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always-andromeda · 10 months

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𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐞 “𝐃𝐢𝐨” 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3313

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry, friends. I’ve had this one sitting in my drafts for literally. almost two months. 😬 but no matter, we’re posting this now. I'm a sucker for a dark haired, emo asshole. for those who know me, this attachment was inevitable; forgive me.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (minors, do not interact <3), descriptions of p in v sex, oral, cum play, biting, choking, overstimulation, voyeurism, free use, occasional pet names (princess, baby, good girl, sweetheart), slight elements of sadomasochism, descriptions of cigarette usage, nothing else I can think of!

𝐀 = 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱)

Let's not beat around the bush. Dio is not great when it comes to aftercare. Hell, he's not even good at it. He's not too eager to get cleaned up, preferring to sit in the post-climax haze and revel in how sensitive you still are. He'll teasingly stroke your outer lips or the raw spots on your side where his fingers had been gripping on. But don't expect him to get all cuddly. If you tried he'd scoff, "Jesus, it's way too hot for that. Give me some space, princess." The most praise you'll get from is him whispering, "Good girl," as he strokes your hair.

𝐁 = 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫’𝐬)

Dio is quite fond of his shoulders and arms. They're perfect for caging you into his space. They look good clad in his worn leather and slung around your frame, not so subtly showing the lowlifes that flit around him that he's already got a girl of his own. He's also a huge fan of your neck. Especially how it looks when it's all marked up. Whether you try to hide them or not, he’s proud to know that he gets to claim you as his own.

𝐂 = 𝐂𝐮𝐦 (𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐦, 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)

This man will cum anywhere but inside of you essentially. He's not looking to have any sort of pregnancy scares and protection isn't exactly always at the ready with him. He kind of has to have a top tier pullout game. Besides, you worked so hard to make him cum, might as well actually see the result of your efforts, right?

Sometimes he'll ask you where you want it, but usually he already has a location in mind and it takes a little bit of convincing to change his mind once he's made it up. But be rest assured, wherever his spend lands, he's swiping up some of it on his finger and making you lick it up. He purrs gently, "C'mon, baby, get it all," and pushes his finger even further past your lips. He won't ease up until you do in fact get it all. And he's definitely kissing you long and hard afterwards. What's better than the taste of him still lingering on your tongue?

𝐃 = 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 (𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬)

Dio doesn't feel much shame about anything. But one thing he'll never let you know of is just how much he loves marking you up. And not just from hickies on your neck. Sometimes he'll deliberately dig his fingers a little deeper into your hips while he's fucking you. And he feels a tiny bit guilty when you cry in pain, but it almost immediately dissolves when he pictures the gorgeous bruises that'll bloom over your skin in the coming days. Then he has the audacity to tell you not to put your clothes back on, just so he can trace over those spots, soothing them with the instruments that made them in the first place. He's so proud of himself for being able to pull you apart only to put you back together again.

𝐄 = 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?)

Oh, the man is experienced, alright. And he'd never let you forget it. You might be his Queen of Darkness or whatever other punk rock bullshit he spouts, but Dio sure didn't turn into the King of Darkness overnight. And he proves it right from the jump by making you cum four times the first time he hooks up with you. He somehow seems to know just how to navigate every crook and curve of your body and coaxes the best crescendoing climaxes from you. In both the worst and best ways, Dio is like no other person you've been with.

𝐅 = 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠)

Dio absolutely loves being ridden. Sure, he can fold you in half and pound you like a champ. But he likes when you take the reins. It gets his blood rushing, having you proudly towering over him, taking his cock. It doesn't even have to involve penetration. Grind down on his thigh or even just his stomach and he'll be so hard that he practically has no choice but to palm himself through his dark jeans while he watches the show.

𝐆 = 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

He's as serious as a heart attack. Sex with Dio is intense and always leaves some kind of an impact on you. If anyone’s laughing, it’s him chuckling over how much of a mess you are for him.

𝐇 = 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

His dick sprouts from a bush of unkempt, curly, dark hair that trails up his lower stomach. I’m telling you, that bush is thick. And he definitely likes making you bury your nose directly in it when you go down on him.

