocently that poor Ethan almost choked on his popcorn. But, no. It turned out that he never had group sex, but he said that it would probably be a great experience, sure. After that you simply said "okay" and completely dropped the topic. You felt embarrassed for one reason or another and Ethan felt completely shocked. He simply couldn't believe that you would just ask him that, but then dropped the topic like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like you didn't just ask him what group sex would feel like. It felt like you were asking him where the remote was. Ethan liked that. He found it very amusing. After that little, innocent, conversation, he couldn't get the idea of group sex with you out of his mind.

A few days after that eventful conversation, he suddenly got an idea with who the two of you could do it with. Damiano David, your fellow band member. It was perfect. Damiano and you kind of knew each other the longest and you were like best friends, but he knew very well that Damiano and you found each other attractive. But then again, can he blame you, really? He couldn't. And so he didn't. Instead, he found this situation as a perfect plan to finally get it on with Damiano and you.

And so, this is how you ended up here. Standing in the middle of your kitchen, leaning back again your kitchen counter as you listened to your boyfriend and your fellow band member's plan. Group sex. With the two of them. You were actually very found of that idea, but you were still kind of nervous. After all, you have never done that before. Ethan and Damiano sensed your hesitation and quickly started to reassure you.

"Don't worry, dove." Damiano whispered as he came closer to you and softly started to cerise your soft cheek. "If you don't want to do it we don't have to. But if you want to do it, you don't have to worry. Ethan and I will take good care of you."

"So what do you say, amore?" Ethan got behind you as he slowly, softly started to plant kisses on your neck, Damiano slowly moving your hair off of your shoulder so Ethan could get more access to your neck. You couldn't help but to let out a little whimper. It felt so good, you started to slowly, but surely, relax against the passionate hold of your fellow band mates.

"So what do you say, little love?" Ethan whispered in your ear. "Do you fancy the idea of having the two of us?" You felt yourself shiver as you slowly nodded your head against him as he continued to give you endless kisses and now marks on your neck.

"Words, princess." Damiano softly growled under his breath as his hand found itself suddenly wrapped around your neck. "Yes. I want you, both."

"To what?" Damiano continued to tease you endlessly and it was truly tortures for you. For all of you. But Damiano was a tease, both Ethan and you should have known that for a fact.

"To fuck me." You moaned loudly just wanting for this to start already.

"Good answer." Ethan said as literally picked you up and carried you to Ethan's and your bedroom. Damiano slowly trailing behind you.

Once you got inside, Ethan gently threw you on the middle of the bed as Damiano shut the door behind him. In a matter of seconds, your clothes where nowhere to be found. Not like any of you actually cared about that. As you laid there completely naked, Ethan and Damiano showed you with compliments and endless kisses and sucking and bitting.

You were enjoying yourself so much, you didn't know it could be that good. Suddenly, it seemed like non of you three could take this torture anymore. Damiano got up and walked to the end of the bed. Ethan was drowning you in a passionate kiss as you suddenly felt Damiano grab your legs and you were quickly, quite needy, pulled toward him. Ethan never stopped his attack on you as your legs were dramatically pulled apart.

"Now I want to hear you scream our names, little dove." Damiano ordered you as he suddenly dived into your folds.

He started to quite literally make out with your little wet cunt. It was so passionate and so hot that you could help yourself, but to practically scream. Ethan suddenly started to attack your soft breasts. It felt to good. One of your hands found itself tangled in Ethan's hair and your other hand was gripping the bed sheets. You felt like you were about to explode. It started to get so much that you quickly felt your lower stomach tighten.

"Ethan! Damiano! Ahh-" You moaned their names loudly. It felt as if, after they heard you moan like that, they didn't slow down one bit. They spead up. You thought that it would be impossible for them to go faster than they're already going, but it turned out that you were clearly wrong. "I'm gonna-! Ah!"

"We know. Let go, amore." Ethan encouraged you and so you did just that. You released all over Damiano's tongue as you tried to catch your breath. Ethan continued to kiss your chest as Damiano started to continued to suck you dry.

You started to moan again as you tried to push away from Damiano because of overstimulation, but Ethan kept you in place buy placing both of his strong hands on your hips. He pinned you to the bed so you couldn't escape Damiano's vicious tongue. Just as you were about to cum again, Damiano quickly pulled away and Ethan stopped his attack on you. Damiano stood up with a slight slap on your tigh, prising you about how good you were for Ethan and him, as you continued to paint from exhaustion and disappointment from a lost orgasm. Slowly, Ethan got behind you. He pressed your back against his chest as Damiano brought the two of you to the edge of the bed.

"Now breath, little one." Ethan continued to whispered in your ear, his breath hot you felt lime you could cum again from just that. It felt so hot. It felt so much. "Damiano is gonna have your pretty little tight pussy because poor baby doesn't get you like this very often." He told you and you softly moaned at the thought of Damiano completely destroying your little cunt, giving it to you because you were their little slut. Made for their pleasures. "And I will have this amazing ass. I will enter you right here, right now. From behind while our friend fucks you." Ethan told you and you felt a sharp slap on your rounded ass. You moaned from an impact as you felt him slowly shushing you as he gently rubbed the sore spot of your ass.

"Now relax, baby." Ethan said as he slowly started to trail his hand towards your neck. He wrapped your hand around your neck and you felt him tighten his hold on it as he said his next words.

"Damiano is going to completely destroy your pussy and I'm going to completely destroy your gorgeous ass. Were going to ruin you for everyone, but ourselves. And remember this, little dove." Ethan loudly commanded as he watched Damiano slowly line up to your entrance waiting for Ethan to give him a green light. "We won't stop until you are completely dripping with our cum and begging us to stop filling you up. We may not even stop then." Ethan whispered hotly in your ear as he pressed his thumb against your lips. You immediately started to suck on his thumb wishing it was his cock and Damiano moaned at the sight.

"Fucking slut." He chuckled as he pinched your left nipple watching you as you moaned some more.

"Now prepare yourself. This may hurt a little." And boy it did. The two of them were so big that your poor little pussy and ass barely took both of them inside. Damiano started to literally moan as he entered you.

"I can't believe that your so fucking tight." He cried a bit, completely at your mercy. He was so drunk off of the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, milking him dry. "I'm gonna fucking destroy you, princess, you won't be able to walk for days." He promised you as he started to slowly rub your clit to help you get used to the feeling of them.

Ethan was not so much different. You were practically melting against his hold. He kept his grip on your neck as he entered you. He started to breathe heavily as he felt like he could cum just from your tight ass struggling to keep him inside. He brought his hand down very fast and he felt you yelp from the impact before he started to rub your sore ass and kiss your exposed back. You felt like you were in the middle of life and death. It was just so good that you didn't want the pain to stop. Ever. Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks as Ethan kissed them away. Damiano and him barely kept it together, but they would never even dream of making you feel even slightest bit uncomfortable so they stood frozen on their spot. After a while you ordered them to move. You couldn't take it anymore.

They both started to rock their hips, slowly picking up the pace. You were moaning so loudly. Ethan's hand around your neck, the other one was placed around your ribs fucking into you at inhuman speed. Damiano's head was thrown back as one of his hands was holding your legs open as wide as they could go and his other hand was gripping at your hip. Ethan and Damiano could practically feel that they were touching each other inside of you. It was tortures for all three of you.

"Ugh! Damiano! Ethan!" You were moaning uncontrollably as you felt like the coil inside of you was about to snap. "I'm gonna-!" You didn't even get to finish you sentence as you came so hard on them both. They picked up their paice. You were moaning from overstimulation as they both came inside of you. After a while they both pulled out of you, watching your pussy tighten around nothing as both of your holes were leaking with their cum. They started to finger you softly as Damiano kept shushing you. You were moaning softly, exhausted and overstimulated. They both fucked their cum back inside of you. After they were satisfied with their job, both of them collapsed on the bed on each side of you. They covered you in kisses as you tried to catch your breath.

"Rest, amore. Were not done with you yet."

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TAGLIST

@opal-rugger

Dad Damaino please

Papà | Damiano David

Pairing: Damiano David x reader

Summary: You woke up in the middle of the night just so that you realize that Damiano is not with you, but don't worry. You know where to find him.

Warning/s: just pure fluff, mantion of hospitals a few times, pregnancy and babies and all that stuff, dad Damiano (yes that should be a warning itself), first time writing anything related to babies and that kind of stuff, possible grammar and spelling mistakes (English is my second language)

Author's note: Ding! Order up!🛎 Here is another Damiano fic as you requested. I really do hope you like it. It is truly the first time that I wrote anything that included this type of topics, but I hope that I did a decent job. Thank you for the request, anon. Feel free to send more requests. Enjoy!! 👩‍🍳

You were snuggled deep in the silk sheets on Damiano's and yours bed. Once you heard the noise the first time you just started to press your face much deeper in your pillow. The softness and the warmth of your side of the bed was overwhelming. You were finally back home. Back in your own bed.

Oh, how much you missed your comfortable side of the bed. The soft, squishy pillow that felt like you were resting your face on a literal cloud. You missed the softness so much. You knew one thing for sure. Hospital beds sucked. Very much so. But, aside from all that. One thing you missed the most, one thing that you literally wanted to kill for when you were forced to lay in uncomfortable hospital bed for days, was Damiano's soft touch when you slept.

