#dio writes

[dio-icarticaae]

Currently writing a Superfam snow day fic and an offhand line about driving got me thinking:

Kansans have negative winter/icy roads driving skills. They are TERRIBLE at it. I say this as someone who has Kansas relatives, but does not live there.

So picture Clark, in Metropolis, after experiencing his first major snowstorm. He has to drive for some reason (picking Lois up from somewhere). Lois actually knows how to drive on winter/icy roads. She is horrified. She makes Clark pull over so that she can drive instead because "Really, Smalville, were you trying to get in an accident?"

Lois then insists on teaching Clark how to drive on winter roads so he's no longer a road hazard during winter. Bruce gets to help/be the mock driver's examiner after Lois calls him to complain about their boyfriend's lack of driving skills (because I think this works best as Cloisbat)

Bruce: Clark, why did Lois call me and say we had to teach you to drive before you killed us?

Clark: You're both terrible drivers and she's exaggerating. I can drive perfectly safely on ice!

Bruce: So what did you do?

Clark: I stopped before driving up a hill. It's slippery!

Bruce: You what?!?!

Clark: It's slippery!

Bruce: *going through the five stages of grief about how Clark is going to end up in a car accident*

And then Lois and Bruce teach Clark how to drive in winter conditions and despair when he says that everyone drives like this.

#dc #clark kent #kal el #superman #lois lane #bruce wayne #batman #cloisbat #clois #superbat #fic ideas #dio writes #winter weather #winter driving #I am DEFINITELY writing this at some point. but first. superfam snow day fluff

[saionjeans]

yet another moment where saionji says something incredibly trenchant and insightful only to be completely dismissed due to the ridiculous framing and the general cringiness that pervades everything he says and does (eg, pointing out that the castle is a trick of the light, announcing that they must shed the coffins end of the world has prepared for them, etc etc). obviously in this instance, he is both saying something that is proven correct throughout the show via a myriad of dynamics, but is also shown to be a precept that is teleologically challenged and rejected by anthy’s final choice.

upon a first viewing, one might assume saionji himself is talking about anthy here, whether by presumptuously assuming that she loves him despite his abuse, or claiming that her rejection of him does not lessen his love for her. either way, he seems totally delusional and moronic. i can only assume that utena, who has even less information than we do regarding saionji’s true feelings, assumes that he is talking about anthy, and thus dismisses him out of hand for being a violent idiot. and rightfully so. but also, he’s clearly not talking about anthy, even if he may think he is (or at least would claim that he was if questioned). and this statement is truly definitional to his relationship to touga, whom he resents, envies, and maybe even loathes, but whom he cannot seem to ever actually abandon.

even when he’s given the chance to start fresh, he returns to ohtori (and in this case you can say that it’s because he has nowhere to go, no family, the outside world is scary, ohtori is all he knows, he felt he had no other choice… but this was also true of anthy, and she eventually found the courage to leave! it’s very very hard, but it’s not impossible, which is the point). even as he vocally condemns akio’s system, he nonetheless participates in it, albeit reluctantly, for touga. he is freer, healthier, and kinder in wakaba’s dorm, but he is also deeply unhappy. which isn’t to say that he ever seems happy (at least, not after losing the rose bride), but his unhappiness in “wakaba flourishing” is that of depression, whereas his unhappiness around touga is that of resentment. he’s rightfully angry over constantly being mistreated, but at least he’s not lost. he has a purpose. even if it’s just the purpose of receiving abuse and putting up a futile fight, it’s a role he can play with the only person who has ever truly mattered to him. it’s all he knows; it’s the closest thing he has to real love. and so he stays.

nanami is in a very similar situation as saionji is. they both idealize a version of touga who never really existed, and cling to him despite his blatant mistreatment of them because he is the only person who has ever shown them true affection in their entire lives. he manipulates them, makes a laughingstock of them, facilitates and participates in sexually abusing them, but also makes sure that they are too dependent on him to leave them. nanami is even more blatant in illustrating this idea than saionji is, as for most of the show, she does not even resist against touga like saionji does, rather she purely venerates and worships him, to the point of parody. he is a terrible brother to her, but in such a way that makes it seem like he’s actually a good brother to an obnoxious, ridiculous sister. he is actively grooming her, and she has nowhere to run, because he has fashioned himself her entire world. she cannot fathom a world beyond his limits, her very own personal end of the world.

it’s somewhat unclear whether touga thinks that controlling saionji and nanami is necessary to keeping them around, or whether he only wants them around because he enjoys assuming control over others. it’s probably a mix of both. he probably does hold some affection for them, but cannot conceive of a way to keep them as close to him as he would like without exploiting them, because he believes that true friendship is for fools and true love is impossible. to touga, if every relationship must be imbalanced in some way, then he at least wants to be the one with the power in his deepest relationships, unaware (or at least, willfully ignorant) of the fact that by corrupting and perverting their dynamics, he is slowly tainting their naive childhood love and affection that drew them to him in the first place. so in touga’s case, he inverts saionji’s logic to refigure it as “love can only be facilitated through abuse, no one will truly show you love unless they have to (through exploitation).” it’s the logic of someone who sees the world through an almost 2D framework of abuse, exploitation, transaction, and control. it’s the logic of someone desperately sad and desperately cynical. nanami is very wise (and brave) to ultimately reject him/it, even though it, too, is all she knows.

tsuwabuki complicates the nanami/touga dynamic by aspiring to inhabit both their roles simultaneously, and so he allows himself to be subjected to nanami’s exploitation while simultaneously subjecting her to violence. he is happy to be abused by nanami not because he loves her per se, but because their abuse is mutual. shiori and juri have a similar dynamic, wherein they are both at fault in different ways, both attempt to avoid the other (physically and psychologically) and yet constantly collide like magnets. however, the i would argue that the abuse they face is largely systemic, and their behaviors are primarily a symptom of their internalized homophobia rather than overt malice (even though shiori may pretend otherwise). miki and kozue’s tension is also mutual. they both harm the other despite loving them deeply. because love is not a bandaid that revolves all pain, misunderstanding, and miscommunication. see: the utena and anthy ledge scene.

finally, i think this quote is actually most powerful when figuring it through the lens of utena, anthy, and akio. of course, akio has fostered a dependency in anthy much like touga has with nanami, and so she does not know how to leave him despite being in incredible pain at his hand. but she is not “happy,” as saionji puts it. she is the most miserable girl in the world. she doesn’t love akio as much as she loves the memory of him, the idea of dios (which is of course also true for nanami and saionji re: touga, arguably also true for juri re: shiori, miki re: kozue, etc etc) — but anthy needs akio. or at least, akio has convinced her that she does. he is end of the world, she cannot envision a life beyond his imposed limits.

but i actually find it more interesting with regards to utena and akio. i don’t think at any point in the show, utena ever actually has real, romantic feelings for akio. i think that she is terrified of him, and in her desperate feelings of trapped helplessness as he ensnares her, she convinces herself that those heart palpitations, startled movements, shocks and thrills she feels in her presence is the emotional response not of fear, but of affection. but we know that in anthy’s presence, she doesn’t feel afraid, she feels calm, relaxed, happy. being with anthy isn’t wildly exciting, constantly requiring rationalizations to explain away the dread and internal rejection she feels towards akio’s advances. being with anthy feels like coming home. and it’s why she is initially so happy to be accepted into anthy’s family, to have a big brother like akio, to live under their roof. in utena’s naive, hopeful mind, she is joining anthy’s family in the most innocent possible sense. and she endures it, the grooming, the abuse, the rape, the end of the world; she fights til her very last breath, because she is in love. no matter how [utena] may be abused (by akio), she’s always happy to be near the one she loves (anthy).

#remind me to write an analysis on the moniker ‘end of the world’ next #bc i only rly allude to that here #id in alt text #u #analysis #manalysis #saionji #utena #touga #anthy #akio #nanami #miki #kozue #juri #shiori #tsuwabuki #dios #utenanthy

[sovereignjojoz]

how they carry you/you them (ultimate edition)

Pairings: Jonathan x reader, dio…x reader?Joseph x reader, Ceaser x reader, jotaro x reader, polenarff x reader, Avdol x reader, josuke x reader, Rohan x reader.

Warnings: weird, partial fluff, partial crack, idk, dio?, tired at Rohan’s.

Notes - for all the love on the Bucci gang edition!<3

Jonathan Joestar

Gotta be Bridal style

The og gentleman

Very traditional

He just loves to carry you he would carry you always if he could.

He’ll probably spin you around too, he’s just so sweet!

Carrying him

I mean if you insist!

It’s quite unusual in Victorian society so he’s a bit befuddled.

But if it pleases you then go ahead!

Dio Brando…

He’s just gonna be a manhandler.

He’s not sweet or nice, none of that lovey dovey stuff he’s gonna do what he wants.

He’ll carry you, drag you, whatever, he fr doesn’t care.

Not very romantic.

Carries you however he wants even if it’s never been heard of.

Kinda possessive, he might squeeze you tight if others look at you.

Touchy.

Honestly bad overall, but you dio simps probably don’t care, that’s why you like him after all! (Affectionate)🥰

Carrying him

He expects this, don’t be daft.

And he’s not gonna make it easy.

He might even make u carry him on a throne, after all he’s dio and it’s what he deserves.🤷🏽‍♀️

Joseph Joestar

To put it simply, he’s a troll.

Every time he carries you, he’ll pick you up bridal style and secure you in his arms, and only once you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck or have gotten comfortable he’ll either a) pretend to drop you (if he’s feeling kinder) or b) actually drop you.

Then he’ll laugh rambunctiously.