𝐈 = 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭)

Whatever sentimental feelings Dio may have for you, they rarely, if ever, come out during sex. In fact, all of his vulnerabilities are masked by about a dozen different layers of sarcasm, superstitious nonsense, and his superiority complex. So if Dio truly loves you, you'll only see that genuine adoration in little glimpses.

It's the occasional peck on your lips when he's just finished and he's still trying to come back to reality. Or him being a little bit gentler with your body when he's fucking you on your period. Or him kissing old bruises on your thighs and whispering, "Sorry, sweetheart," before diving right into your cunt. It may be a bit cold and shriveled, but there is a heart underneath that sardonic, leather coated exterior.

Sometimes in the midst of this fucked up world, he's tempted to bury himself six feet under. But you drag him right back up from the depths of hell every time. He doesn't make you aware of those feelings often, but when he does, you can't help but almost sob at his moments of fucked up tenderness.

𝐉 = 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 (𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧)

He's a little bit of a sex fiend, but he's never been the type to actually masturbate that often. Touching himself only gets him so far. He much prefers having someone else to engage with. It’s the power plays and mutual pleasure that really gets him going.

However, when he does masturbate, it’s a slow, burning build up. There’s not an ounce of desperation in his thrusts as he marches himself towards a release before calmly pulling himself back. Dio doesn’t let himself get off that easy. It’s just his hips languidly rolling into his hand. He takes sharp breaths in through his clenched teeth and occasionally lets out a few low moans. It’s a sacred affair that leads to his eyes rolling back in his head and him spurting ropes of thick spend over his toned stomach. Worn out and filled with self satisfaction, that’s when he lets himself kick back.

𝐊 = 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 (𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬)

Okay, buckle up, because there's quite a few. First and foremost, voyeurism. See the location prompt for elaboration on that point. Bits of sadomasochism here and there. That usually entails some overstimulation, choking, biting, hair pulling from both ends. He just likes sinking his teeth, his tongue, his fingers, his cock, his...everything...into you. He's also particularly fond of making you wear one of his necklaces while he's fucking you. There's something almost hypnotic about the way the pendant bounces against the valley between your tits; he could totally get lost staring at the sight. There's also some traces of a free use kink around everything he does. When the lines between completely innocent and downright filthy are blurred, he's a happy guy.

𝐋 = 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨)

Anytime and anywhere. Dio takes a lot of pride in being able to have you anywhere he wants, especially if there's the chance of being seen or heard and especially if those seeing and hearing are the people that hang around him. Nothing strikes intimidation in the hearts of his followers like seeing their idol make a girl scream and cry for him.

Give him a bedroom. A bathroom. A closet. A couch. Even just an empty wall and he can make that moment last forever for you. Maybe it's his demonic powers or maybe it's just his sheer cockiness that has you melting for him. Either way, it's difficult to stay lucid around that man; you're a complete goner.

𝐌 = 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠)

A chase. More than anything, Dio enjoys having something to crave. Sure, having you available just for him can be nice, but he also wants to fight for it a little. Even if it's just an illusion of a challenge, that just makes it more exciting for him.

𝐍 = 𝐍𝐨 (𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐬)

There are very few limits to what Dio would be willing to do. His biggest no would be adding any extra partners into the mix. He doesn't care if anyone else watches. But if there is even the slightest chance that someone might steal his thunder? It brings him completely out of the moment. God forbid one of his friends suggests a threesome. He'll have them on the ground, beaten and bloody within minutes. You're all his; no one else gets to touch. He's a bit possessive (and insecure) in that way.

𝐎 = 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

While he certainly isn't opposed to giving, he really prefers receiving. There's just something so beautiful about having you on your knees, staring up at him, putting so much trust in him. It's even better if you don't have any experience or at least feign ignorance of having any experience. It gives him a chance to instruct you. He likes being a bit bossy, showing you exactly what makes his toes curl. He'll hold your hair and slowly guide you along the length of his cock, taking his sweet time getting acclimated to the silky smooth warmth of your mouth.