The feeling of his arm tightening around you and bringing you closer to keep you warm at night when you were practically fast asleep. You missed the feeling of his soft breathing that you felt against your neck every night. You just missed feeling his warmth and being in his safe hold in your sleep. When you slept in the same bed with him, it felt like the safest place ever. You felt like you were the safest you could ever be in the whole wide world right when you were in his arms. Speaking of Damiano, soon enough, as you steached your arm out and your fingers felt the sheets on the other side of the bed where Damiano was supposed to be sleeping, you noticed that Damiano wasn't laing in bed anymore. That's when you heard that little whining voice again, but it was slowly calming down, it was slowly getting quite and you knew what it was. You knew what was happening.

You gathered all of the strength you could so you could open your eyes. You did so with, what seemed like, a lot of effort. You than steached your arm a little bit left soaking in the feeling of the cold side of bed which Damiano occupied, but now was nowhere to be found. Yet you were sure that you knew exactly where he was. And so, with that thought, you decided that you should get up and confirm your suspicion. You couldn't help but let out a small soft groan at the thought of getting up from the bed. It doesn't matter, you think to yourself, the bed was getting colder without him anyways. You lifted the covers off of you and slang your legs over your side of the bed so you could get up. As you did that, and got up afterwards, you, once again, couldn't help but let out another soft groan from the soreness. You still couldn't believe that all of this happened just a few days ago.

You slowly, quietly started to walk out of Damiano's and yours room and down the hallway. You watched your every step, careful as to not wake her up as Damiano probably got her back to sleep. Just when you thought that you had to open the door to the room that was not so far away from your bedroom you met with a wonderful sight.

There he was. Standing in the middle of the room, his back turned to you, facing the window which showed nothing but a complete darkness that the Italian night brought with it when it decided that Sun should be pushed away for a few hours before it was time for it to go back up. Even though his back was facing you, you could see that he was holding something in his arms or rather someone. As you stood frozen by the doorway, you watched as Damiano was slowly rocking her back and forth as he sang something in Italian to her. It was beautiful. It was truly beautiful. But most of all, it was peaceful and you didn't have the heart, you just couldn't bare, to break this peace between a father and a daughter. But you didn't have to. Damiano was first to notice your presence in the room. When you saw that he noticed you, you started to slowly walk up to him as he gave you a little soft smile. You leaned over his shoulder, holding onto him as you looked at the peaceful, sleeping face of your little girl.

"What are you doing up, amore?" He whispered once you joined them. "Did we wake you up?"

"I noticed that your side of the bed was cold and when I opened my eyes I saw that you were gone." You explained as you watched him watch you with beautiful pair of crystals that your daughter stole for herself, too. "I knew that I would find you here after I heard her voice." You told him as you pressed your finger against your daughter's soft cheek as you carefully tried to not wake her up with your action.

"You shouldn't be awake at his hour. Only a few days have passed since you were free to return home from the hospital." He started to ramble, you noticed that he started to speak faster, his Italian accent getting thicker and you couldn't help but smile at him. "You must sit down right now. You must rest." He continued with whispering his worries to you and you could hold back a quiet giggle that escaped your lips.

"Amore, I'm fine. I feel perfectly fine. Still a little sore, sure." You said and you immediately noticed how he shot you a worried look at that once again so you quickly continued to explain. "But I feel fine, Dami. Truly."

"But you would tell me if something was wrong." He gave you a look, never stopping with rocking your asleep daughter back and forth. "Right?"

"Of course I would. I promise." You promised with a smile and he seemed satisfied with your truthful answer.

"Good." He told you, but he still made you sit down on the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

At that moment you realized how lucky you truly were as to have this amazing family. You had a person who loved you unconditionally and would do anything for you just like you would do the same for him. He was your everything and you were his everything. As he shot a quick look and caught your sleeping form in a rocking chair he realized that he couldn't be happier. He had you. You had him. Him and your darling daughter Marlena.

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@opal-rugger

Jealousy Game | Damiano David

Pairing: Damiano David x reader (Måneskin!reader)

Summary: You were ready for a lot of things, but you weren't ready for a woman at the competition you were attending to flirt with your secret boyfriend.

Warning/s: jealously, dark side of the fame (kind of), possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Just as promised here is another Damiano fic, it would have been published a lot earlier, but school is kicking my ass right now. Feel free to send requests and I'll gladly do them!! Enjoy!

You were NOT a jealous person. Even though some think that you do have a reason to be jealous. However, you weren't. It was just in your nature that you don't get jealous easily. You trusted Damiano 100% and nothing was ever going to change that.

But, you did feel like you started to doubt yourself considering the moment you were in right about now.

You were second singer of the bend Måneskin. Which means that you were always sholder to sholder with attractive frontman. At the top of it, your 3 year relationship was a complete secret.

You could still remember your excitement when you found out that you were about to compete in a Eurovision song contest. You and your band mates were so happy you felt like you were about to explode from so much excitement. Damiano and you both knew that you still wanted to keep it private as long as you could, and you both enjoyed it so much. So you didn't mention it in the interviews and in front of the cameras in general. And it truly was great.

You were having fun there. You were doing what you all loved the most, singing and playing songs and performing. You were positive that you had a big chance to maybe actually win this contest. However, it still didn't matter much. I mean sure, it would be awesome if you actually won Eurovision, but even if you don't you felt like it would be okay. Måneskin has come so far and you were extremely proud of what you guys accomplished. You knew that you were good.

But, what you didn't know or expect was one of your fellow contesters to fall in love with your handsome frontman and you knew that you couldn't really blame her. Damiano was sure something. Again, you didn't think of yourself as a very jealous person. Why? Because you did everything to make sure that you are a good girlfriend, a girlfriend Damiano deserves. Damiano did the same thing, too. You just didn't want to feel jealous because you always thought that jealously means that you are insecure about something. Plus, you didn't want to be that kind of a girlfriend and you truly weren't. Presides, Damiano didn't deserve that.

You could say that you just truly didn't expect it. At first, it started out as Sanja saying that Måneskin was her favorite. Then she said that Damiano was her favorite member of the band. Again, nothing wrong about that, nothing to be jealous of, not a thing out of what she said in these moments didn't step over the line. It was funny to you, actually. You were truly fine with it. You were quite happy when she said that you guys were her favorite. It flattered you. You really liked her and her girls, too. You always said that they had a lot of chance to win just like you did.

But then the tables slowly started to turn. Sanja started to constantly literally drool over him. She was constantly throwing compliments at him, but her compliments were not towards the band in general or about Damiano in general. She didn't compliment him in a way when she was saying about how amazing his voice truly was or about how talented he was or how creative he was. No. She was complimenting him about how hot and borderline sexy he looks and how his Italian accent was truly to hot too handle. And that would be fine for a few reasons.

First off, he truly was hot and his voice was too hot to handle, but to you it was more than that. He was a beautiful soul and you appreciated that every day more and more.

Second off, it was okay for her to comment this, but not when it made somebody uncomfortable. Presides, she slowly started to step over the line when she started to compliment his looks in a way that she maybe shouldn't have.

From that point on, she started to comment how she should marry him because she loves him oh so much and that kind of stuff and she was saying that in a live interview. In fact, almost the entire interview with her and the girls contained like 10% about their music, 10% about Eurovision and 80% was just Sanja pinning after Damiano. Presides, you could clearly see how she looks at him during your rehearsals. She looked at him like she was gonna jump on him at any given moment. Also, something new happened a few days after that interview.

You were still trying to catch your breath as you snuggled deeper into the silk sheets that were placed on the bed of Damiano and yours hotel room. Your hair was all messed up, sprawled on the pillow, but you didn't care about that at the moment. Damiano was taking a shower, he left a few minutes ago after you said that you were going to join him in a few minutes. And so, with one more passionate kiss you had to part away. You turned around slowly groaning softly from the sleepiness that was slowly, but surely creeping in. You took your phone in your hand and you went to Instagram.

The first thing you saw was Sanja's new Instagram story. You just couldn't help yourself so you clicked on it. You found yourself face to face with the photo of Damiano and Sanja in a friendly hug. At least it was friendly on Dami's side. On the photo she wrote "Next step" followed by an engagement ring. You truly felt sick in your stomach. You knew that this was just a friendly photo (at least on one part) and another memory, but you couldn't help, but feel this strange feeling creeping in.

You were roughly pulled away from your train of thoughts when you felt the other side of the bed dip from the weight and a strong tattoo covered arms of your beloved wrapping you up in a warm and safe embrace. Somehow, Damiano immediately noticed the change in your behavior.

"Are you okay, amore?" He asked her softly as he learned over her slightly in hope to even catch a glimpse of her face. He didn't succeed.

"I'm fine. Don't worry." Oh what a lier you are. You were anything but fine and Damiano really should be worried.