“C’mon babe, ya fall for it every time and it gets funnier every t-“

“Jojo!”

“ ouch my ear! ‘m sorry!”

Seems like the kinda guy who likes to carry you whilst doing squats or other gym activities just to show off his strength, he especially loves it if it gets a ride out of you.

Overall annoying

Will not put you down.

Likes to make you squirm by carrying you with one arm and touching/tickling your feet like the weirdo he is.

Kinda touchy.

So so annoying.

Will definitely show off in front of Caeser

Carrying him

Never offer

He gets even more annoying.

As soon as you've picked him up, he'll make himself as heavy as he can and literally drop all his weight on you just so you struggle.

And he's so audacious and sassy.

He'll taunt you with comments like, "oh, is that struggling I see, huh? You insisted on carrying me so chop chop."

He even snaps his fingers at you.

Just drop him.

Caeser Zeppelli

Hm, ever the charmer isn’t he?

You just know he absolutely loves carrying his s/o.

It’s obvious knowledge that he has a notorious history of being a playboy, and because of his experience with women, he knows what women like, what little gestures make them blush, how they prefer to be held etc.

So he’s going to put the knowledge he’s accumulated on you, he wants to make you swoon.

He somehow manages to always gets the timing right too, he will literally sweep you off your feet like Prince Charming.

He’ll probably want to kiss you too and like pull you really close to his chest.

He definitely wants a s/o who gets easily flustered when he carries them! No matter if you cover your face, blush, squirm he doesn’t care, he wants that reaction!

“Caeser put me down!” You whisper-shouted, trying and failing to push him away, you were literally in front of Lisa Lisa!

He kissed your neck chastely, “why Cara? I quite like you in my arms.”

“Mpmph!”

Likes to show off in front of Joseph.

Carrying him

He’ll blush out of surprise.

It’s feels so foreign to him, he’s not quite sure if he likes it!

He’ll definitely be more vulnerable to getting flustered!

Overall, he prefers to do the flustering and carrying.

Kujo Jotaro

Listen, I’m not even going to lie, you’re probably going to have to jump/floor him to get him to carry you…

Or you’re going to have to annoy him 24/7 so he considers it, just so he can get you to finally shut up.

“Jojo, Jojo, Jojo, please! I really really love you jojo! And you would do the same if you love meee-!”

Literally knocks you off of your feet.

Might just leave you on the floor.

Or he’ll hold you for one second, the drop you (heart eyes).

Jump on his back and you’ll get a piggy back for like 5 seconds or something before he pushes you off.

Small bonus! Part 4 jotaro! (+ jolyne)

Becomes more open to carrying you.

Still would rather not but if you insist fine.

He’ll brashly pick you up, stand still and hold you bridal style.

Baby Jolyne will make grabby hands and he’ll pick her up with one hand and carry you and her both.

Carries both you and baby Jolyne like sacs of potatoes.

Will put baby Jolyne on his shoulders.

Carrying him

Don’t try it, he’s got good reflexes, you might get knocked out.

He’ll probably wobble around because he doesn’t get carried.

Hates it.

Jean-Pierre Polnareff

My babygirl.

He’s such a romantic.

He just wants to pamper you and spoil you by making you not have to do anything ever, including walking!

“Ma Cherie! Please, don’t dirty your beautiful shoes in that puddle, allow me.”

Loves the feel of you close to him.

Wants you to jump on him, in his arms, any place any time.

Lil bit touchy.

He’ll speak to you in French too even if you can’t understand it (especially if you can’t) just to make you swoon more.

Sometimes he’ll carry you and dance just because.

Just lifts you when he’s extremely happy.

Give him affection!

Carrying him

If you love it he loves it.

He doesn’t care he just wants you to be happy.

Surprised at your strength though!

And he becomes very blushy too.

Avdol

You gotta be practical with him.

He won’t refuse but he certainly won’t endorse it unless you both have privacy, he’s not a fan of pda unlike others on here (cough Caeser, Joseph and Polenarff).

He’ll carry you if you’re injured though, and he’ll be so tender, making sure not to hurt you.

In terms of carrying you, he prefers the more romantic side of things such as carrying you to bed.

Although if you want to be silly and like do challenges he may indulge you once or twice even though he may not be so fond of such things.

One thing is though you absolutely cannot get caught by Joseph! He wouldn’t be able to handle the teasing!

Carrying him

The first time you attempt it, he’ll definitely grip you tightly out of surprise.

“Oh my!”

The look of pure shock on his face is so cute.

He might ask you to put him down after a while though.

He may let you carry him once or twice more.

The best Jojo Higashkiata Josuke

Similar to Mista, he LOVES to carry you in any way he can.

Like he’ll tackle you in order to carry you, in fact a lot of the time him carrying you stems from you and him play fighting.

His favourite way to carry you is putting you on his shoulder and doing whatever he wants, like he might even put you on his shoulder then go about having a normal conversation with okuyasu???

I can’t get this out of my head but I envision running at you at max speed and just picking you up, putting you on his shoulder and continuing running.

And the reason varies like sometimes it’s valid like kira will be in the vicinity and other times it’s so random.

“Oh shi- [name]! We have to go we’re gonna be late to meet my mom at the dentists.”

Carrying him

Again you’ll probably struggle.

And he’ll laugh at you and tease you.

Maybe even take a picture.

This is the time for him to relax, y’know?

He’s shameless too, like he’ll call okuyasu whilst you struggle and be like “you got this babe, anyway…”

If Rohan ever sees this is just another reason on the list of why he doesn’t like Josuke.

Kishibe Rohan

No.

He doesn’t have time for such trivial things, he’s got to work on things such as his manga.

This is something that idiot Josuke would do, not him.

But then he remembers that you’re his s/o and this will make you really happy, so he sighs and closes his sketchbook and indulges you.

Keeps it short and sweet.

When he puts you down they’ll be a couple of lingering touches.

Throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him, and tell him how much you love him then he’ll indulge you more.

Carrying him

Absolutely not, will jump out of your hold immediately and scowl.

#jjba x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #dio brando x reader #joseph joestar x reader #caeser zeppeli x reader #jotaro x reader #polnareff x reader #avdol x reader #josuke x reader #rohan x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba fluff #this is so stupid #but I had to write it for my bbgs polnareff and ceaser because they deserve it #Rohan too but I got lazy by the end #CAESER NEEDS MORE LOVE

[flowercrowngods]

based on this concept of steve and mike coming out to each other

🤍 also on ao3

The sun is setting in beautiful hues of pink and purple, tinging the town of Hawkins, Indiana, in a light of serenity and beauty it doesn’t really deserve. Steve’s hands are gripped tight around the steering wheel as he carefully scans the road and the houses he passes.

He almost misses the bike where it’s lying on the curb, carelessly discarded by the looks of it, and a tinge of worry shadows his frown. Worry that doesn’t quite dissipate when he spots the figure sitting on the roof, almost black against the lilac colour of the sky, but he breathes a sigh of relief. He considers grabbing the radio to let the others know he found Mike, but decides against it. Something tells him that maybe they’ll take a while. Something tells him there’s more to Will’s stunned silence and Mike’s sudden departure from where they were all hanging out at Steve’s after another successful Hellfire session. 

With a sigh, Steve cuts the engine and gets out of the car, keeping his eyes on Mike the whole time — ready for him to take off again, ready to go sit a while and wait for him to come back. But Mike doesn’t move, even after he shuts the door and approaches the Wheelers’ house. He doesn’t acknowledge Steve when he pulls himself up to the roof, easier this time than the first time he did this. 

There’s a snide comment in the air between them, a version of Mike that would have lashed out at him, made fun of and insulted him. But this one just sits there, hands in his lap, frown on his face, and stares ahead. 

“What do you want,” he asks eventually, though it doesn’t have the kind of heat that Steve expects. He barely even sounds like a teenager. Just sort of… dejected. Steve aches for him; just a little bit. 

“Just making sure you’re alright,” Steve says, shrugging, looking ahead as well so Mike doesn’t feel watched. Or seen, maybe. 

Because the thing is, Steve does see him. He sees the way he looks at Will sometimes, and the way his eyes fill with something that can only be described as yearning, or aching, followed by regret and fear. Which always, always turn into anger. Into frustration. Into snide comments and rolled eyes and walls that keep getting an inch added to them each day. It’s never directed at Will, that anger, and rarely at the rest of the Party, but Steve still sees it. Gets the worst of it and takes it, because he knows something about how that feels. 

He knows something about looking at someone like that, about feeling that fear, that regret, that worry that come with it. He knows something about never really daring to meet someone’s eyes for fear of what they would see. 

“I’m alright,” Mike says, sounding anything but. There’s a bitterness in his voice. Frustration in the way his thumb is picking at the skin of his fingers. Confusion in the tension of his shoulders, and Steve feels like he only needs to make one wrong move, say one wrong word, make a single sound that’s off key to the melody of this moment, and Mike will jump off the roof and take off again with his bike. 

So all he says, after a moment’s consideration, is, “Cool.” Like he believes him. Giving Mike room to breathe, room to pretend. He knows something about that, too. 

He knows and he sees and he feels. 

And suddenly he wants to say something he’s never said before, something he didn’t even get to tell Robin because she knew and saw and felt, too, taking something from him that he hasn’t yet been ready to reclaim for himself. 

And maybe it’s because he sees something of himself in the way Mike holds himself, in the way he snaps at anyone willing to listen, in the way he frowns in regret and barely meets anyone’s eyes except when it’s in challenge — and, most of all, in the way he never, never meets Will’s eyes. In the way he looks away when the other boy turns to him, and in the way his eyes will snap back and take in everything about his best friend when he’s not aware of it. 