But your lack of experience doesn't grant you any mercy; he'll still find a way to be a bit mean about it. If he's not quite satisfied with the amount of friction, he'll grab your hair and push you down just a little deeper. Just enough to make you gag so he can see the tears well up in your eyes. When you feel his warm cum hit the back of your throat and he finally pulls out, he holds your jaw and orders you to open your mouth just to make sure you swallowed all of what he gave you.

𝐏 = 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

Depending on how he'd like to torment you, he can go either way. But what he loves most is giving you slow, steady strokes. So leisurely in his movements that your heels dig into his back, urging him to give you just a little more friction. Then, right when you're just about to give up on getting him to listen to you at all, he slams right into you. It knocks the breath from your lungs and makes you let out this halfhearted yelp. And Dio watches as your whole body shakes and seems to crumble even further into the mattress. So, yeah, he can do it fast if he wants to. But there's more fun in making you fall apart with just a little bit of control.

𝐐 = 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

Of course Dio would love to spend a long while edging you until your legs are trembling and you're begging him to let you cum. But, alas, the outside world exists and he can't always spend his time fucking you no matter how much he would like to.

So, that leads to many quick rounds where he's telling you to keep quiet before putting one hand over your mouth and shoving the other down your pants. It also leads to him breaking out those puppy dog eyes and undoing his belt and the button of his jeans in preparation to ask you to give him one quick ride before you have to go off to work. Just know that regardless of if he's getting or giving that single orgasm, he's going to make it as worth it as possible for the time he's allowed.

𝐑 = 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐬? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

Of course he's game for risk in almost every sense of the word. That's the name of the game, baby. However, there are definitely times where he can go a bit too far and boundaries would need to be set. Like if you need a safe word? He's there for it.

𝐒 = 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫? 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭?)

Dio's stamina can be almost impossibly relentless at times. He'll completely ruin you, pull out, cum on your stomach, and flop over beside you. And before it even has any time to begin to dry, he's already looking over you and asking, "Ready to go again?"

𝐓 = 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬 (𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦? 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬?)

I'm telling you, this man would love to get his hands on one of those remote controlled vibrators. They might be on the pricier side but it's completely guaranteed that he'd make every penny completely worth it. He'd keep the controller in one of his big jacket pockets and pat it teasingly whenever you mouth off or tease him a little too much in front of his friends. When you finally push the envelope, he'll simply lean over and whisper in your ear, "You forced my hand, baby," and chuckle when you start to squirm for him.

I also see him being the type that would love to have some sort of bed restraint system. Sure, he'd like to get you all restrained. But he'd like it if you got him all hooked up instead. We know that he likes being presented with a challenge. And being all tied up to a bed frame is yet another hurdle for him to attempt to jump over. But don't get it twisted, he's not whining and begging anytime soon. It's more like he's daring you to touch him, to make him strain against the ropes and grasp for any inch of your skin that he can get to. "Make me want it, baby," he'd sneer defiantly, only egging you on more.

𝐔 = 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞)

This man is top tier when it comes to teasing. He has this way of coming off so gentle, so innocent, and so enticing. His voice would get so raspy and soft and he'd look at you like you're the only thing that he could ever truly worship. He'll play the game and be nice to get you where he wants you and as soon as he does, a switch flips and he turns into the cockiest little monster imaginable. He finds it so humorous when you squirm upon feeling his hot breath. "What? Is my little princess getting impatient?" he chuckles. But he won't hear anything about how he was literally begging to be between your legs just a few minutes ago. He has ways to make sure you don't question him.

Dio is not only proficient in the art of teasing but he is also a huge fan of being teased himself. He fantasizes over the way your fingers ghost over his tan skin and leaves him shivering. Even just your eyes drinking up his lean figure while he's under you renders him speechless. He's completely at your mercy and you better savor it because it won't happen often.

𝐕 = 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

Don't expect to be hearing any sort of whimpering or whining from him (the majority of the time). But you can expect to hear some deliciously loud, low groans and dramatic sighs. He also has a tendency to curse under his breath, his voice all raspy and drawn out. One of his favorites, especially when he's sinking into you is, "Oh, fuuuuck, baby," followed by a relaxed chuckle. If he's feeling good, you're going to know all about it.