"Amore, you know that you can't lie to me, right?" He asked you. "I mean, you can, but I will see right through you." You hated to admit it, but in this moment you adored his ability to see through your little white lies. You slowly turned around to face him. He lifted his arm up giving you enough space so you could slowly make yourself comfortable in his hold. After you did so, Damiano softly cherished your breathtaking beauty as he slowly lifted your head up with his thumb so you would finally look at him.

"What's wrong?" And you came crushing down.

"Well, all this time Sanja was pinning after you and I didn't mind it at first. I didn't care about her little compliments about you. But then she started to compliment you in a more heated way and she was practically begging you to marry her already and I just..." You paused for a bit, exhausted about everything. Damiano kept quiet, waiting for you to finish. "I just got a bit jealous, I guess. You know I'm not a jealous type and I didn't want to say anything because I felt like a bad girlfriend and you don't deserve that."

You felt a few tears fun down your cheeks as you spilled your thoughts and your heart and your soul to the man you loved the most. Damiano was borderline shocked and both of you were quite for a bit. Finally he spoke up as he brushed away your tears.

"You are my everything, amore. You are my inspiration, you are my muse. You are my motive for everything I do and you are my heart and my soul and my whole being. You are my life." He confessed quietly, whispering away in the darkness of your shared hotel room.

"You are a fire in my heart and a fresh breath of air for my lungs. You are more addictive then the hardest drugs. But most importantly, you are my one and only greatest love. And yes, she was crossing a line with that one, I was honestly getting uncomfortable, too. So no. You are NOT a bad girlfriend."

For the rest of the evening you were just enjoying each other in many different ways. At that moment, for the rest of your life, you were reassured that he was your only one and to him you were the only one, too.

"I love you more than the life itself and nobody is ever going to change that."

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@opal-rugger

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Torna a casa | Thomas Raggi

Pairing: Thomas Raggi x reader

Summary: Song that was promised to his one and only that he met on a lonely day in park in Italy.

Warning/s: smoking and heartbreak, possible grammar and spelling mistakes (English is my second language, I'm sorry)

Author's note: as promised, here is the one for our favorite boy

(E/C) - eye color

(H/C) - hair color

Cammino per la mia città ed il vento soffia forte

Mi son lasciato tutto indietro e il Sole all'orizzonte

Vedo le case, da lontano, hanno chiuso le porte

Ma per fortuna ho la sua mano e le sue guance rosse

Lei mi ha raccolto da per terra coperto di spine

Coi morsi di mille serpenti, fermo per le spire

Non ha ascoltato quei bastardi e il loro maledire

Con uno sguardo mi ha convinto a prendere e partire

Che questo è un viaggio che nessuno prima d'ora ha fatto

Alice, le sue meraviglie e il Cappellaio Matto

Cammineremo per 'sta strada e non sarò mai stanco

Fino a che il tempo porterà sui tuoi capelli il bianco

Che mi è rimasto un foglio in mano e mezza sigaretta

Restiamo un po' di tempo ancora, tanto non c'è fretta

Che c'ho una frase scritta in testa ma non l'ho mai detta

Perché la vita, senza te, non può essere perfetta

It was silly, truly. How the two of you met.

You were still not quite used to Italy considering the fact that you moved there after just a few months. You were supposed to move for quite a short time anyways. One of your parents got a new job there for a year. After that year was up you were supposed to move back to your home country. You were walking along the park not far away from your new collage. It was fine, you were supposed to graduate this year.

Thomas was peacefully sitting on one of the benches, in the said park, as he played beautiful music with his guitar. It was truly peaceful. For now. The moment his eyes landed on you he knew that you were about to burn his normal days down. He continued to play, but he really wasn't focusing as much on his hand as he was before he saw you. Thomas quietly watched as you continued to walk around. Your school bag was slang over your shoulders, a bag that seemed to heavy now. Your eyeliner was slightly smudged under your hypnotic (E/C) eyes, but that was last of your worries. Thomas watched as your (H/C) hair was flying, somehow perfectly, behind your back. Your lips were so red that the darkest blood should be jealous.

You finally looked to your right and sat down on a wooden bench a few meters away from where Thomas was sitting still mindlessly playing some notes on his guitar. You took the bag off of your shoulder and ran your hands through your hair before you let out a small, quiet sigh. You learned against the bench and finally let yourself enjoy the slight spring breeze. God knows you deserved it. Thomas finally forced himself to look away from you. He was aware that your eyes were closed, but he was still afraid that you would somehow catch him staring at you and that you would walk away. So, instead of staring, he leaned his head down and continued to play.

As he began to play again, you felt yourself open your eyes. You looked around trying to locate where the music was coming from and after a while you finally found the sorce of it. You felt like your eyes were glued to Thomas the second that you saw him. His golden hair was falling slightly in front of his face as he was still struggling to find the right tone that was set in his magnificent mind. His gorgeous eyes were barely able to be seen, but you caught a glimpse of them and felt your breath leave your lungs before you could do anything to stop it from happening. You watched as his hands gripped the guitar's neck so tightly that his knuckles turned purely white. You saw the way his eyebrows frowned on his face as he tried to keep focus. You continued to curiously watch him try to find the right melodies for a while before he let the guitar go. He got himself a cigarette and lit it up. You could see some frustration as he lit the cigarette up, closing his gorgeous eyes in the process.

"It's not going very well, is it?" You asked him, smiling at him curiously. He lifted his head up in surprise and you swore that your heat stopped beating when his eyes tored into yours.

"It really isn't." Thomas laughed, nervously. He didn't expect you to speak to him. He thought that you wouldn't even notice him. He saw that you were in your own little world as he watched you sit down on that bench. He figured that you are too tired from school, at least you looked like you were, so he decided not to bother you. Besides, he didn't feel like he had courage to do so anyway.

"It's a shame, really." You gave him another smile as your eyes continued to linger on his handsome face. "I can tell that you are brilliant with the guitar, I just know it." You continued to spit compliments at him and he would like if he didn't feel himself get hot in his cheek area.

"Thank you." He shyly thanked you. "I just can't find any inspiration, seems like."

"Well you know what?" You spoke up again. "I'm new here in Italy. How about you play my tourist guide for a day and maybe you get some inspiration."

That's how it all started.

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che il freddo qua si fa sentire

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che non voglio più aspettare

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che il freddo qua si fa sentire

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che ho paura di sparire

Thomas enjoyed what was happening very much so. He continued to show you around Rome and he got to practice his English with you, because that was practically the only way for him to speak with you. As the two of you started to wonder the magnificent streets, you got to know each other better. Thomas told you that he's in a band with a girl named Victoria, and two guys Damiano and Ethan. He was the bands guitarist and he is currently working on a new song. You found that very interesting and exciting. Thomas found out that you moved here because of your parent's new temporary job and you go to college here, too. That news saddened him.

You weren't going to stay here for more than a year. You both knew that you guys just met, but there was something between you two. You felt it in the depth of your souls. You just knew that whatever was going on between the two of you, was something special. Something that, sadly, not a lot of people have. After that day, Thomas and you continued to go on relaxing walks through the random streets of Rome. You both enjoyed the sun on your skin and the slight breeze in your hair.

Anyone who walked on the same streets as you did could notice just how much in love the two of you were. Holding hands felt so natural that neither of you remember when exactly did you start doing it. Whenever Thomas arrived first for your walks he would hold his hand out for you to take and you did. It truly felt natural. Two people holding hands, laughing and smoking in the middle of the streets.

After a month, Thomas introduced you to Damiano, Victoria and Ethan. It was safe to say that they became like your family once they learned how good you are to Thomas. But they both knew what was coming. You leaving in a few months was unavoidable, it seems like. But neither Thomas nor you wanted to think about it just yet. You both just wanted to enjoy the other before the time runs out. And before you had to leave Italy. Thomas just wanted to stop time, to live in this moment until the end of times, maybe even longer. He didn't want to even imagine what it would be like. To not wait for your college classes to be over so the two of you could stroll around the lonely streets of Rome. To not feel the softness of your hand, of your blood-red lips. To not see your breathing smile. To not hear your melodic voice speaking the funniest jokes he has ever heard in his whole world. He was willing to give you his heart. He didn't care what you would do with hit. He didn't care if you broke it to billions of pieces and stepped on it or if you would cherish it like it was made out of the most fragile glass ever known to mankind. His heart didn't belong to him anymore. It belonged to you. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Yet he knew very well what was going to happen. He didn't care. Thomas knew that he would kill thousands if he had to, just so he could see you smile at him like you did since he met you. He had it bad. He knew that, but he also knew that nothing can prepare nor prevent the heartbreak that was coming for him.

E il cielo piano piano qua diventa trasparente

Il Sole illumina le debolezze della gente

Una lacrima salata bagna la mia guancia mentre

Lei con la mano mi accarezza in viso dolcemente

Col sangue sulle mani scalerò tutte le vette

Voglio arrivare dove l'occhio umano si interrompe

Per imparare a perdonare tutte le mie colpe

Perché anche gli angeli, a volte, han paura della morte

Che mi è rimasto un foglio in mano e mezza sigaretta

Corriamo via da chi c'ha troppa sete di vendetta

Da questa Terra ferma perché ormai la sento stretta

Ieri ero quiete perché oggi sarò la tempesta

Unfortunately, Thomas wasn't a God. He didn't have power to stop time. Even if it was just to be with you. He was powerless at this moment and he hated it with burning passion.