Maybe it’s because the sky is pink and lilac and purple above them, allowing for a certain magic to happen, allowing for a bravery that doesn’t come easy to him; but as he sits on the roof next to Mike Wheeler, the only one of the Party he never really connected with, he closes his eyes against the breeze that catches in his hair and opens his jacket a little further, slithering beneath the fabric as if in a brief embrace, a nudge, a sign to take this leap, and takes a deep breath. 

His heart is picking up its pace inside his chest, taking this leap along wit him, and pulls up one of his legs to wrap his hands around it — just to have something to hold onto. 

He opens his mouth once, twice, three times, but the words never really come out. They don’t know how, and he’s beginning to tremble a little with it, tension building in his chest where the words are still locked away, hidden among layers of truth. 

Mike looks over with a frown and eyes him warily. It makes Steve want to laugh, this sudden change of pace, but he just keeps staring ahead; even when Mike asks, “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Steve says. And then then dam is broken and breaking further, and with another deep breath, still not meeting Mike’s eyes, instead focusing on the tree tops in the distance that shine in hues of purple, he finally says, “I’m kind of dating Eddie Munson.” 

And just like that, it’s out. He’s out. 

He doesn’t know if the world still spins, if time still passes, if he still breathes, because for a moment there is only silence. Mike stops picking at the skin of his fingers, Steve stops trembling, and neither of them moves. 

It’s both anticlimactic and momentous, this silence between them when their eyes meet. When the words unfold and grow wings, when Mike understands, his eyes growing big with something that Steve can’t quite read with how tense he is despite his best efforts. 

The silence stretches between them, surpassing comfort and overstaying its welcome, and suddenly it’s Steve who feels like he’s about to take off if Mike so much as twitches his brows. 

“You… What?” 

Forget it, Steve wants to say. Nothing. 

But also, I’m in love with Eddie Munson. And I used to be in love with Nancy. And that’s okay. Both of that, it’s okay. 

He ends up repeating his words, though, because they know what it’s like to be spoken now. “Eddie. I’m kind of dating Eddie.” 

“But…” It’s Mike now whose mouth is opening and closing without saying anything. Mike who’s blinking, trembling a little, twitching, picking at his skin again, moving further along his hand this time to pinch the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Steve almost reaches out to stop him, but he doesn’t really dare to. 

“But?” he prompts after a while, not quite comfortable with this loaded kind of silence. 

“Eddie’s a boy.” 

But Tammy Thompson is a girl. 

“I know,” Steve says, his tone carefully neutral, wanting to see, to wait where Mike takes this, to hear what’s on his mind, to watch the wheels turn and the gears shift. He feels awfully raw and open, vulnerable with someone who hasn’t been treating that with care yet. But there’s something about this moment that feels bigger than his own fears, bigger than the light nausea settling in his gut; far more important than the way he wants to run and hide, away from the scrutiny. 

“And…” Mike continues, still battling the words inside his head. Steve wonders if there are too many or none at all. “But you… You loved Nancy.” 

Ah. Smart boy. “I did,” Steve says with a small smile. “And it was never a lie. But I found that… Yeah, I can kinda like boys, too, y’know? And that’s, like, okay.”

A beat. A frown. A confused, hopeful, small, “It is?” 

Steve just nods, smiling in reassurance and relief at equal measures. Silence settles once more, now that the sky has darkened into a deeper, darker blue; but it’s not as loaded this time, not as tense. It’s an invitation. An offering. A promise of I’m here, I’m with you, you can take as long as you need. To get down from the roof, to come back, to come out of wherever you think you need to hide from the world. 

Mike takes it. He stays, pulling up his leg, too, mirroring Steve’s pose and staring ahead, but not as far away. He seems alert, seems to be thinking rather than dwelling, seems to be gearing up for something. Steve watches and sees and knows, remaining patient beside him, his chin resting on his knee as Mike learns to deal with this new world that has been presented to him. This new world that comes with opportunities and chances and possibilities that are scary and big and difficult to make. 

“Y’know,” Mike starts at last, interrupting the silence, playing with it, his voice hushed and quiet to keep it from disappearing completely. “Lucas, when he had that championship game? He told us, Dustin and me, that we didn’t have to be the losers this time. The nerds. The outcasts. Different. And all I wanted was to scream at him, because…” 

Mike swallows his words, keeping them from tumbling out of his mouth, and Steve aches for him again. He wants to reach out, wants to say it’s okay, tell him it’s alright, to take his time. But he waits in silence, lets Mike find the bravery he needs on his own, and waits. 

“Because how could he say that, you know? How could he, when… Will wasn’t there. And all I did, all I ever did anymore, was miss him. And I loved El, I knew I did. And she was gone, too, but…” 

He trails off again, and this time Steve picks it up. To let him know he’s not alone. To let Mike know he understands what he’s saying. He understands. “But she’s not Will. You needed Will.” 

“But I shouldn’t!” Mike explodes suddenly, riled up because Steve adds fuel to the fire, because Steve has that same fire, too; and because they are so, so similar when they want to be. “And now he’s back and it should be fine, I shouldn’t be feeling like this, it doesn’t even make sense! How can I…” 

Steve looks at him, at his expression that is nothing but lost — completely and utterly. He’s seen it on the bathroom floor at the mall; high out of his mind as he was, he’ll never forget the way Robin looked at him, the sheer crestfallen expression. All that confusion, all that fear and frustration and, in the end, resignation. He’s seen it in the mirror, and he’s seen it in those pretty brown eyes that he just can’t get out of his head anymore. 

He offers, gently, “How can you need him when he’s right there? How can you love him when a year ago you loved El?”

And Mike just looks at him before he deflates completely, his shoulders falling along with his face. He nods. Shrugs. Looks away and hides his face behind his leg. 

Steve sighs softly, watching the boy and speaking the words he wants to say the sixteen year-old version of himself. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I really don’t, and it sucks sometimes, having this need to, like, decide. Or understand. Or stop and be like the rest of them.” Like Robin and Eddie, or like the rest of the world. “But I like to think, sometimes, that maybe it’s a good thing. That there’s just… I don’t know, it sounds corny as hell, but like, there’s just so much love to give, we can’t even stick to only boys or girls, y’know.” 

“That does sound real corny as fuck, man,” Mike says, and back is that long suffering tone of his, back is that eye roll and the twitching elbow, ready to nudge Steve in the side. It’s still tinged with that vulnerability, not quite Mike yet, but it’s an offering.

One of many tonight, it seems.

Steve grins, a bit lopsided and raw, shoving Mike gently as he remembers something he overheard once. “Sorry, mister Heart of our group, but I don’t think you have any leg to stand on here.”

That makes Mike freeze, though, and he stares at Steve wide-eyed; caught. Exposed. Reminded.

“What did you say?”

“Uh,” Steve falters, not sure where he went wrong — or if he went wrong at all. “I overheard Will calling you that, talking about you to, uhm. Someone. I don’t know. Why, what’s— What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mike says, way too quickly, pulling away again with everything he has, hiding behind those walls once more, and Steve feels whiplash from it.

“Mike,” he says, his voice quiet and gentle as he turns to face him completely.

“No.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says. Promises, as much as he can.

“Shut up!”

“You’re not wrong or bad or broken. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I said, shut up, Steve.”

“You should see the way he looks at you, too. You should go talk to him. You—“

Mike lashes out, finally coming out from behind those walls again, only to shove at Steve, to push him away — hard enough for him to lose his balance and almost fall off the roof, clenching one hand on the edge, the other in the rainwater gutter with a bitten-off curse.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Mike reaches for him immediately, snapping out of whatever anger Steve caused, and pulling him back until he’s safe again, apologising over and over, dead to Steve’s promises that it’s alright. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Steve, I’m so—“

He pulls Mike against his chest, finally reaching out to hold the boy who always pushes people away when they get too close — quite literally, too.

But he doesn’t shove this time, doesn’t move out of Steve’s grasp as the mumbled apologies become heaving sobs.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re so okay, Mike,” Steve tells him over and over as he holds him. The sky above is almost black now and Steve lets Mike cry into his chest.

It takes a while for Mike to calm down, but Steve just holds him through it, ready to let go whenever Mike wants to pull back and snap out of it again — but he never does, and Steve feels a certain kind of affection for the boy that is usually reserved for Lucas or Dustin.

At last, when he’s calmed down, Mike pulls back a little. “Do you really… Does it… Is it really okay?”

Can it be okay? Can I really like both? Is that not just me, being broken and wrong and bad? Will I get the chance to not be alone?

Steve swallows hard, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “Yeah. It’s really okay. ‘N’ I’m with you, yeah? If someone gives you shit for it. Or if you need a reminder.”

And Mike — puffy eyed, snotty nosed, so, so young — looks at him with those trusting eyes and nods, like he believes Steve. Like he trusts him. Like he hopes.

“Just don’t fucking shove me off your roof again.”

Ans just like that, the spell is broken, the tension is lifted, and silence has left them, as Mike almost chokes on a laugh and shoves at him again, lightly this time, before jumping off the roof so Steve can’t retaliate.

“Asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head as he, too, jumps off the roof, dusting off his pants as he watches Mike grabbing his bike. “Hey, Micycle,” he calls, cackling when Mike flips him the bird. “You want a ride back?”

Mike stops, considering as Steve casually flicks his keys into the air and catches them expertly. “What kinda music do you got?”

“The Clash, ‘cause Eddie hates them.”

“Yeah, that’s because they suck!”

Steve snorts, opening the driver’s side door. “Y’know, they’re one of Will’s favourites, actually.”