𝐖 = 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 (𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫)

Two words. Nipple piercings. I just know he has them. At first it was a choice he made for aesthetic purposes. He's got loads of other shiny accessories, what's another one for the collection? But the biggest perk was definitely his nipple sensitivity skyrocketing. That's when they become more of a little secret he keeps instead of something he flaunts openly. He tends to wear baggy clothing so only those who are lucky enough to sleep with him get to see them (and use them against him). Spoiler alert: he'll whimper a little bit if you suck on them just right.

𝐗 = 𝐗-𝐫𝐚𝐲 (𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬)

He’s close to six inches when hard and on the skinnier side but he knows how to use it well. The underside of his shaft is lined with a prominent vein that is a little bit intimidating on his tan skin. Definitely circumcised with a slightly darker, bulbous, mushroom head tip. It's a somewhat manageable size but he wields it like a weapon.

𝐘 = 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞?)

You never quite know what you're going to get with Dio. If he's in one of his moods, he makes a point to abstain. Sometimes coming doesn't give him the release of stress that he's looking for and he straight up gets bored with going through the motions. But when that craving comes back? Get ready for a big storm.

Look forward to him thoroughly pounding into you, chasing every cry you let out as his balls slap against you. He'll grab at your thighs and hike your legs up just to get the perfect angle, working his way impossibly deeper into you. Get ready for him to be spreading you open and lapping at your cunt like he's a starving man. He'll be licking up every ounce of you and growling at the taste while palming himself through his jeans. In those moments, he swears that he doesn't need to take any drug ever again. He's completely and utterly high off your aura and he'll never need another fix again. Every once in a while he'll purposely go cold turkey because he knows that when he lets out all that feral energy, it's going to feel fucking fantastic.

𝐙 = 𝐙𝐳𝐳 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬)

Dio is the type to need a cigarette after having sex. No matter how hard he cums, he'll have that buzz running through his system and feels like he needs that dose of nicotine to keep it going. It never really hits the way he wants it to. As soon as he's done, he puts the cigarette out on the ashtray on the bedside table and puts his arm around your shoulder. Then he stares down at you, chest heavy and beaming with pride at his mangled toy. He glistens in sweat and somehow looks like a god, though you know he'd oppose that immediately if you said it. Instead, you let him kiss you like he'd kissed that damn cigarette and you taste its smoky residue and the nutty undertones. But it's the bitterness that takes over. It's always bitter when it ends, always.

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#shane dio morrissey #shane dio morrissey x reader #shane dio morrissey x you #shane dio morrissey x y/n #shane dio morrissey fanfic #shane dio morrissey fanfiction #shane dio morrissey smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n

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imtryingmybeskar · 1 year

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Drabble 24 - Dio. This can be read as Dio x M! Reader or Dio x F! Reader. Either way it's very NSFW. Word count: 509

Dio is a bratty sub who needs to be tamed. Which you are very happy to do courtesy of edging and orgasm denial.

A single drop of sweat runs down the central dip of his spine and pools at the small of his back as he arches, desperate to feel more of you.

“Please…,” he begs, panting. “Plea-please.”

“Mmmm, no,” you purr, grabbing his hips to still his movements. “Bad, bratty boys don’t get to choose how they come.”

He groans, and the desperation of it sends a thrill to your abdomen. You had teased him for hours before finally sinking into him and he was near frantic, his whole body tensed and on the verge of the orgasm that you had denied him for so long.

His head drops, dips down below his shoulders as his arms tremble with the sustained effort of holding himself on all fours. You slide your hand up the smooth skin of his sweat slicked back until you are cocooning him with your smaller body. Your hand reaches out for the leather collar that sits around his neck.

“Are you gonna be good for me now, sweet boy?” you coo, pulling gently so that he is forced to turn his head and look behind him. His beautiful, boundlessly dark eyes look black in the half light of the candles that are dotted around your bedroom and he nods frantically in reply to your question.

You glide your hands back down his torso, feeling the muscles between his ribs, the heat of his overwrought body under your fingertips. “Move with me,” you command, the order couched in soft velvet and love.