As he watched you pack the last of your belongings in a suitcase he realized just how much he hated his luck, how much he hated this fate, how much he hated his life. He realized how much he hated himself for being so powerless at this moment as he wasn't able to do anything to stop this from happening.

"That's the last of it." You finally broke the everlasting silence that was practically choking the walls of your room.

Thomas kept quiet and you finally looked at him. You saw glistening water sparkling in his eyes that met yours. It took you just about five seconds before you broke down in each other's embrace. You felt his arms gripping onto you like you are going to dissappear from his arms, but in reality, Thomas was afraid that if he let's you go he is going to dissappear out of sorrow. You buried your face in the neck of his shirt as you realized that your tears were leaving the wet stain on it. Not that you cared about that fact. You only cared about the fact that you were going to leave his comforting and warm embrace and that you were also powerless to stop it from happening. After the two of you calmed down a bit, or at least as much as your mutual heartbreak let you, Thomas spoke up first.

"I don't want you to leave." He told you for the billionth time today and you felt yourself break all over again from the pain in his voice.

"I don't want to leave either." You continued to endlessly sob. "But I have no choice and it's killing me."

Suddenly, Thomas gently grabbed your face. He was treating you like the most fragile glass, like the wind that he can't get the hold of, like the sweetest coincidence that was slowly destroying him inside out.

"I finished my song." Thomas tried to give you a smile. But it turned into a sad grimace. Not that you blamed him in any way. "The melody and everything. It's finally finished."

"It is?" You gave him a watery laugh through your sobs as you wiped his face clean from his own tears.

"Yes. I did." He confirmed to you. "I wrote it about you."

"You what?" You were shocked to say the least. He wrote a song. About you.

"You are my muse, amore. You are my only inspiration."

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che il freddo qua si fa sentire

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che non voglio più aspettare

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che il freddo qua si fa sentire

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che non voglio più

Prima di te ero solo un pazzo, ora lascia che ti racconti

Avevo una giacca sgualcita e portavo tagli sui polsi

Oggi mi sento benedetto e non trovo niente da aggiungere

Questa città si affaccerà quando ci vedrà giungere

Ero in bilico tra l'essere vittima, essere giudice

Era un brivido che porta la luce dentro le tenebre

E ti libera da queste catene splendenti, lucide

Ed il dubbio o no, se fossero morti oppure rinascite

The weather was cloudy. It was dark and everything smelled like it was going to rain at every moment. Thomas felt like that was mocking him. Truly. He shifted his eyes away from the sky back to your eyes. They were prettier, anyways.

"So this is it I guess. Isn't it?" He felt himself say it without even realizing it. He watches your eyes fill with tears, mirroring his own, and he watched your lips trying to give him a smile.

"I'm afraid that it is, Tom." You said and he felt like someone just killed his entire world. But nobody did. You were standing in front of him, thankfully safe. "I swear to God Tom, I will kick your ass if you don't send me the recording of the song you wrote." He found himself laughing with you like a mad person in front of the airport even though he felt like he wanted to scream, cry and tear everything apart.

"I will, amore mio. I will. I promise." Your flight was once again announced and you knew that you had to go. Without another word you kissed him passionately. You leaned your foreheads against each other and stood like that for a few moments, your eyes still closed.

"Ti amo, Thomas."

"Ti amo, l (Y/N)."

And with that you tured around and left to catch your plane, your suitcase stumbling behind you. Thomas kept standing in the same spot until your plane left his eyesight. Once you were truly gone, far up in the sky he turned around to leave the airport. As he walked away he felt himself whispering "Marlena, torna a casa".

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che il freddo qua si fa sentire

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che non voglio più aspettare

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che il freddo qua si fa sentire

Quindi Marlena torna a casa, che non voglio più sparire

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@randomgurl2326 @opal-rugger

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Måneskin Masterlist

✭ - smut

♡ - fluff

➳ - angst

۵ - hurt/comfort

°

Damiano David

If Not For You - As Damiano goes away on the tour with his band mates he has to deal with leaving his home behind. You. [۵♡]

Timezone - As Damiano and you are forced to be apart, you both slowly start to feel like you're loosing your mind. [۵♡]

Jealousy Game - You were ready for a lot of things, but you weren't ready for a woman at the competition you were attending to flirt with your secret boyfriend. [۵♡]

Papà - You woke up in the middle of the night just so that you realize that Damiano is not with you, but don't worry. You know where to find him. [♡]

Three Makes a Group - After bringing up the idea of group sex to your boyfriend Ethan, you have to deal with the consequences of your dirty mind. [✭]

How It's Supposed To Look Like - After being abused by your ex, you finally tell Damiano what happened and he shows you how the loving relationship should really be like. [➳۵♡✭]

Only Angel - You were in love with him for a very long time, but you didn't know that he loved you back. Until he decided to do something about it. [♡✭➳]

Thomas Raggi

Torna A Casa - Song that was promised to his one and only that he met on a lonely day in park in Italy. [➳۵]

Ethan Torchio

Three Makes a Group - After bringing up the idea of group sex to your boyfriend Ethan, you have to deal with the consequences of your dirty mind. [✭♡]

Timezone | Damiano David

Pairing: Damiano David x female!reader

Summary: As Damiano and you are forced to be apart, you both slowly start to feel like you're loosing your mind.

Warning/s: Language (maybe like one curse word that is repeated two to three times), mention of smut (but not explicit), Google translate

Author's note: Here is another Damiano song imagine I hope you like it. I might make one with Thomas Raggi very soon 🤫

You're wearing my old clothes, but you, you wear it better

And every time I sew your face, the moon should be jealous

And I keep talking to the wall 'til he's a friend of mine

I call you every hour just to tell you that I'm loosing my mind

Now I know you're sleeping

Where I'm supposed to be in

Wish I could've stayed

Damiano has had enough. The fame felt too much and the videocalls, phone calls and messages weren't enough anymore. He was practically pulling his hair out as he continued to mindlessly walk around his hotel room. His completely empty hotel room. He looked at his perfectly made bed and at his perfectly sorted out clothes in the closet and Damiano was finally, officially done. He couldn't take this torture anymore.

He strolled mindlessly to the big window of his hotel room as his eyes roamed around the busy streets of LA. People were rushing everywhere and Damiano realized that they were completely obvious to his suffering. He thought it was unfair.

He roughly ripped the cigarette out of the back pocket of his jeans. As he went to light up the cigarette it begin to accur to him that sun was still shining brightly in the middle of the sky. He realized that the moon must be keeping company to his beloved. Not that you were probably enjoying the darkness that the moon swept in, he thought. You must be still deep in your sleep considering the fact that it was probably middle of the night where you were right now. As Damiano opened the window and stepped onto the balcony he let himself enjoy the bright rays of sunshine on his bare back. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and looked towards the sun. It was shining so bright that Damiano was pretty sure that it was mocking him. He knew that it was mocking him. The sun was pure reflection of his life right now. It was shining on him so brightly, but it also reminded him that you are not in the same position as he is right now. He was covered in sunshine yet you were bathing in moonlight. It wasn't fair.

With a sigh, he threw away the cigarette and returned to the room closing the window behind him. Empty room remained him not only of you, but also that his band mates were out right now. Damiano was pretty sure that they went out partly because of his constant whining about not being able to do more that to just see your gorgeous face over FaceTime. It wasn't his fault that he was whining about it constantly, he thought. Those calls were sometimes quite impractical, anyways. For one, he couldn't touch you. He could only watch your beauty from far away. He couldn't smell your sweet scent. Your shampoo. Your perfume that he sometimes liked to steel away just so that he could smell like you (it was fine you did it with his perfume, too). He knew that Vic, Thomas and Ethan were practically sick of him now because he was talking so much about you. Ethan thought that he looked like a tortured puppy whenever Damiano mentioned how much he misses you. You were talking to everyone on the band, too and Ethan knew that you were like that, too.

In fact, everyone got so worried for you two because as time went by and you two spend much more time away from one another it looked like you both started to not take as much care for your well-beings as you did before. Everyone saw how much this long distance affected both Damiano and you. Thomas barely stopped Vic from buying Damiano tickets back to Italy (you moved there with him) one hour before the show so he could see you.

Damiano was done. But he couldn't help himself. He just kept calling you when the moon is shining in LA, when some people were asleep like dead and some people were partying until they die. He just wanted to hear your voice yet he knew that everytime he calls you, you can hear desperation in his rough voice. Damiano was very well aware that he was slowly loosing his mind. Especially when it was night where you were and you were deep in your sleep. He didn't want to disturb you, so he somehow managed to gain some self control and not call you then. It was all right, though. You were loosing your mind, too.

He took one more look at his perfectly made up bed and knew what was missing.

If you two weren't apart, you would be sprawled out on the bed, bare back facing the door, hair messed up, face pressing into the pillows, deep in sleep after the passionate activities that him and you took part in the night before. His whole hotel room was mocking him. He knew that very well. All this torture... it took everything in his willpower to not run to the airport and never let you go from his arms.