He watches Mike freeze with a grin on his face, knowing there’s no way the boy would take the bike.

“You’re so annoying,” Mike sighs as he brings his bike close to the garage and carefully lays it on the grass this time before hurrying over to Steve, getting in on the front, rolling his eyes when Steve cackles. “I don’t know why Eddie would date you—“

His words are drowned out when Steve turns up Train in Vain, drumming along on the steering wheel with a shit eating grin. Though the atmosphere is wildly different now, the spell broken and the bubble burst, it’s undeniable that something happened between them. Something big, something important.

Something that makes Mike’s annoyed, long-suffering expression be broken by the smile he’s trying to hide. It makes Steve laugh, elated and feeling something that’s much, much bigger than he himself ever could be.

It’s going to be okay. So, so okay.

Before they know it, they’re pulling up to Steve’s and he turns off the car, is about to get out when Mike makes him still again.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s cool. You and Eddie.”

He smiles, relief and fondness washing over him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” He reaches over and ruffles Mike’s hair — a wild mane these days, but they could make it work with some care and some products. “Now go get your man, lover boy.”

“God, you suck so much, you’re so annoying!”

Steve’s cackling again when the passenger door slams shut and Mike lets himself into his house.

He spots a figure in the dark, their face lighting up when they take a drag of a cigarette — and Steve’s heart stumbles in his chest. He scrambles to get out, attempting to look calm and collected, even though Eddie always manages to see right through him.

“Hello, stranger,” he says, leaning against the wall beside Eddie, hiding away in the dark, where the world won’t see their shoulders touch, or their fingers tentatively playing with each other before they can’t take it no longer and lace their hands, holding on tight.

“Hi,” Eddie breathes. “How’d it go?”

“Fine, I think. But, uhm… I told him. About me. About us. That, uh. That okay?”

Even in the dark, Steve can feel eyes on him, but he just stares ahead, opting instead to give his warm hand a squeeze. He smiles when Eddie’s thumb begins to draw patterns on his palm.

“Hmm. Very. You think they’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, stealing Eddie’s cigarette from his mouth and pulling it between his own lips. “Yeah, I think they will be.”

#steve & mike #steve harrington #mike wheeler #steddie #byler #pre-relationship byler #real hesitant to use the pairing tags tho 🥺😭 #this kinda ran away from me i feel like i’m gonna have to try again with better words but here’s what i got for a first try #i write this whole 3.2k words thing tonight it is 2am i should proofread this but i have a lecture early in the morning i get 5h of sleep #(but only if i fall asleep right this instant which. ain’t happening chief. anyway uh depression era words? #dio words #and yes the bisexual light of this whole scene is important thanks for asking

[afewproblems]

For Dio @flowercrowngods this is late but hopefully a decent little birthday gift! An homage to your beautiful yearning hours.

Steve wakes slowly, registering the hand in his hair first before anything else.

The second is that he's warm, tucked securely into Eddie side. He's talking to Robin, who sits on the recliner across the coffee table, gesturing emphatically in soft tones as he speaks.

They're in Steve's living room still, though it looks like almost everyone else has gone to bed at this point, giving up on their movie night.

The lights are off, the room instead is illuminated by the flickering television in the corner. A movie is playing, but Eddie and Robin pay little attention to it.

Eddie's hand comes up again to card through Steve's hair, so gently that Steve nearly moans at the touch.

They aren't together, but as Steve sinks even further into Eddie's side, he can let himself pretend.

Just for a moment.

He opens his eyes again to find Robin looking at him, she raises a single eyebrow at him before turning her attention back to Eddie --Steve knows they'll be discussing this later, but for now he's grateful she's kept his secret this time.

Steve lets himself drift for a bit, content to breathe in Eddie, the hint of cigarettes and weed that clings to his hair, the old spice deodorant he borrowed from Wayne. They way his voice rumbles slightly as he tries to stay quiet for Steve's sake, it all blends together, warm, nice, loved, safe.

Even if some small part knows he'll wake up alone the next day, that it isn't real, Steve can't help but hold onto this moment with shaking hands.

"I know you’re awake," Eddie hums lowly, drawing Steve out of his thoughts with a start.

Robin's seat is empty now, and the television is off. The only light now sifts through a crack in the window curtains, cutting a silver stream through the room.

"Penny for your thoughts Stevie?" He whispers, his eyes dart between Steve's own.

If only you knew.

Steve clears his throat and begins to sit up, only for Eddie's arm to curl around his shoulders firmly, keeping him in place.

"I think there's a discount if the thought, the uh feeling is mutual, ya know," Eddie says slowly, "like a two for one special".

Eddie winces slightly, looking as though he wants to bolt for the door, but Steve can't help the smile that slowly spreads over his face --even as a baffled laugh threatens to overtake him.

His chest aches with how much he loves this ridiculous man.

"Just kiss already," Robin calls out from the kitchen, making them both freeze where they sit.

His heart hammering in his throat he looks between the kitchen doorway and Eddie, his big brown eyes wide with panic.

All at once, the decision solidifies for Steve.

He takes a deep breath through his nose and releases it slowly through his mouth.

"You heard the lady," Steve hears himself say, but the words sound so far away now as Eddie turns in to face Steve better, as he flushes with an exasperated grin.

Eddie slowly leans in, and Steve lets himself drift once more, basking in the feeling of soft lips against his own and gentle hands in his hair.

#nothing says happy birthday like fluff right? #steddie kisses #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #afewproblems writes #platonic stobin #happy birthday dio

[puppy-steve]

Between discovering the Russian bunker under Starcourt, discovering their plans to get into the Upside Down, being caught by said Russians and tortured, after making sure Dustin and Erica got out of there, Steve was confident that this was an isolated incident.

Hopper had assured them that El had closed the gate at Hawkins Lab, saw it with his own eyes. So maybe if they (he, Robin, Dustin, and Erica) dealt with this one on their own, it wouldn’t be so bad. There were no monsters this time, at least.

Steve had naive hope that the others wouldn’t have to get involved.

But as the four of them are chased through the mall by a big guy with a gun, Steve and Robin still coming down from a truth serum high, his hope turns into dread.

Because a show car is suddenly flung from the floor and into the group of Russians that have them cornered behind a counter in the food court, and there’s only one person he knows with the ability to do that.

They all slowly peer over the counter, and sure enough, El is standing at the forefront, her hand extended in front of her and her nose bleeding. The other kids plus Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie are with her. Steve’s stomach drops and the nauseating feeling from earlier is back, but it’s not from the drugs this time.

Eddie makes a beeline toward him and Robin while Dustin greets the others with enthusiasm, Erica a little starstruck over El.

“What the hell happened?” Eddie demands, eyes flitting frantically all over Steve’s face and taking in the worst of the damage. Steve knows he must look like shit– he can’t see that great out of his left eye and that whole side of his face has gone numb.

Billy bashing his face in last year has nothing on the pain he’s feeling now.

“It’s a long story,” Steve says as he leans heavily into Eddie’s space. Eddie’s hands land on his shoulders and he holds him gently, like he’s afraid of hurting him even more. “I’ll tell you after this is all over.”

“Steve–”

“Teddy.” Steve pulls back and looks him in the eye, as well as he can. He must have not puked everything out of his system like Robin thought because he still feels a little giddy when he reaches up and taps Eddie on the nose. “Later. I promise.”

There’s really no time to say anything else because Robin and Erica need to be brought up to speed about everything and he and Dustin need to be caught up on what’s happening now, and when they are, Steve desperately wishes that it was just the Russians they had to deal with.

Help comes in the form of Hopper, Ms. Byers, and a balding man that Steve’s never met. While they’re all squabbling and trying to come up with a half baked plan, Eddie finds a first aid kit in one of the kitchens and makes Steve sit on a counter so he can try to patch him up. They don’t speak, but Steve grips Eddie’s unoccupied hand while Eddie stands close between his legs.

There isn’t much time between then and everybody splitting off into groups. Scoops Troop plus Eddie all pile into the TODFTHR (“You sure you’re her daddy, sweetheart?” Eddie teases with a smirk and Steve’s glad the bruising hides his blush.)

Everything gets a little fuzzy after they leave the kids at Weathertop. When he’s asked later, he’ll say he remembers hearing that song from that one movie, but he’s not sure if it actually happened. He’s so hyped up on adrenaline, it’s probably the only thing keeping him conscious.

Steve doesn’t remember making the decision to t-bone Billy’s car, but he does remember the horrific scene inside the mall; the Mindflayer screeching and its tentacle-like appendages swinging this way and that. He remembers pelting it with explosives to distract it from attacking El. He looks down and his stomach lurches when he sees the monster go straight through Billy’s chest.

He hears Eddie let out a strangled curse beside him and Steve has to ignore the bile rising in his throat. He knows there’s been casualties; Barb in ‘83, Ms. Byers’ boyfriend last year, however many people the Mindflayer had killed this year.

This is the first death he’s ever seen in person.

He’s still reeling from it when Owens and the military swarm the building once the monster is finally defeated. They’re all pulled in separate directions for medical attention and questioning. Steve feels downright miserable, sitting in the back of an ambulance with Robin, a shock blanket over his shoulders. He squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” he says.

Robin takes a shaky breath. “Yeah. I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of it. I think for once in my life, I’m speechless.”

Eddie finds them after he’s been looked over and Steve opens his arms to pull him in for a hug, wrapping both of them in the blanket. Eddie presses a kiss to his forehead and Steve sags against him. They take a moment to breathe each other in, basking in the fact that they’re both alive.