He does, repeating the dance you have performed a hundred times before as you rock back on to your haunches and bring him with you, sliding him down deeper still over the cock buried inside of him. He lets out an involuntary whimper at the feeling and you hook your chin over his shoulder to take a look at your handiwork.

His own cock is beautiful and angrily large, flushed almost purple at the tip and leaking everywhere, a pool of precum in a large circular patch on the sheets where he had previously been positioned. You run your palm firmly up over his chest, holding him close to your own as you lick a stripe up his shoulder and he visibly twitches as he desperately fights to control himself.

“Will you always be my good boy?” you whisper in his ear, gently biting down on his earlobe as he stutters his reply.

“Y-yes. Oh yes. I’ll be g-good always. I sw-swear.”

“Then use me,” you murmur. “Use my cock to come, Dio.”

He keens, a noise of relief and desperate desire, and begins to rock back on to you, angling himself until he hits that spot deep inside. A ragged shout is torn from his throat as he comes in seconds, his cock entirely untouched and yet spattering over the wall, the headboard, the pillows and sheets.

Quivering, he sinks back against you, relying entirely on your strength to keep him upright. You murmur sweet nonsense and praise into his ear, savouring holding him close.

@thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities

#shane dio morrissey #dio x reader #dio x you #dio x M! reader #dio x F! reader #shane dio morrissey x you #shane dio morrissey x reader #drabble challenge #drabbles #pure smut

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jpbpxma · 8 days

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hi, this is a new writing blog for pedro pascal & his characters. I have many ideas of my own to post but I'm also accepting requests for scenarios, specific characters of his you'd like to see written or just anything really, even if it's just to talk so shoot me an ask :)<3

(yes the picture is a way to bring your attention to this post)

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existential-angstt · 1 year

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Pay Attention Please (P. 1) // (professor) Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Reader

hiiiiii guys :)

I've been wanting to do another dio fic for so long especially because my dio fics have been blowing up my notes on tumblr and I finally found the perfect subject. This was going to be another smutty one shot but I got into it and found that I really wanted to kind of explore with this one, so I don't know how far we'll go. There will definitely be some major smut.

"Y/n- y/n-"

You shook out of your daydreams about your rather attractive Latin professor… to find him staring at you along with the rest of the class. You felt a hot blush run up your cheeks and the back of your neck- you could practically feel your ears turning red.

"Sorry what?" You stammered out lamely.

"Will you correctly conjugate this verb? Please? Unless you have something better to do?" Professor Morrissey snipped. You felt your blush grow deeper but managed a nod and gave the (mostly correct) conjugations. "Thank you," he said with a reproachful look at you.

You wanted to shrink into your seat and let the floor open up and eat you. Luckily he didn't pay attention to you for the rest of class and you thought you'd be able to escape his notice for the rest of the period.

Unlucky for you, you didn't. "Y/n."

You froze, mid-sneaking out after dismissal, and looked at him. He was crooking a finger at you, leaned against his desk. You approached guiltily, hands wrapped around your backpack straps. "You've been having a lot of trouble paying attention lately," he stated. It wasn't a question. "Is there anything going on I need to know about? Anything going on at home?"

Yeah I can't stop thinking about how badly I want you to f-

"No," you said with a small smile at your inner thought, "nothing at all."

When you met his eyes again a cold shiver ran down your spine– because if you didn't know any better you might say he was able to read your mind, see exactly what you were thinking. The positions, the panting, the dirty talk- all of it. You could feel that blush from earlier creeping back up all in a rush. Beneath the surface he seemed mildly bemused at your reaction but he didn't let it show. Maybe it was just your imagination.

"Are you sure?" He said in that silky smooth voice of his. He had to be doing this on purpose, it wasn’t fair how attractive he was. You looked up at him again, feeling the heat again in your cheeks just at his tone. He wasn't classically handsome- his nose was large and slightly crooked and his eyes were dark and mischievous behind his dark square reading glasses. But the things you wanted him to do to you-

"Yes sir," you said. You noticed his mouth quirked up on one side at the "sir" but he said nothing about it. “All right,” he finally said, pushing off from his desk and standing at his full height. When he did that he towered over you at six foot three. The sight of it made your knees a little weak. He seemed to have to more to say so you scurried out with what little dignity you had left and practically ran from the linguistic department.