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

So fuck that I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

"So how is the tour going?" Your slightly raspy voice asked him.

It was an early morning in Italy and you just woke up from your slumber. In fact, you were still in bed. On the other hand, Damiano has been awake for hours. It was still dark outside and he put his laptop outside on the balcony on the fresh LA air. God knows he needs it.

"It's good." Damiano told you. "It's good..." He repeated slowly as he finally blew out another little cloud of smoke from yet another cigarette.

The way he repeated his answer seemed like he was just trying to convince himself that everything was perfect, that everything was just the way he imagined it to be. But you knew better. You knew he was hiding something and you were pretty sure that you could guess what it was.

"What is wrong, amore?" You asked him and for a moment, when Damiano looked back from the night sky to the screen, he felt himself freeze.

He knows that you are beautiful, but the way that you smiled sadly at him and the way that one piece of your hair fell in front of your eyes, he was once again hit with the feeling of loneliness. It painted him greatly because even though he can se your breathing smile and hear your melodic voice, it wasn't the same. You weren't really there with him. For a bare moment he didn't say anything, you figured that that would happen. So you went on.

"I know when something is wrong." You told him and he started to deeply stare in your eyes, you felt like he was staring into your soul. It was truly curious considering the fact that you had a videocall. "Your eyes start to drop in a certain way. They get more serious." You continued, your voice softening with every word you said and he noticed that. He always does. Just like you always do, too.

"The tour is going amazing. Vic, Tom and Ethan are amazing like always. But you know what is wrong." Damiano took another hit from the cigarette and quickly blew another cloud of smoke out of his mouth. He started to smoke more. You noticed that fact after your 50th call this week. He started to smoke more then he usually does and you could partly guess why.

"You're right. I do know." You sighed as you rubbed your hands over your face. In return, he turned his concerned eyes back to you. "It's killing me, too. I feel like I can't do it anymore either." You admitted to him. He let his hand run through this hair as he put out the cigarette with his other hand. You could just watch how he smashed it in the ashtray angrily.

"I miss you so much it hurts." Damiano heard himself admit this to you for like the millionth time today. "I just want you to be back in my arms. I can't fucking do this anymore. I don't want to."

"Me neither."

Tomorrow I got another plane, I'm not gonna take it

Instead, I'm gonna fly straight to you, I'll pay double for the tickets

And I don't give a shit about the contracts that I signed

And they can say whatever, we'll be making love, I'm fucking you tonight

Now I know you're sleeping

Where I'm supposed to be in

Wish I could've stayed

Victoria, Thomas and Ethan watched Damiano with great concern as he continued to practically pull his hair out. Their manager just told them that they have to stay in LA for one more month. Not one more day. Not one more week. One more MONTH. Måneskin was supposed to leave in three days back to Italy, but the plan changed. This news added the fuel to the fire that was already actively burning. And that was enough for Damiano finally explode. The rest of the band barely stopped Damiano from nearly ripping the manager's head right of off his shoulders. Don't get him wrong. Damiano loved this tour and he loves his band more than anything. But he was supposed to finally go back in your arms and he was pretty sure that he never wanted to leave them, but his plans and hopes were now officially crushed, burned to the ground.

"Questo è tutto! Me ne sto andando! Non mi interessa nemmeno più questo. Voglio solo vederla per almeno un giorno." ["That's it! I'm leaving! I don't even care about this anymore. I just want to see her for at least a day."] He yelled out and Vic jumped up to her feet before she gave him a bone crushing hug. "Non posso più farlo, cazzo." ["I can't fucking do this anymore."] Damiano whispered as he gripped on Vic's hair. Victoria let her hand run down his back as she hugged him tightly. It painted her to see one of her best friends in this state. Suddenly, she let go of her, gripped Damiano's shoulders as she started to yell, too.

"Che cazzo stai aspettando?! Vai a trovarla per un giorno e dille che ci siamo salutati!" ["What the fuck are you waiting for?! Go and see her for a day and tell her that we said hello!"] Damiano looked at her in shock as Thomas and Ethan joined them, nodding.

"Sì! Amico, smettila di deprimerti e vai dalla tua signora." ["Yeah! Dude, stop moping around and go see your lady."] Thomas said. Thomas' confirmation along with Victoria's and Ethan's nodding was enough for Damiano to turn the entire hotel room upside down.

He pulled out his suitcase out of nowhere and started to pack. He was moving so fast and so much that the rest of the band thought that he's going to give them a headache. The point is, he didn't care what he put in in his suitcase. He packed just a few essential stuff, anyways. His mind was already with her, back in Italy, and it was the only thing that was important to him. It was safe to say that he was in and out before anyone could say anything else. And so, with one group hug and quickly exchanged "good bye"s and "have a safe flight"s, Damiano was off.

Practically running down the hall so he could get to the elevator and out of the hotel. He ran out on the busy street of LA and somehow managed to get a cab very quickly. He was extremely excited and kind of nervous. Damiano figured that he simply couldn't wait to get to the airport. The moment that the cab stopped, Damiano practically threw the cash at the driver and ran inside the airport, his suitcase stumbling behind him. Once he finally got into his flight he slumped down on his seat. He just couldn't wait do be home. And the waiting really paid off.

Damiano felt like his heart was going to burst its way out of his chest as he took a look at the building of your shared apartment. The flight was too long and he was just happy to be back. He knocked on the door after he went up the stairs and he was suddenly face to face with your sleepy eyes and your bright smile when you saw who was knocking on the door. Before any of you could get a word out you brought one another into a bone crushing hug. You started to cry in each other's embrace. You missed the way his arms were wrapped around you, you missed the way he always sounded so breathless when he joyfully laughed, you missed the way his eyes were shining, you missed him. He missed the way you smelled like the sweetest candy the way your eyes stared deep into his soul, he missed the feeling of your skin, he missed the beating of your heart. He missed you, too.

"You're home." You let out a soft sob as you hid your face in his shoulder, gripping on him tightly. You felt his arms tighten around you, too afraid to let you go, too afraid that either of you is going to dissappear.

"I am home. At last."

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If Not For You | Damiano David

Pairing: Damiano David x reader

Summary: As Damiano goes away on the tour with his band mates he has to deal with leaving his home behind. You.

Warning/s: random couple making out, alcohol and that's about it.

Author's note: So English isn't my first language so I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes (I'm really trying). Also, I don't know Italian so if I wrote anything wrong Google translate is taking the blame. Enjoy!

(Y/E/C) - your eye color

"There'll be no summer

There'll be no spring

If not for this love of mine

Thrones without flowers

Bars with no drinks

If not for this love of mine

All this lights

All the parties would just fade out

Shut them down"

It was truly tortures. He was in LA, all alone. At least it felt like that. Snooping around the bars, in the middle of the night. Bars that were literally at every corner of the dark street he was walking on. Vic, Thomas and Ethan were off somewhere else. At some "dumb" party Damiano didn't bother to attend. It was a waste of time anyway. Not that he had a better way to waste it, anyhow.

It sickened him. Truly. Couples were holding hands everywhere. Whispering quietly to each other's ears and laughing at something that seemed like it was the funniest thing in the whole universe. Maybe it was. But he couldn't be bothered at the moment. Some guy and his girlfriend were making out in the middle of the dance floor in the middle of some random bar he walked in. He felt disgusted. Or at least he thought he was.

He walked up to the bartender, ordered a beer and walked off to the corner of the bar. He pushed through the dancing, yelling and laughing crowd so he could finally sit down at the empty table. Damiano sat down with a sigh. He was drowning his beer in silence. The party around him was wild, full of life and youth. He knew that he shouldn't be slouching like someone had died. But he knew that he couldn't help himself. He felt alone. On the band tour, on the parties, even in this bar as he looked at all the people dancing, being drunk and probably high, he felt alone.

Damiano pulled out his phone as he searched for your contact. It was an early morning in the country where you were. He thought that you must still be asleep. Perhaps he should be doing the same. But he didn't. Instead of sleeping in now empty hotel room, he wondered into some lousy LA party drinking his sorrows away. Even though he really doesn't even enjoy alcohol. But he didn't care about that at the moment. He just wanted to be back home. Back in Italy. Back with you at least if he couldn't be home. But you were his home. And he missed you. He wondered if you liked the flowers he send you. He wondered if you even got them yet. Suddenly, Damiano got up. Not caring about the party or the beer, not that he did before. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the couple that he bumped into on his way out of the bar. He couldn't be bothered that the guy was angrily yelling at him to watch up. No. All he cared about was calling you. And so he did.

"If not for you, I wouldn't sing anymore

(Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, ta-ta, da-ba-ra-ba-ra)

If not for you, I couldn't get off this floor

(Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, ta-pa)

If not for you, hell would be knockin' on my door

If not for you"

There were the moments when he felt like all of that fame was too much. Moments when he wondered if he should be doing this. Moments when he wondered was he even good enough for this. Moments when he wondered did he deserve all of the thing and people he has now. There were moments when he felt like breaking down. It was just before the tour. He was in the (Y/N)'s and his apartment alone. Or at least he thought that he was alone. Damiano was sitting on their bed. He hid his face in his head, gripping his hair. He felt a strong burning sensation in his eyes. He didn't let go. He thought that he shouldn't, that it's not worth it. He missed the sound of the door of the apartment opening, he missed his name being called out softly over and over again. Like a broken record player.