“They want to take us to the hospital,” Steve says. “They’re pretty sure I have a concussion but they want to run tests to make sure there isn’t any other damage.” He nods to Robin. “And they wanna keep us under 24 hour observation 'cause of the drugs.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes, eyes sliding shut.

Steve frowns and uses the corner of the blanket to brush against Eddie’s cheek comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a grimace. “This probably wasn’t how you were expecting to spend your birthday.”

Eddie turns his head and kisses his fingers. “No, baby,” he says. “Absolutely nothin’ for you to be sorry about. Had me and Wayne worried sick when you didn’t come home last night, though. I was close to callin’ Hopper when Lucas started screaming code red over the radio.”

Steve doesn’t want to think about how that probably worried them even more. “Your present’s in my car,” he says instead. “You can’t have it until I’m discharged, though. I wanna see your face when you open it.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “That just makes me even more curious, sweetheart.”

He pinches Steve’s side playfully, but gently. Steve stifles a giggle and leans into him more, very aware of how Robin’s watching them like a hawk.

“No peeking,” Steve warns, pointing a finger in Eddie’s face. “It’s a surprise.”

Eddie only nips at his finger. Steve doesn’t even blink. Sighing, Eddie releases his finger and marks a cross over his heart. “I promise I won’t do any snooping.”

Steve pats his cheek. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a shit liar, Munson?”

They break into giggles, their heads bent forward, and Eddie would’ve leaned in for a kiss if it weren’t for Robin clearing her throat rather loudly. Steve curls into Eddie’s front, Eddie’s arm going around his shoulders. God, he’d give anything to be at home and asleep in their bed.

“I’m still very confused about this whole thing,” Robin says, waving a hand in their direction. “I just fought a monster from a whole other dimension, but this is probably the biggest shocker of my life.”

“Strange things follow this group around like a shadow,” Eddie says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. And for him, it is. “You better get used to it, Buckley, 'cause you’re one of us now.”

written and originally posted for @flowercrowngods birthday 🤍 dio is an absolute treasure and a great friend to have and is my #1 gseb stan. happy belated birthday!!! 💙

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee?

#cj talks #gseb #steddie #steddie ficlet #dio 🤍 #steddie fic #cj writes

[milf-harrington]

i wrote this in like an hour so please forgive the quality but here's some gentle steddie set somewhere in the early 90's mentions of canonical violence and trauma, but otherwise just a gentle morning scene

5:30 am found Eddie Munson on the back porch steps, watching their liver spotted dalmatian patrol the fence-line with her usual level of seriousness. Ronnie moved like a spectre in the half-light, her edges all blurred and smudged until she stopped to sniff at a weed and became solid again.

The cherry of his cigarette flared bright on his inhale as he brought his knees further into his chest, feet crossed over one another like he could trap the warmth in if he just curled up tight enough. With autumn creeping closer, the mornings were getting crisp.

Luckily, his ears were warm under both his hair and the hood of his jumper,but his legs were prickly with goosebumps thanks to his habit of grabbing whatever was on the floor. This time it was Steve's basketball shorts, the one's that used to be trackpants until he'd taken scissors to them in the summer of '88.

They definitely weren't suited for cooler weather, but they were comfortable and Eddie kind of liked the distraction the chill brought. It was harder to get stuck in memories of snapping bones and dead motors and being eaten by bats when your toes were trying not to freeze off.

Eddie sniffled without tears and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, bringing his smoke back to his lips for another drag. His hands were shaking, but it had nothing to do with the weather.

He'd dreamed of Chrissy again.

The problem with an overactive imagination, is that it could always make your nightmares worse.

After weeks of stress free dreaming, he'd wound up back in his trailer last night, but this time he'd known Chrissy's favourite song. Playing it hadn't worked, and instead the bats had come pouring from her mouth like it was it's own gate. They'd swarmed him before he even had a chance to run, breaking free through the windows and those damn vents before tearing him and Hawkins apart.

He'd woken in his and Steve's bed, in the house they bought with their shady government money, sweat slicked and on fire. His skin was tight and itchy as he'd crept out of bed, tapping the dog awake to take her outside and grabbing his smokes from the dresser.

Ronnie chose then to drop her favoured rope at his feet, head ducked and eyes flitting from between him and the toy hopefully, tail wagging. Eddie secured his cigarette between his lips so he could distract her with a scratch behind her ears, and grabbed the toy with his free hand before she could react. She'd turn it into a game of tug-o-war if he wasn't careful, and it was impossible to ask her to drop it when it took both hands just to keep hold of the thing.

The rope sailed across the backyard in a high arc, and Ronnie almost tripped over her own paws in her haste to get to it.

A few more throws later, the sky was brighter and the back door opened with a familiar wheeze behind him.

Eddie didn't turn as he threw Ronnie's toy again, but listened to Steve quietly walk closer and settle down beside him with a soft grunt.

A moment later, his cigarette was stolen from right between his fingers, but when he turned to complain, Eddie was met with a steaming mug shaped like a bear. He took it with hands that were steadier than they'd been 10 minutes ago.

Steve, meanwhile, had tucked the cigarette between his own lips like he used too when he was trying to seem cool and impressive (before they got their shit together), and unfolded the blanket he'd brought out with him.

It settled over both of their shoulders while Eddie sipped his coffee, feeling it's journey all the way down to his stomach. He watched Ronnie register Steve's presence and come bounding over.

She stopped in front of them with the rope toy swinging from her mouth, tail picking up enough speed to move her hips with it when Steve signaled for her to drop it.

Steve generally wasn't verbal this early in the morning, preferring to sign until the world felt awake enough for voices. Luckily their dog was deaf too, even if she was cheeky about ignoring signals by pretending not to see them.

Finally, Ronnie relented, dropping the rope between Steve's ridiculous old-man slippers as he passed the cigarette back to Eddie. She graciously accepted her vigorous head scratches as reward.

Eddie huffed a laugh and tapped off the excess ash, taking another drag and waiting until the dog was tearing off after her toy to pass it back to Steve.

He accepted the smoke with a smile and didn't ask why Eddie was awake so early, or why he hadn't bothered to dress warmer. Just made sure the blanket was wrapped around him properly, and pressed a kiss to his temple over the top of his hood.

Eddie sighed from somewhere deep and tired inside him and let his head drop onto Steve's shoulder, feeling it drop as he exhaled smoke towards the rising sun.

#hoh steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #i really want a dalmatian but i'm currently in no position to get one so i gave steddie one instead #im imagining that they adopted her from shelter sometime after vecna is defeated #eddie wanted to name her something metal but steve didn't want her to have a weird name so they compromised on 'ronnie' #which is cute and also the name of dio's lead singer #steddie fluff #sort of #domestic steddie #my writing

[nickgoesinsane]

desperate

dio brando x reader

cw: nsfw (minors dni), sub!dio, dom!reader, gn!reader - amab, dirty talk, mean!reader, part 3!dio, dio being a slut, degradation kink, size kink, begging, choking, groping, spit kink, breeding kink, creampie, dacryphilia, obsessive and possessive dio, etc.

notes: a continuation to this

word count: 1170

“Why are you such a slut?” You sigh in feigned frustration, thrusting a third lubed finger inside Dio’s asshole. They slip inside without trouble, and his insides hungrily cling to your fingers. He moans into the pillows, spine arched enticingly as he rocks back against you. 

It’s almost unfair, how effortlessly beautiful he looks in the flickering candlelight. You curl your fingers, pressing them against his prostate, and his body shudders. Dio lifts his head to moan your name, his cock drooling precum onto the expensive silk sheets. His blond curls are mussed, far messier than usual from you pulling him by his hair to the bedroom. 

“Walking around with those fat tits out for everyone to see.” You continue, and his  asshole clenches around your fingers at your words, making you scoff. “Whore.”

Dio glances at you from over his shoulder, the gold of his eyes a thin ring around his blown pupils, “Yours.” He nearly purrs in reply. You roll your eyes and press harder against his prostate, if only to watch his smug expression twist in pleasure. 

He whines unhappily when you take your fingers out, only to gasp when you manhandle him onto his back. Dio eagerly lifts his legs, using his hands to spread his ass for you, and bites down on his bottom lip in eager anticipation. His eyes are glued to your cock as you take it in your hand, pouring more lube on it. Heat rises to his cheeks, his expression enamored at the thought that even when you’re being mean, you make sure he’s comfortable. 

You press the fat head of your cock against his twitching asshole and bend down to latch your lips onto one of his nipples. Dio arches his back, pushing into your mouth with a moan. His arms wrap around you, and your hands grip his thighs to press them against his torso. “Fuck me,” He pants, hips squirming in an attempt to get you to slip into him. “My love, please. Fuck— ah!” Dio gasps when you bite down on his chest, your teeth breaking through the skin as you suck hard. 

“Open.” You command when you let go, your lips stained red, and he opens his mouth. You hollow your cheeks and spit directly onto his tongue, and his eyes nearly cross as he moans at the taste of his own blood mixed with your saliva. His Adam’s apple bobs harshly as he swallows, and precum pools onto his abs. “Good slut.” You say with a condescending smile and give his pillowy tits a hard squeeze. 

“Please, please, please—” Dio begs, thick lashes clumping together with desperate tears. 

You grip his throat tightly and slip only the tip of your cock inside him. “Are you that hungry for my cock, you shameless whore? I bet you’d cream around the tip of my dick if I told Vanilla Ice to come in here and watch.” You taunt, and a stream of precum splatters over his torso. Dio moans breathily, and you dig your nails into his skin. “Answer me, you fucking slut.” 