“I should’ve taken French, I should’ve taken French-” you muttered angrily to yourself on the bus ride back to your apartment. That first day when you’d walked into class it had struck you how hot your Latin professor was, and then you had to listen to him read the whole syllabus to you that period– you asked yourself even then how you were going to survive a semester of that. Not many of your friends shared your taste for him so you pined away for Professor Morrissey alone. But god, something had to be done about the rampant sex fantasies you were having while in class– today was as much a sign as anything.

But in your head he’d had you bent over his desk, slamming into you, a hand tangled in your hair pulling roughly, telling you what a good little sl-

You shook yourself from the thought as your bus reached your stop.

Yes, something had to be done because you couldn’t take this anymore.

Once you got home and got some food in you you were able to calm down– not obsess over those dark piercing eyes on you, boring into you like they could see right through you. You finished the homework he assigned in less than thirty minutes- your Latin was impeccable. It was him that put you into such a tizzy. You’d just wrapped up the last question when your phone dinged. It was a text from your friend, Becca- she had Professor Morrissey too, just a different period. All the text said was “DUDE” and there was a link attached.

You clicked the link and stared at the headline for a long moment, trying to figure out why she’d sent this to you.

Satanic Cult Suspected in Downtown Stabbing

You started skimming over the article- it was like 20 years old, written around the time you were born- why would she send-

You stopped. And stared at one of the pictures attached to the article. It was a photo of a boy about your age, decked from head to toe in black. He had a long leather trench coat, a couple of necklaces and lots of piercings. Definitely a sketchy looking guy at first glance, you could tell from the picture he was tall and broad too– but it only took you a second to recognize that nose.

You texted Becca back hurriedly “PROF. MORRISSEY???????” and then went back to the article to reread more closely. Basically it said some businessman from the city had been stabbed in a hotel room and some goth kids linked to satanism were suspected and taken in for questioning. You stared at that picture, willing it to move, become a video at least so you could see more of him. Professor Morrissey was goth? Professor Morrissey STABBED someone????

I guess he could be considered goth now- you only ever saw him in black, grey, or (one time) white– you’d never seen him in color. Just… the way he dressed– he wasn’t someone you’d consider goth. Maybe more along the lines of “professional” looking. But those were his same dark, sparkling eyes in the picture, glinting in the same roguish way from the article.

You quickly sprang to google, ready to type his name in to see if you could find more information but… stopped. You didn’t know his first name. Wait, wait, wait, didn’t the syllabus-

You scrambled through your class supplies and found your copy of his syllabus, a little crumpled at the edge from how long it had been tucked away in your notebook. There, at the top, under the course name and above his contact information- D. Morrissey

It would have to do. You punched it into the search bar and eyed the results. You keyed through the image results, searching, eyes scanning the faces. You let out a little sigh as you got to the bottom of the page- wait. There. You stared. After a second you enlarged the image. It was a mugshot. Of Professor Morrissey. You took it in with wide eyes, cheeks hot. If you thought he was hot now, you would’ve perished to meet him at 20. The lines from his face were gone– the laughter lines and crows feet– and he had a flawless complexion.

He was scowling in the mugshot but the light still danced in his eyes and on the chains around his neck, the many rings in each of his ears. He didn’t look anything like himself– he looked… dangerous. Who was this boy? Who’d become this man you were so fond of? And what had he done? What was the truth?

After another half hour of scouring the internet for anything else to be found, you concluded the one news article and the mugshot were all that were to be found on the internet about the incident. The mugshot ended up linking back to the original article, even though it didn’t show up on the webpage somehow. You couldn’t link anything else and without a full first name you couldn’t find any other news about the event, like if he’d been convicted or not. You sat back in a little disappointment and opened the tab with the article again, scrolling down to his picture. You studied it for a little bit as if you could ascertain the information you sought. Now, after everything, how in the world were you going to be able to pay attention in his class now?