"Damiano." he lifted his head then. There she was. Holding the keys of the car in left hand and an empty luggage in her right hand. It belonged to him. He was supposed to be packing the last suitcase, but he wasn't. He left it in the middle of the hallway. He knew (Y/N) must have stumbled upon it and she brought it here. He couldn't keep his tears in anymore when he saw her slowly walking up to him. He smashed into her, pulling her against him tightly. He slipped his hand under his her shirt as he felt the warmth of her skin and smelled the sweetness of her perfume. It was almost like, if he had loosened his grip even a little bit, she would disappear. He knew he will have enough time to miss her for 2 months. He needed this comfort. He needed her in his arms for a little while longer because he knew that neither of them could know when they will see each other.

"Are you okay, amante [lover]." you asked him softly as both of you slowly lowered onto the cold floor. You felt him falling down so you went with him. You felt like that too, anyways. You were running your hands through his hair as you reasted your head on top of his. It was almost if he was squishing the life out of you, but you didn't care. He learned his head against your chest, focusing on your heartbeat.

"You know, if it wasn't for you I wouldn't sing anymore." he said and for a moment he left you speechless. You were about to say something when he interrupted you. You let him. "You are the reason I am here today. You are the reason I didn't give up. You are my motive, my inspiration for everything I do. Sei la mia musa [You are my muse]. Sei la mia ispirazione [You are my inspiration]."

As Damiano continued to clutch you to him, he felt something wet streaming down his hairline. He knew very well what it was. He was doing it, too.

"No more Nirvana

No Billy Jean

No dancin' if you were gone

How could I wake up

How could I sleep

How could I be someone

All those crowds

All the music would just fade out

Not a sound"

Damiano was gripping that microphone for his dear life, it seems like. He felt his throat being sore, but adrenaline was at its highest peek so it was all right. He could see in the corner of his eyes Vic and Thomas playing along with his singing. Ethan was also jamming away with his drums. The crowd in front of him was screaming, dancing, laughing, they were having fun. The band did to. You could fill the high spirit. But you could also feel that something was missing. Or rather someone. Damiano felt it deep in his being. Everyone was here. But there wasn't one person that should be. You. His eyes scanned the crowd. His wild, dark eyes searching in hope of finding your (Y/E/C) ones. He hoped, even though he felt like he shouldn't, that you would somehow be here. Even though you were thousands of miles away, he hoped that you would be there. He hoped that some miracle happened and that his lover would have her schedule cleared so she could come. Damiano hoped, even if you don't come to him, that you ate, drank. That you are taking care of yourself. He hoped with his whole being that you are alright and that he will see you again very soon. Otherwise, he might just come and get you himself.

Just as Damiano finished singing the last chords of their song his eyes unexpectedly found ones he missed so much. At that moment he felt like he was whole again. That the missing part of his sould was glued back to him again. And it was.

There you stood. Practically in front of Vic who was playing in front of the left side of the stage. You were standing next to Leo, looking at him. He felt like he was all alone there with you. Damiano felt like he was dreaming. But he wasn't. You were there. Just like he asked you when he called you three days ago. You were there, looking and smiling at him. Singing along with him. He knew that he was home at last.

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And just when I thought that my obsession with him was finally over 😫 I love this so much!

Lipstick Kisses

Pairing: Thomas x Reader Wordcount: 5k Summary: Thomas develops an obsession with lipstick after someone tells him he shouldn’t wear it. Any kind of lipstick. Warning(s): Smut, some shibari, some bunny <3, mentioned past humiliation, pegging, some d/s dynamics, nipple clamps, sub Thomas

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist

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"Are you okay?" Thomas asks, hand on your cheek. 

You nod, but Thomas looks at you. Nothing is okay at the moment, everything is way too much and everything at once. There's no need to lie to him. There's also no chance to really do that, he always sees right through you, and right now, you can see in his face that he doesn't believe you. Thomas' gaze is soft, and you shake your head.

"It's okay." He wraps his arms around you, kisses your forehead. He's soft, not the joker he was mere seconds before when he danced around your kitchen just in his underwear, open bottle of wine in one of his hands, pulling faces and singing off tune on purpose loudly. "It's going to get better again, I believe in you."

He kisses your cheeks as well, then the tip of your nose before he kisses your lips. You're hanging onto him like he's saving you from drowning. Some of the dark bordeaux lipstick you were wearing all day, sticks to his lips and then leaves a faint mark when you kiss his cheek. You laugh, before you try to wipe it away.

"Sorry."

Thomas just laughs and kisses you again. Deeper this time, for longer, more lipstick left behind on his lips. Enough to see the contrast against his skin. Again he kisses your forehead, leaves a lipstick mark of his own. In his eyes you can see a glimmer of wonder and surprise.

"Oh, it sticks."

"Of course it sticks," you laugh again, "You know that, silly boy. Or how do you think it got onto your lips?"

"Because I kissed you."

A pleased sigh escapes him when you kiss his throat, leaving a dark lipstick stain behind. He kisses you again, more bordeaux lipstick sticking to his lips.

"It looks so good on you."

"Really?" He looks at you surprised.

"Yes, really." You get your phone and open the camera app. "Dark lipstick is made for you."

He looks at himself in the reflection, tilts his head from side to side: "You really think so?"

It's not like he looks uncomfortable, he just looks unsure. You leave him alone with your phone and wonder if you will find a selfie or two later. He's still looking at himself when you come back with the lipstick in hand. 

"Let me show you."

Thomas pouts at you after you carefully applied the lipstick to his lips. 

"Brou de Noix," he reads from the bottom of the lipstick tube - butchering the French a little bit. "You really think this looks good on me?"

"Thom," you take a photo of him and give your phone to him, "Why do you think you don't? Who told you this?"

He sighs but this time he sounds frustrated: "One of our latest make-up artists, she said I'm too pale for anything too adventurous."

"They are talking shit, you look incredible."

There's a red stain on his teeth when he bites his lips, you reach out for his cheek and get the colour of with your thumb. Thomas pulls a face at you.

"It sticks, I thought we established that much." You smile at him. "That means it also sticks to your teeth."

You peck his lips, only for a few seconds but he grins at you and holds you in place, close to him.

"And now you're kissing it off of me, because I look so irresistible?"

"Yes, I'll completely kiss it off you." 

He smiles when you kiss the corner of his lips. 

.#####.

It happens more often, it’s a slow progress of Thomas getting more comfortable with that pop of colour on his lips. First it’s colours you almost can’t see on his lips, inconspicuous, a little pink, a bit of nude here and there. Sometimes you only notice when he kisses your cheek, looks at you for a moment too long and you will have to rub some lipstick off your face.

Gradually he’s getting adventurous. One of your dark red lipsticks is missing first, you’re looking for it everywhere one night when you’re going out. Only weeks later it turns up again - you find it in Thomas’ suitcase buried under some shirts.

Then there’s a wonderful plum colour you have had your eyes set on for quite some time but you never dared to pay more than a certain amount for any makeup and this certainly was over your budget. Until one day Thomas gives you a small box with the plum coloured lipstick inside. It looks marvellous on you, your friends tell you so, Thomas tells you so and you can see it yourself. But when you catch Thomas in the bathroom one evening, you can just think stunning and stare at him. He tries to hide the lipstick in the sink behind him whilst rubbing it off his lips. 

“Please don’t,” you say. “It looks amazing on you, Thomas.” 

“You think so?”

“Yes,” you smile at him, “I already said that last time. You look stupendous, too good to be real.”

.#####.

The next time, he isn’t hiding it. One evening he just sits down next to you on the couch, colour on his lips that looks like he just drank a glass of red wine but didn’t lick his lips afterwards.

“So beautiful.”

He smiles at you before he puts his head in your lap and you can play with his hair, twirl strands of his blond hair around your fingers, comb them slowly through his hair. You see how he bites his red lips and how he closes his eyes. He presses his lips to the skin on your thigh where the fabric of your pyjama shorts end.

“You have a favourite yet?”

You can feel how he shakes his head: “No, I only tried about four but I really like this one.”

Thomas looks up at you confused when you get up but when you come back with your makeup bag that holds all your lipsticks and makeup wipes his eyes grow wider.

“Then let's try some more,” you smile at him. He sits up which gives you the opportunity to straddle and sit on top of him. A tiny whimper escaping the back of his throat, always so sensitive to your every touch. “Pick whichever you like.”

His hands shake slightly when he picks up your bag full of treasures and opens it. The little sigh leaving his lips doesn’t slip your attention. Overtaken by something almost like greed he rummages through it. 

“There are so many shades,” he looks at you, “Oh, dark red. Brick red ... plum. Oh, this has a funny name, Tea and Cookies. Pink, more red. Oh, wait, what the fuck, is this blue!?”

“Yes, that’s blue. I have some green as well.” Thomas raises his eyebrow at you and you laugh. “Halloween is a thing that happens.”