“Ngh, yes!” Dio’s shaky hands grab your wrist, his face red, “I love your cock. You always make me feel so good, so full. Leave me gaping and dripping with your cum. Want them to know you’re mine, only mine— please!” 

You pelvis slaps against his ass as you thrust your cock inside his hole, and Dio throws his head back with a silent scream. His eyes roll as he comes all over his stomach, streaks of white splattering all the way up to his chin, but his cock remains hard. You laugh, pushing his thighs against his chest as you start up a merciless pace. Loud moans spill from his bruised lips with every pump of your hips, his asshole squelching lewdly with every plunge of your cock. 

“I can feel you—” Dio whines, slipping a hand between you to press against his abdomen, “right here…” 

“Gonna fill you up, Dio,” You promise, giving his neck a squeeze. “Gonna fuck my cum into you, again and again until you can’t keep it inside.” A strangled sob leaves his mouth at the thought, and his asshole clenches around your cock. “I’m gonna breed you like a bitch.” An idea comes to your mind, maybe a little dangerous, but it makes you grin. “Can you imagine it? Your belly swollen with an heir, your fat tits dripping with milk.”

“Yes!” He gasps, hips rising to meet your thrusts, “Yes, yes, yes!” 

You draw back until the tip of your cock remains, “Beg.” 

Dio’s chest heaves as he pants, his pale skin shining with sweat, and overwhelmed tears spill down his face. “Please!” He hiccups pitifully, “Please fill me with your cum. Fuck a baby into me!” There’s something concerningly wild and hungry in his eyes, but it turns you on as much as it worries you.

“Mm, gladly.” You whisper, leaning down to press your lips against his. The kiss is messy, wet with tears and spit, and his strong legs wrap around your hips as your cock pushes inside him once more. He moans into your mouth, hungrily suckling on your tongue, and threads his fingers into your hair to keep you there. His body rocks into the mattress from the force of your thrusts, the cum from his previous orgasm smearing onto your skin while his weeping erection ruts against your stomach. 

Your lips part with a wet smack, “Take it.” You groan, burying yourself to the hilt inside his hole. You come harder than you have in a while, your weight pinning him down to the bed as you pump rope after rope of cum inside him.

Dio chants your name like a prayer as he comes again, legs tightening around your body as his asshole tightens like a vice around your cock as if to milk every drop. “Thank you… thank you…” He babbles gratefully, reverently running his hands over your skin as if worshiping a god. There’s so much cum that it oozes out from around the base of your cock to drip down your balls and his asscheeks. 

You sigh in satisfaction, admiring the view of his creamy and abused hole as you slowly withdraw. The puffy rim clenches as he tries to keep most of it inside. His eyebrows draw together unhappily as your cock leaves him, and he pouts up at you like the brat he is. “Let’s go take a bath.” You murmur affectionately, pushing his damp curls away from his face to kiss his sweaty forehead. 

Dio pushes you down on your back, throwing a leg over your hip and cuddles into you. “Later.” He says, lazily mouthing at your throat. You hum, gently running the tip of your nails along his spine. “...I want a baby.” Dio suddenly mumbles against your skin, reaching down to wrap his fingers around your wet cock, and you close your eyes with a sigh. 

You fucking knew it.

#‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ nick writes ! #jjba brainrot #dom reader #dom!reader #top reader #top!reader #sub character #sub dio brando #dio brando x reader #dio brando #sub jjba #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #amab reader #n/sfw #n/s/f/w #should i write an mpreg sequel to this? #dio would 100% find a way to get pregnant

[iamasaddie]

Pedro Pascal as popular raccoon memes pt.2

thank you to @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the perfect Din meme

[ comment if you liked them, pt. 3 out tomorrow ]

#i did that instead of writing PIMP #pedro pascal #pedro pascal meme #iamasaddie random #javi gutierrez #zach wellison #din djarin #oberyn martell #dio morrissey #tim rockford #silva strange way of life #meemaw #pedro pascal snl

[tillman]

The writing in part 1 of jojos specifically really gets to me because dio is such a fascinating villain for a story with such heavy themes of nature vs nurture and humanity and what not but also they do the “you disagree with this mans morals. He puts dogs into furnaces” bit and constantly go “he was born evil hes the devil its in his Blood” its so fucking funny. I dont know im genuinely obsessed with how poorly it fumbles its very few themes. And I know thats not the point. But its just a hysterical reading to me.

#its like genuinely astounding how it tries to take dio somewhere with the nature vs nurture thing. #and then ends up going ITS IN HIS BLOOOOOOD !!!! like lmao. ok. #txt #I dont know I think dio is too fucking good of a character. god damn. #part 3 doesnt even bother with writing dio as like a foil to the joestars in a thematic narrative sense #just in a very literal narrative sense. and thats fine. its fun. maybe it goes harder in the last half I dont recall #but its just hysterical how p1 really wants to lean into it. and then just kinda stumbles its way into HES WVILLLLL #GUYS YOU HATE HIMMMM HE BURNS DOGGGS HES WVIL like its just comedic

[dio-icarticaae]

Work in Progress Wednesday - Coday edition!

Snippet of the second of hopefully three fics for Coday this 2/2/24! (@codyday2224 )

This is a fic on how Cody got his name - using the story of why George Lucas named him Commander Cody in the first place.

"So, Cody, I've been wondering; where did you find your name?" Rex asked from where he was sitting across from Cody as they slogged through the Force-forsaken flimsiwork that the Senate thought the clone commanders should be doing. Cody looked up from his pad and stared dead-eyed at Rex. He let out an aggrieved sigh. "Why do you keep asking this?" "Because I'm sure it's an interesting story." "I found it in a book of names natborns use to name babies. It's not that interesting." Cody said. Rex rolled his eyes. "You really expect me to believe that?" "It's the truth!"

#commander cody #cody #captain rex #rex #fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #work in progress #work in progress wednesday #coday #writing #my writing #dio writes

[beedreamscape]

When Augustine is being genuine, he calls her Joy. Always Joy.

All the bitting, the fighting, the snipping.

Joy.

Somewhere in the ether Cristabel and Alfred are tangled up, looking down at their myriad long play, hearing the rumors of who they were what they could've done to save him save her, if they were given five minutes, five words, five days... it's a broken record.

They were both beyond salvation, nobody likes a peace maker.

And yet, at the end of it, he calls her Joy and his mouth is dripping with honey and his chest painted with the desecrated remains of her heart.

And she calls him Augustine, all nine letters, and again very softly, pleadingly. Mean souled little man, that person, miserable ass, man-shaped worm, chattering imbecile, vile condescending son of a bitch. Augustine, Augustine, you promised.

He knows her like he knows his own soul like she knows the sternum, he knows her violence like the taste of blood in his mouth, knows her taste like the taste of in-season melons, like the taste of lives past.

She's quick enough in the draw to know every nasty little inch of the Saint of Patience's body down to the millimeter down to the composition of his genetic code down to the taste of his skin.

There's no practical application in that.

She needs not to wrap her arms around him to perceive the marrow of his bones. She needs not to see him to know it's his lungs and his lips and his breath...

He smells like nicotine. Yuck. Pfaugh. She will stain her hands so his remain clean.

My girl, my child, my chick, my dove.

My Joy.

I'm profoundly tired of looking at your face, sick of stirring in the storm of your eyes, I'll eat Cristabel's rotten soul at the red table of your rotten-peach heart instead, I'll call your ribcage my tomb, the pillows of your lungs my grave.

May I burn in your pyre, may our ashes be mingled and fuel a lonely star in the furthest loneliest part of the universe where none can bother our slumber.

Corrosive effervescence, poisonous delight, drunken familiarity.

Shush, my kiwi, my pipsqueak, my bleeding-heart dove, let us rest easy now.

Joy will show you what fervid decided devoted passion looks like - one last crack of this frail wishbone - Mercy will teach you a lesson in forgiveness.

#Or M- and A-. Mercymorn and Augustine. Patience and Joy. are so in love with each other they can't even be in the same room #mercistine #mercymorn x augustine #dios apate #mercymorn the first #augustine the first #the locked tomb #htn spoilers #flash fic #writing #nonsense also

[rougepancake]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒

FT. Dio Brando; AFAB! Reader

PLAYLIST ; WORD COUNT: 2.8k

My submission for @dolcezzzza’s cabin collab event

WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. Vampire Dio, rough sex, marking, Dio’s sexy vampire fangs, extremely dubious consent, creepy Dio, non-consensual touching, noncon themes, gore, religious & sacrilegious themes, Dio being treated as a god, slight soft sex??, implied breeding, implied objectification

SUMMARY: You and your… rather odd friend get snowed in a cabin together in the middle of summer. What you don’t know is that he’s withholding some rather interesting information from you. Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

Snow. What a beautiful sight it is when it’s falling from the sky. How gorgeous it can be when the light reflects off of it just right. It’s glorious in its own right, as is life.

Regardless of the time of season, snow perseveres. It thrives at the tops of mountains in the coldest of temperatures, shining brightly at those who seek it out.

Snow is the most enjoyable in a cabin. Where one can do as they please and sit up in their chair with a book and a cup of coffee.

That’s exactly why you and your friend booked a cabin in Lapland, Finland.

Though, for whatever reason, your friend was incredibly sensitive to the sunlight. He claimed that he would simply burn alive if he were to ever come into contact with it. This ‘allergy’ of his was the main problem for you while you were trying to book a cabin. Because how in the world were you supposed to find a cabin with little to no sunlight??

“It’s a shame that Jonathan and Erina couldn’t join us.” You looked up from your book and over at your friend, who was sitting in the dark corner of the room, watching the sunset in disgust. He ignored you completely, his eyes fixed on the window. “Oh. Do you want me to close the curtains?”

“It’s snowing.”

“It is indeed.”

A long, pregnant pause followed.

“It’s summer.”

“We’re in Lapland.”

It always snows in Lapland, he ought to know this by now. Actually, he simply just ought to know better. You were the one that paid for the whole thing, and he didn’t seem to respect that one bit. A part of you wanted to think that he expected it of you, but you shut it down immediately. He was your friend. And as much of a douche bag as he was, you didn’t take him as the type to take advantage of you. He wasn’t supposed to take advantage of you.

Your friend sighed heavily and rose to his feet, retreating further into the darkness. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk this over with you. He was acting like it was your fault that it was snowing, when, clearly, there was no way for such a thing to be possible. His attitude towards it was really starting to get on your nerves, especially since this vacation was his idea.

“Dio come back,” you frowned as he left. The sun was now setting, which meant he would want to go out soon. Though, you didn’t know why. You never knew why. He’d often leave in the middle of the night, coming and going without saying a word. “Come now, Dio. We can wait for the sun to set together.” You watched him slide on his coat and reach for his boots. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing. I want to make sure I can leave later.” With a huff, he leaned against the wall and forced his boots onto his feet. “I do not wish to be stuck here with some harlot. Especially when-” He cut himself off, avoiding your gaze. It was bold of him to call you a harlot when you were the one with the money.

And boy did Dio love money.

“Especially when what, Dio? Do not forget that you’re the one who wanted to come on vacation with me. I’m not going to listen to you bitch and moan like a child, do you understand?” You placed a hand on your hip, your eyes following his movements. He scoffed and shrugged off your comment, his hand resting on the doorknob. He could feel the cold through the wooden door, and he frowned at the thought. Would he really be stuck here with you?

“Don’t speak to me like that.” Dio opened the door and was met with a wall of snow, one that towered over the doorway and ensured that you were stuck with the blonde. Silence swept over the two of you as you took in the awkwardness of your situation. He was clearly upset, slamming the door shut with a grunt before turning to meet your gaze. “Why didn’t you check the forecast?” He growled. His tone of voice caused you to shiver, and your breath caught in your throat. Why was he so mad all of a sudden? What plans did he have that were so damn important that he just had to leave right now?

“Why didn’t you do it yourself? You’re the one who stays cooped up in his room all day and doesn’t leave until night.” You returned his tone, giving him a frustrated look as you spoke. “What do you even do at night, hm? Flaunt around to get laid? I don’t wanna hear it from you. Actually, I don’t wanna hear anything from you for the rest of the trip. I’m the one who paid for it, so suck it up,” you scoffed and stormed off. Your book was waiting for you, as was your peaceful vacation. You weren’t about to let his mood ruin your day.

You could feel his eyes on you as you walked back to the den of the cabin. They practically bore holes into your back, searing straight through your clothing along with your skin. What you had said definitely struck a nerve.

“I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it,” you mumbled to yourself as you reached for your book once again, taking a moment to admire the beautiful summer snow outside of your cabin. Though, the thought of reading now bored you. In fact, you’d much rather chat with that jerk that you called a friend, but he was in too much of a bad mood to allow such a thing to happen. It was a shame that Jonathan hadn’t come, maybe then he’d be able to help you deal with Dio. Or at least he could help you learn how to appease him.

With a huff, you rose from your seat once again. You wanted to head to the kitchen, but you didn’t overly feel like cooking, so you opted out and headed to the conservatory. The snow made the room look brighter as it clung to the windows, reflecting the setting sun beautifully. Damn that snow, leaving you trapped with Dio. What did he even do at night anyways? Was he some form of vampire?? You scoffed at the idea. Vampires didn’t exist, after all. They were merely tall tales created to scare tourists away from historical areas. Nothing more, nothing less.

Though, there were many times where you found yourself questioning if Dio was even a human. It was all in the way that he acted. He carried himself in a way that simply exuded confidence, far more than any other person you’d met. He was incredibly strong, and way more intelligent than Jonathan. Sure they sound like normal things, making him sound like some random try hard from England, but to you that wasn’t the case.

In your mind, Dio Brando was an enigma, about as well understood as God. No one really questioned his actions, because no one was brave enough to challenge him. And it surely didn’t help that he was as intimidating as he was beautiful. His body looked as if it were chiseled and sculpted by the finest of artists, as each muscle was defined in such a sickeningly gorgeous manner that made him hard to ignore.

Regardless of how you felt, you knew that it would be best to push your feelings to the side. Sure he was hot, but he was also an inconsiderate prick. About the only time he cared about anything was if it affected his wellbeing. Though, you and Jonathan were used to it by now.

The more you thought, the more guilty you felt for getting upset with him. It’s not his fault that he can’t go out in the sun, so why blame him for it? That wasn’t fair of you. It was a low blow, really. Maybe you should apologize—

Just then, a rather loud thud came from upstairs, startling you out of your thoughts. The sun had completely set by now, with the full moon shining brightly in the sky behind you. It alarmed you to hear something so disruptive. And as your panic set in, you made your way up the stairs, praying that you wouldn’t find your friend dead on the floor.

“Dio? Are you feeling alright?” You called out, peeking up into the hallway anxiously. Silence met you in response, only to be interrupted by a loud groan from Dio’s bedroom. “Hello? Dio please answer me-“ You scrambled up the stairs, your eyes wide. All you could really hear was the thrumming of your own heart, as it was loud enough to overpower your racing mind.

“Go away.” His voice rang out and you froze. What was with his tone? Had he injured himself? Either way, it drove you to get closer to his room.

“C-Come on, Dio! The most you could do is let me help you!” You paused. What were you saying? You didn’t care about him that much, did you? Hesitantly, you placed your hand on the doorknob to his room. “Dio?” You were answered with another groan, this one seemingly more strained than the last. It was beginning to make you nervous. “I’m coming in-!”

“Did you not hear me wench?!” He shouted at you, his voice seemingly farther away than before. “I said go away!”

His tone caught you off guard, causing you to shake. Was his voice… wavering? No- it couldn’t be. Dio would never show any form of weakness to you, regardless of how close you are. He knew better than that.

You frowned and glared at the door, lowering your hand from the doorknob with a frown.“Fine! Fucking be that way you dick!” You stomped your foot and huffed angrily. Why did you even bother? All your kindness would do was backfire, so there was no point in trying to be nice to him. But you tried anyways, which upset you further.

The sudden sound of his bedroom door flying off its hinges caused you to scream loudly, pure terror spreading throughout your body and forcing you to freeze. His heavy breathing along with yours echoed in the hallway, his heavy steps echoing loudly within your ears. That strength… it was inhuman.

“What did you just call me?” His voice was low, just quiet enough to be menacing. “Don’t be shy, say it again bitch.” He was behind you now, bent over so his lips could hover above the skin on your neck. This was a side of Dio that you had never seen before, and it frightened you. He was much bolder than usual, his hands wandering along your sides as he waited patiently for you to respond to him.

“I said you’re a dick, a real son of a b-bitch,” you didn’t know what came over you, and your body tensed further when his long fingers caressed your throat. You felt like a woman in a medieval painting, cradled by a monster who was too beautiful to be the same creature as you.

“You know, your veins are really something…” Dio trailed off into silence. It was incredibly hard to ignore his lustful tone, and it took everything you had to not turn around and meet his lidded eyes. His hand tightened around your throat, forcing a whine to pass through your lips. You couldn’t believe this was real. Was he really this close to you? Honestly, under different circumstances, you wouldn’t have minded.

For Dio Brando was simply that divine of a being.

“Your blood must taste as amazing as it smells…” The words caught you further off guard, and if you could, you would have run away and never looked back. But why? Dio was supposed to be your friend, someone you could trust to protect you if need be. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. It just didn’t feel right. Even if he was a monster, it didn’t feel right.

Your instinct, nine times out of ten, was right. And you should have listened to it and run, but as Dio led you into his bedroom, you knew it was over. Lines had been crossed, and each step he took dragged you closer to the point of no return. The regret pooling in your stomach was almost great enough to drown out the pain of Dio’s fangs breaking your skin. His sharp nails tore through your clothing, and he wasted no time in tossing them across the room. With every move he made, a plea escaped you, but you argued in vain. Dio couldn’t have cared less, you knew this.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve dreamt of this moment?” He whispered into your ear, his left hand trailing down your bare stomach at a tauntingly slow pace. It stopped at your core, hovering over it as if to prove a point.

His fingers slipped into you with ease, relentlessly stretching your cunt so that you stood a chance at being able to take him. Horrible things were whispered to you, things that made you tighten around his fingers helplessly.

“H-Hah- Dio- don’t stop, please—“ You grabbed his arm and squirmed, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt your high building up. It was an all too familiar feeling, and it was stolen from you within seconds by the monster behind you.

“That’s Lord Dio, to you, got it?” His fangs grazed your neck at the same time his thumb discovered your clit. A whine escaped you, loud and shameful. You couldn’t even form a single coherent sentence, your mind going fully numb as your hips bucked upwards for more friction.

“Yes-! Lord D-Dio, I- ah-“ His thumb pressed down harshly onto your clit, purposefully interrupting you. At this point, there was no telling what his goal was.

“Now, where were we?” Dio rolled you over effortlessly, shoving your face into the pillows with a shit eating grin. “Ah yes, I was about to make you my bitch.” He forced his cock into the heat of your cunt, a low groan escaping him in the process.

Screams and cries echoed throughout the cabin, a cruel reminder that you were alone with the mythical Dio. Yet you couldn’t seem to drown in your remorse, not when he was making you feel so horribly good. It was almost as if you were thankful that he fucked like the god he pretended to be.