“I want to try the green.”

You look for the label that says Serpentina. A dark shimmery green you know will look lovely on Thomas’ lips. Stark contrast to his skin and the light blush around his cheeks and his nose. He squirms under you when you do his lips and his eyelids are fluttering when you take a photo on your phone to show him. 

“I look … good?” He looks at you questioningly. 

“Insanely good.”

He kisses your throat. It doesn’t leave a mark on you, doesn’t stick, and he looks at you confused. 

“It’s smudge proof,” he pouts at you - looking at you like you betrayed him out of a reward he was craving, “And kissproof.” 

“That’s not fair,” he says but doesn’t elaborate when you take a make-up wipe to get the lipstick off.

The next one is a berry shade that you also deem gorgeous on Thomas. Even he marvels over it when he sees himself on your phone camera. He’s rewarded with more satisfaction than before when he presses his lips to your throat again, the lipstick sticking to your skin. It does stick but not enough for his taste. 

There’s the darkest shade of plum next, it’s matte. It’s so dark that he laughs when you show him: “I’m too much of a loaf of toast for this one but I love how it feels and this … matte thing?”

“I think, I have the perfect one for you,” you dig into your bag again until you find the brick red matte lipstick Thomas looked at earlier, “I wanted to test if this one is smudge proof.”

It isn’t, you know. It’s the reason why you bought it in the first place - for it to smudge. Stain Thomas’ sweaty sticky skin. To leave marks on your own skin, colour transferring from Thomas’ lips to yours. After you’re done with the lipstick, Thomas bites his lips, the red sticking to his teeth. Carefully you wipe it off his teeth with your thumb. Instead of going for your throat, he pulls up your pyjama shirt. He leaves a lipstick mark around your nipple and looks at it in awe.

“I want to tie you up,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “And leave all those marks over you, so I can see every kiss I left on you when I’m done.”

Thomas puts his hands in front of him, looks at you expectantly: “Please.”

“Here?” you smile at him. “Kitchen table, bed or floor?”

You can see how he tries to find an answer, slightly whimpers when you stroke your fingers over his hip bone. 

“Bed.”

You take your make-up bag and then take his hand to lead him to the bedroom. It doesn’t take much to push him into the sheets, his fingers getting tangled in them.

“Cuffs or rope, bunny?” 

“R-rope.” You can see how he swallows heavily. “Please.”

The berry colour of the restraints in your hands reminds you of the colour Thomas had on his lips earlier but you’re digging deeper, getting the mint green rope. The rope lands next to Thomas on the bed, he plays with it, while you look for the scarlet red lipstick. 

“You’re allowed to get naked, Thomas.” 

He only blinks at you and you put the lipstick aside. It isn’t much to get him out of, you pull the old band shirt over his head when he raises his arms and then you pull down his joggers, there’s no underwear to get rid off and he whimpers into your ear quietly.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Get on your tummy.”

He almost stumbles over himself, almost gets caught in the sheets, before he turns around. You laugh, but it’s lovingly, not condescending. 

“Are you excited?” You take the rope from his hand. 

He nods into the pillow, his cheeks almost as scarlet as your lipstick pick. A quiet sigh falls from his lips when you take one of his hands and tie the rope around his wrist twice, there’s enough room for two fingers you can wiggle under the rope. Then you cross the rope over the ends you just worked on, reach under the bind to make a loop and pull the rope through it, Thomas is still happily sighing. You create another loop and pull again, before you take the end and tie him to the bed. 

“This okay?”

You can see how he pulls on the ropes, how he wiggles, how he gets a couple of fingers of his other hand under the rope.

“Feels good.”

He looks beautiful when you’re done with his other wrist and he lays in front of you - tied.

“Ankles as well?”

He shakes his head on the pillow. Thomas still tests the pull and give of his restraints when you apply the lipstick, you just look at him for a while until he whines and strains his neck uncomfortably to look at you.

You press the first kiss to his right ankle, then the left, you leave kisses all over his calves, his thighs - leaving an ocean of right behind. He moans when you leave kisses on both of his asscheeks, squirms under you, shamelessly pushes his ass closer to you.

“Hey, hey,” you pull away from him. “Only kisses.”

“Not even a finger?”

“No, not even one,” you smile, “And it’s pretty red already, believe me, so no slaps either.”

It’s not that you don’t want to give it to him at all but you aren’t quite sure where you left the lube last time and you wouldn’t leave him alone to go and look for it. The other problem, you don’t really see as a problem, but would leave Thomas too embarrassed would be that he would cum. Doesn’t matter if one finger, or two, or three. He would fuck himself back on them and cum, faster than he would like, embarrasslingy fast and he might not be happy to continue after. You don’t want to end this so soon. 

“I won’t …,” he starts and whines before continuing, “cum. I promise.”

“Good boys don’t lie.” You wet one of your fingers with spit and let it catch on his hole, he only tries to muffle his noises. “That wouldn’t even take you two minutes.”

You withdraw your finger and start kissing him again, the small of his back, his sides, some moles and freckles. Up his lower back. You do notice that he’s biting the pillow, rolling his hips into the mattress but you only stop him when he's seriously starting to rut into it. 

“What are you doing?” You hold his hips still.

“I’m hard,” he mumbles when you gently pull him off the pillow by his hair, lipstick bleeding into the white pillow case. An ear shattering mewl comes from him when you reach around him but before he has the chance to buck up into your hand, you pull away.

“Yes, my bunny is hard,” you whisper into his ear, “But I want you to hold your hips still. No getting off, okay?” 

He would - get off. Rubbing himself against the mattress, against you, furniture, your pillow. You can still remember the one time he was dry humping the pillow next to you. You didn’t ask him to do it, Thomas so horny and desperate to get off that he didn’t realise what he was doing, the only thing that was important was that you didn’t stop him. There wasn’t a no coming from you. The wet spot in his underwear gave him away before the humiliation reached his eyes and spit on his chin before he looked away ashamed. You moan thinking about it, you want him to do it again but you have to store the idea away for another day.

You still hold his hips when you kiss his shoulders. Then his neck, you stroke sweaty strands of his blond hair out of the way. You kiss the shells of his ears softly, Thomas shivering under you. For what feels like the fifth time already you reapply your lipstick again.

“Turn over.”

He’s careful to turn, slow, the ropes crossing and you can see how his dick is straining against his stomach, pre cum on the tip. 

This time you start kissing on the bridge of his foot, then the ankle, repeat your movements on the other side. Before kissing up his calves, his thighs, again. You kiss into his prominent pubic hair, pushing his dick a little out of the way to kiss his belly, his hips, up his happy trail, around his navel before you lick into it for only a second. You leave red marks on his ribs, around his sensitive nipples - on them. On his collarbones. You kiss his arms, his tattoos. His armpits, for a little bit longer, when you lick there he moans and pulls against the rope. You move on to kiss his tied wrists, his hands, his fingers. 

There’s a sniff. And then another. Some heavy breathing.

“Thom?”

“Hmmm?” He looks at you teary eyed.

“You are crying.” You put your hands on his wrists to untie him quickly if he wants to, if he needs to, stop. “Are you okay?”

“‘S good …,” he sounds drowsy and his eyes flutter but he still cries, “good tears, promise. More?”

You press the last kisses to his fingers and then move to his throat. You kiss up to his chin, you kiss the stubble, his cheeks, his forehead under his sweat drenched fringe, you kiss some tears away. You leave a dozen kisses on his nose before you stop.

“You forgot something,” he says sheepishly.

“True.”

And then you kiss him on the lips, his tongue lazily pushing into your mouth. He breathes heavily when you pull away.

“You said everything,” he whines and he pulls on his restraints even more than before.

It possibly feels like hours for Thomas when it only takes a few minutes to kiss your way down again. You take your time to kiss his scrotum, a bit too long for Thomas it seems, because he cums. His leg is kicking into the mattress, and then there’s only a low whimper. You can feel how he’s in a fight with the ropes around his wrists while you kiss and lick up his length and then you place one last kiss on the tip, some cum dribbling out of him and a pitiful whimper coming from the back of Thomas’ throat. You move up quickly to untie his wrists, to pull him close, sweat and lipstick covering him. He just sinks into your embrace.

“Are you okay?”

He nods at your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still floaty,” he looks at you - cuddles even closer to you, makes himself a home right where your heart beats, “but … I feel loved.”

“Good,” you kiss the top of his head, “Let's get you some water, and then I’ll clean you up.”

Thomas makes a grumpy noise at that.

“I’m gonna wash your hair and massage your shoulders, I promise. And after we can cuddle.”

“Chocolate?” Thomas asks.

“Yes, sure.” It’s some habit he developed, you already have forgotten how it started. But Thomas who usually isn’t too fused about chocolate would ask for it after subbing. After you put him in a fluffy bathrobe, he would slowly nibble on his chocolate while being hugged. “Of course you’re getting your chocolate.”

“And next time,” he smiles, “I can kiss you.”

.#####.

You shouldn’t be shocked, or surprised, but somehow you are both. It’s the fact that you didn’t expect it, when you should have seen it coming.

There’s red letters on your bathroom mirror. Lipstick sticking to the glass.