A loud groan left him, and he threw his head back in pleasure. His lips were parted in bliss, sweat coating his forehead as his hair fell into his face.

“My my, you took me so well…” He released his grip on you and allowed you to turn around and look at him. His eyes flickered with lust at the sight of your fucked out expression. It was as if the sight of your beauty had stunned him into silence. Was he just now noticing how gorgeous you were?

“L-Lord Dio…” You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. His cock was still buried deep inside you, causing a bulge to form on your stomach. It was something you could get high off of.

He leaned in quickly, his eyes shining brightly as he observed you. How many people had he slept with again? And yet, not one of them was able to make him feel this way.

“I could make you a goddess, you know,” Dio whispered, his tone anything but soft. His breathing grew to be heavier than usual, as if he was waiting for you to agree so he could continue blowing your back out. “You would be my queen…”

His hips began to move once more, slower than before so he could feel you better. His eyes didn’t dare to leave yours, his fangs peeking over his lips as he fucked you.

“From now on, you shall be mine. Got it?” His voice was low and quiet, soft grunts escaping him here and there as he picked up his pace. He had reduced you to a whining mess, objectifying you in just about one of the best ways possible.

You thought, at least.

“Let me fill you with my seed, you filthy being,” he called out, his thrusts sloppy and erratic. “Bear my child, give me an heir.”

Rumor has it that what happens in the cold mountains of Lapland is to stay there, forever lost amongst it’s beautiful scenery. No one speaks about what they’ve seen, for they immediately forget once they lay their eyes upon the glorious yearlong snow.

Ah, snow. It gleams underneath the summer sun, as if to smile at its enemies. How beautiful it can be in its perseverance, spreading its numbing cold to the areas around it effortlessly.

Snow is the most enjoyable in a cabin, where one can kick up their feet and read a book beside the fireplace with a cup of coffee.

That’s exactly why you and your friend booked a cabin in Lapland, Finland.

#feel like I got a little too poetic here but oh well #not me listening to beautifully orchestrated music while writing this #I’m channeling my inner mozart or something but it’s inspiring for sure #x reader #jojos bizzare adventure x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #dio x reader #dio brando #dio brando x reader #jjba dio #dio smut #jjba smut #jjba x reader #vampire x reader #vampire #vampire smut

[dios-favourite-simp]

"aww" Dio purrs, laughing snarkily at your feeble attempts to ride him properly "the little whore can't even ride their master to save their life,"

He grabs your butt, holding you in place, and begins pounding his hips roughly, stealing your breath from your throat at the sudden white bolt of pleasure through your belly.

"or do you just prefer to be fucked senseless like the little toy you are?" he growls into your ear. His cock pounds sloppily in and out, your broken moans in tandem with the roll of his hips.

#dio brando #dio #dio brando smut #dio x reader #drabble #n s f w warning #i will get to requests soon im sorry writing is hard #randomly thought of this and it was too good not to write down #i wont him

[flowercrowngods]

It's unreal. The light is streaming in through the windows, the curtains still drawn to block out the midday heat, tinging their living room in golden hues that match so well with the light grey fabric of their new sofa.

Eddie should probably snap out of it and head over to the windows, open the curtains and let the light in, and with it the warmth and fresh air of a surprisingly wonderful day.

It's March, he hears the echoes of Steve's giddy voice a week or two ago. Everything's better in March.

Eddie didn't agree then, and he's not sure he agrees now, but he must admit there is something magical about this moment.

Still he remains rooted to the spot, leather jacket heavy on his shoulders, his hands hidden in the sleeves of it, just in case this really is a dream. Just in case someone will come in and snap him out of it, take away their couch and leave an eviction notice.

It's dumb. But Eddie doesn't deal well with things that are unreal. Things that he knows aren't meant for him. Things that he knows he only gets in this one play-through of his life, while millions of other Eddie Munsons are out there in parallel universes who never get to even lay eyes upon a couch this nice. Let alone buy it. From their own real adult money.

It's a corner sofa, the fabric light grey, and he remembers it being harder than it looks. Solid. Just perfect for both their fucked up backs, scar tissue pulling if they sit wrong for too long, phantom pain and muscle aches coming in hot when all they want is to just relax and enjoy a lazy evening.

Eddie bites his lip, trailing his eyes along the pristine fabric, the pillows lining the back of it, the flawless stitches keeping everything in shape.

They have a couch now. A sofa.

It's so fucking unreal.

He drops to the floor right then and there, sitting with his back against the wall, and never once taking his eyes off their sofa. It feels important to look at it for a while. It feels important to wait for Steve. It feels... It feels like maybe he'll ruin everything if he goes and sits on it now.

And it feels really fucking big.

At some point he hears the front door opening, their lock going so smoothly now that Steve fixed it with some graphite, and the sound makes Eddie smile. That's another thing that's unreal. The key barely making any noise, the lock not rattling, the door not creaking and cracking. Eddie pulls a strand of hair between his lips, the smile feeling too silly for this room, for this home, for everything he gets to have now.

For all the tiny things that matter now. All the tiny things he gets to have, turning the key's smooth slide into an allegory of everything he ever wanted but never dared to hope for.

The slide of curtains, the click-click-click of the window handle being turned to let the air in. The breeze of fresh spring air dancing around his nose.

It's all a little much. It's so fucking addicting.

And then Steve. Socked feet coming to a stop beside him, a hand landing in his hair, a voice that's so endlessly warm and fond and maybe a little worried sounding from above him, "Hi, angel."

"Hi," Eddie says, tearing his eyes away from their couch to meet Steve's. The sunlight from the windows hugs him, making him glow. Eddie smiles. He smiles and smiles and never wants to stop.

Steve hums as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie weaves his arm through Steve's legs, holding onto his knee.

Everything feels a little less silly now. Like every time Steve doesn't question his little moments of sitting on the floor and just staring at things.

"We have a couch now," Eddie says, because it feels important to point out. Because Steve isn't looking at it.

"We do," he hums. "I got the call earlier. Thanks for helping with that, baby."

Eddie nods again, leaning his cheek against Steve's knee and trailing the couch again with his eyes. It looks brighter now that the curtains don't turn the room into something out of a sepia-type movie anymore.

Steve's hands comb through his hair, massaging his scalp a little with his nails. It's nice. It's warm. It's pretty.

And it's so unreal.

"I'm twenty-four," Eddie says then, and some part of him wants to carve that into the fabric. He won't. But maybe he should carve it somewhere else. "And I own a couch. It's a little crazy."

Steve comes to sit down beside him, their shoulders pressed together and he links their hands, resting them in his lap after a brushes a kiss to Eddie's knuckles.

"Why's it crazy, angel?"

He shrugs, resting his head on Steve's shoulders and curling into his warmth some more.

"Most of my life I never thought either of those would happen, y'know."

Another hum, followed by another kiss to the crown of his head. Another smile.

"But you did it," Steve whispers. "You made it. And we've got a couch now."

"We've got a couch now."

Saying it out loud doesn't make it feel any realer. It only makes his heart race and his eyes prick.

"I love you," he says, finally looking away from pretty grey fabric to meet prettier hazel eyes. "I love you so much."

Steve leans in, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you. Thank you for buying a couch with me."

And it occurs to Eddie then that Steve understands him. Sitting there on the floor with him, hearing his words and listening to those unsaid, understanding Eddie on such a fundamental level that it should be scary. And it is, sometimes.

But he's not scared now. Because they have a couch. And they have pretty curtains that keep the light outside and still turn the room into something magical. And they have a lock that only needed a bit of graphite to let the keys glide smoothly.

And they have each other.

They stay on the floor until Steve's stomach growls, and they eat dinner with their backs against the couch and Eddie's feet in Steve's lap. They hold each other close after dinner, just breathing each other in as the breeze blows around them.

In the end, Eddie is the first to sit on the couch, with Steve standing between his legs and giving him a scalp massage in silence. In the end, Eddie buries his face in Steve's stomach to hide the tears, and Steve lets him.

Because this is real. And he gets to have this. They both do.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid@hotluncheddie @gutterflower77@auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important@stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic@bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

#steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie #steve x eddie #listen i have a couch now and if you know me you know that i get really fucking emo about the tiniest things #i fixed my lock with graphite btw when i was blackout drunk. it still fills me with so much joy #sorry tag list gang idk what this is but it wanted out #i could write fics/poems/whatever about the most mundane things until the end of my days tbh so today we have: couch #dio words #dio's steddie ramblings #the hurt/comfort is implied like you'll catch it when you reflect on the words but most importantly this is healing. and comfort. and fluff #and so much love and understanding it makes me wanna throw up

[guyyuri]

Jonathan saw Dio as his brother and nothing but that, cared for him as strictly platonically as any other member of the joestar family; however Dio did not reciprocate that at ALL. It's an uncomfortable topic to broach, but if he is not the textbook example of "anime villain with a weird homoerotic obsession with the protagonist" I don't know who is. He didn't spout all that shit about intertwining their souls and literally stealing Jonathan's entire body or whateva for people to not acknowledge this.

These concepts can coexist.

Yes this is weird and immoral. Dio is weird and bad for thinking that way, he is a villain and he does weird evil things.

Acknowledging it doesn't make you weird or wrong, it just means you have eyes and can see. it doesn't mean you condone it or support it, it just means you understand nuance in media. in ANY media, not just jojo or anime in general or anything.

#proshitters dont touch this post this isn't for you #this is for NUANCE #i could write an essay on this for real #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jonathan joestar #dio brando #this is a rant not any actual analysis #anon yells about stuff