Love you!

There’s a heart around it, a lipstick mark next to it.

You can’t even be mad that he used your expensive one.

.#####.

How are there so many shades of lipstick?

That’s what Thomas writes to you one evening. 

How come you kept the liquid matte ones from me?

You laugh.

The next evening Vic texts you, looking for her lipstick, she thinks it might be with you. You have a look in the bathroom before you realise that the most likely suspect is right under her nose.

Ask Thom. And tell him, he has to give it back, he can’t just take what isn’t his.

He’s out but I found it in one of his pockets. Since when does he steal lipstick? 

Slight obsession.

You can imagine how Thomas’ cheeks heat up when Vic will tease him with it later.

Can you show me the colour?

Vic sends a photo of a lipstick tub with red roses on it. Another one, where you can see the colour, a raspberry red - a little pinkish. Another one that shows you the name. It’s matte and liquid. 

.#####.

“I got something for you.”

“Shouldn’t I bring presents from travelling, or something?”

“You will like it,” you smile at him. He will, you’re sure. But there might be a catch he isn’t expecting when you look at his excited face.

His face slightly drops when you give him the lipstick tub. Red roses on white background. The Dolce & Gabbana sign on it. The Dolcissimo name. He swallows.

“You know what this is?”

He nods.

You wait.

“Vic’s … lipstick.”

“No, this is your lipstick. I bought it, it’s yours, you can wear it.” He nods again. “And what do you have to say?”

“Little bunnies don’t take what isn’t theirs?”

“Exactly,” you say softly, “Come here.”

You apply the lipstick to his lips, he looks beautiful. Pretty.  

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you apologise to Vic?”

“I did.” Thomas blushes deeply.

“Good, and now bunny can make it up to me.”

He nods.

“You can get yourself ready,” there’s excitement sparking in his eyes, “And then you can get my harness, choose a size and take one more toy. Then you can get me, I’ll be in the kitchen cooking for later.”

At some point it made click in your head, that the biggest punishment for him is deciding on it himself and some other small thing. Rack his pretty head if he can and wants to take what he chooses for himself. It takes him longer than you anticipate. When he comes into the kitchen, he’s naked. Except for his collar, his cheeks are reddened. He isn’t saying a peep.

“Did you choose?”

He nods.

You eye his collar, you didn’t say anything about it, you aren’t displeased, you almost let it slide completely. You put a finger under it: “Next time you ask, okay?”

“Yes,” he gets out quickly, “Yes, I will. Thank you for letting me wear it.”

Thomas put everything on the end of the bed. He kneels next to it on the floor. You have a closer look. There’s your harness, lube, a condom, a dildo that’s slightly bigger than what you thought he would pick. But the biggest surprise are the nipple clamps he got out. With every passing second he blushes more. You pick the clamps up and let them dangle in front of his face.

“Are you sure about them?”

“Yes,” he looks at the floor.

“Babe, you hate them.” He really does, his nipples are sensitive, he always yelps and looks at you as if in agony. “You can choose something else, you can choose something you like.”

You’re surprised he didn’t go with his usual choice of rope. Or his second choice of a cock ring - there even is a vibrating one that he actually loves somewhere in the nightstand. 

“Can we try?” His voice is small. “Please.”

“Sure,” you get your hand under his chin, “but if this is too much we will change to a ring, okay?”

“Yes,” he smiles, “I would like that.”

You get your harness to step into it. Thomas stretches his hand out before he stops himself.

“Am I allowed to help?”

“Of course.”

He readjusts a strap that twisted, then he adjusts the toy to the o-ring of your strap-on harness. He stays on the floor until you tell him to get on the bed.

“Did you finger yourself?”

He looks at you out of wide eyes. Surprised. It just seems to hit him that this was included in getting yourself ready. 

“No,” he closes his eyes. “Bunny is still good?”

“Yes, you’re good.” You take his hand and squirt some lube onto his fingers. “You can do it now.”

You kiss his thighs, you know that he slid one finger into himself when you hear him moan, and then another one a few minutes later when you hear him mewl. You put some lube on your own fingers, one of them slips easily into Thomas, joining two of his own which he scissors slightly.

“You think that’s enough?”

“Ye-,” a moan rips through his throat, “Yes, I’m ready, please.”

“Good, keep your fingers there a little longer.” He sighs when you pull your finger out. You get the clamps and put them on his nipples slowly and carefully. He whimpers and moans and whines. “Should we take them off?”

You tug on the chain gently. There’s a little silent cry tumbling from Thomas’ lips. 

“Let’s take them off, okay.”

But Thomas shakes his head.

“No?”

“No,” he whines, “I want them, please. I want this, it feels nice … but no tugging harder than this.”

“Okay,” you shush him, “Not harder than this. And when it is too much we will still take them off.”

He watches you when you rub the lube onto the strap-on. Obediently he spreads his legs and he bites his lips when you stretch him out slowly. After a couple of inches you stop, only continuing when Thomas whimpers for more. You go slow on him, and his whimpers turn into moans when you slide in with the whole length. Thomas’ breath goes heavily and he bites his lips when you stop moving, just keeping him full. 

“You’re ruining your lipstick.”

He stops biting, but when you pull out completely, he bites his lip again to muffle his frustrated voice.

“I want you on top.”

You change places. He is over you, and you sitting against the back of the bed, waiting for him. To lower himself down, to get the dildo inside again. You’re waiting for him, he lets it slide back in slowly. He’s betraying his own impatience with how slow he’s going. Before the impatience takes over and he starts to bounce up and down. Hands around your neck. He hisses when you still his hips. It’s the other small thing he hates so much. 

“No bouncing.”

“But …” 

“Don’t move.”

For a minute you both stay still. He’s soft, and whimpering. And sososo desperate. You can see it on his face, it takes him a lot not to move. 

“That’s it, just like that,” you press a kiss to his lips - then to his nose, “such a good boy for holding still.”

“Just wanna bounce.”

You laugh a little: “I know, you’re such a bouncy bunny. But you have to hold out a bit longer.”

He grits his teeth together, everything to just stop himself from moving. He’s impatient, he wants to move. There are whines and growls coming from the back of his throat. You know it’s all he wants to do, just bounce up and down. Have the tip bump against his prostate. 

“You’re pretty when you’re blushing.”

His face and his throat get even redder, the teasing getting to him. He’s trying so hard not to move, to bounce, to wiggle, to grind against you. 

“You’re doing great.”

He loves the praise, his eyes rolling back. The blush isn’t going down, it only gets more, travelling down his chest. The look of his eyes is pleadingly, and he grabs your hand, squeezing it to think about anything else than moving. 

“Now you can move.”

There’s a breath he probably doesn’t know he was holding. He moves, his hips moving up and down. He’s a bouncing mess on top of you, lipstick getting smudged. He’s panting. And he’s so close. His thighs are quivering, his face lit up in pleasure. You tug at the chain from the nipple clamps just a tiny bit, he whines, but he still moves his hips.

“Stop.”

He makes the craziest sound you have ever heard. Alluring. Absolutely pathetic little noise. Still, he stops moving.

“Not fair,” slips out of his mouth before he can think about it. You tug on the chain again. You know that he can’t think straight anymore. 

You give him a short break: “Move.”

He moves, this time quicker, more uncoordinated. You give him a couple of minutes, not enough for him.

“Stop.”

“No …”

He whines, he bounces for a couple more seconds which is why you slap his thigh lightly and then he stops. He flares his nose. You know it’s all so much, too much. 

After the fourth round, you praise him, he isn’t moving. But he’s begging, drooling, the spit running down his chin. 

“Please, pl-please, just, bounce, please.”

Everything coming out of his mouth is a broken cry. His hair is everywhere, his bangs clinging to his forehead, sweat on his chest.

“I’m …,” he shivers, “Please, I’m so desperate. Bunny needs …”

He doesn’t finish. He sloppily starts sucking on your fingers when you hold them out for him. His red lips look beautiful around your fingers. 

“You were so good today,” you smile at him, “You can move.”

Thomas starts moving and this time you don’t stop him. His thighs are quivering harder than before. His breath hitching, his movements uncoordinated. You raise your hips a little bit to meet his movements. He cums with a loud moan when he bounces down and you take one of the nipple clamps off just to have the little teeth snap again. Thomas only slowly calms down.

“Ouch,” he whimpers.

You take them off carefully, Thomas still mumbling. 

“You are fantastic, we will put cream on your poor nipples,” you whisper into his ear, “Such a good boy, I love you.”

He doesn’t make any move to get off you, wanting the feeling for a bit longer. You’re grateful that you took a glass of water and some chocolate from the kitchen earlier.

“Love you too.”

.#####.

Thomas sends a photo of a lipstick to you just before a show. 

Vic’s?

NO

You can see the pout in front of your inner eye. 

Ethan got it from the mua. He said, I’m eyeing it, so I should wear it

It’s a lovely shade of merlot.

Do you want to wear it?

Yes

He sends you a selfie. Thomas in front of the mirror. Lipstick on his lips. He’s beautiful, and he doesn’t rub it off. Only when the stage lights are out again.

.#####.

END.

.#####.

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