You didn’t have his class again until two days later and by then every thought under the sun about the news article had passed through your mind. You were definitely a little nervous to go back to class but more than that you were anxious to return. Excited. Perhaps a little too excited, because you got there before he did. The Spanish class that used the room before your period filtered out and you took your normal seat towards the back of the room, glancing at the empty room uneasily.

You busied yourself making sure your homework was thorough and neat and you checked for the syllabus for what the session would be on today. About then was when he wandered into the class and set down his bag and his coffee. You looked up at him slowly and he gave you a strange look, regarding you for a second before saying, “Hello, y/n.”

“Hey,” you said, your voice ever so slightly higher than normal. You hoped he didn’t notice. By the playful little grin he definitely did. Shit. He sat down behind his desk and keyed away on his phone, no longer looking at you. You glanced around for a second and then found your eyes back on him, taking him in. He looked the same as he had two days ago, just dressed in different clothes– today it was a black collared shirt and dark patterned trousers over black boots. How could he be the boy from the article?

His dark eyes flicked up to you and you immediately dropped your gaze, glancing elsewhere. “Do you need something, y/n?” he said in that same satiny tone from last time. It wasn’t his normal voice, it was… lower. There were undertones to it– a playfulness. You looked up again, your face hot. “Nope,” you said as casually as you could. His eyes lingered on you assessingly. You tried your best to keep your breathing even and steady, trying not to wilt under his gaze. “You’re gonna pay attention for me today, right?” he said. All you could do was nod. There was that bemusement lingering just beneath the surface again. “Good girl,” he murmured, going back to texting, eyes already back on the screen. Your eyes widened and you let out the tiniest little gasp in surprise at the phrase.

His eyes flicked back up to you a good 20 seconds later and you knew. You knew he knew what he was doing and he was doing it specifically. Maybe he really did have a bad side– maybe he really did stab a guy. You swallowed a bit and struggled to remain neutral, eyes back on your notebook. You could still feel him staring at you but couldn’t dare to meet his eyes again.

Finally, blessedly, a few of the other students started to filter in and Professor Morrissey got up to pull out papers and other things for the lesson, to get things ready. You distracted yourself in any way you could but you always felt your eyes sliding back up to him, especially when his back was turned. Everything felt so much more intense today– perhaps it was knowing everything you knew now. But you had to know more. You had to.

You were utterly unable to not pay attention this period– you hyperfocused on his teaching. Every word he said, every move he made– and it didn’t escape your notice how often his eyes seemed to drift to you, like they were magnitized to your seat. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t seem to have nearly the same problem as you did of blushing every time your eyes met. Class ended in what felt like record time and everyone started to collect their things and file out, onto the next part of their day. But you took your time, getting up after the back of the class was empty and packing your things slowly.

Professor Morrissey had another period in this same classroom so he wasn’t going anywhere. You swallowed as you tucked away the last of your things and slung your backpack up on your back, walking slowly up to the front. As soon as you were within ten feet of the desk, his eyes slid up to you, the same way they had before class. He smirked at you (fuck) and said, “Good job today. Your performance is much improved. I hope you’ll keep it up.” You blushed softly at his words (damn your face, always betraying your intentions). You opened your mouth but it was a long second before you spoke. “Professor, what were you like when you were younger?”

He eyed you but his expression didn’t change, didn’t reveal anything. After a long consideration, he said, “I was a bit of a…. Troubled kid. Got into my share of….trouble. I always loved learning though,” he gave you a look, one of those see-right-through-you looks again, and said, “Any particular reason you ask?”

Your mouth was suddenly a bit dry but you managed, “I found this article- online-”

His short laugh startled you a little bit. “Always that damned article,” he murmured, sitting back in his chair so his shirt rode up slightly, showing a sliver of his tummy (that you just ate up). He sighed deeply and looked up at you, hands resting just behind his head. You noticed some kind of black ink on one of his palms, like a tattoo. “What do you want to know?”

You blinked at him a little, unprepared for him to open such a door to you. “Wull,” you shifted your weight a little bit, and, slightly nervous- “did you do it?” He kept his eyes on you and replied softly, “Would you be afraid of me if I did?” You blinked at him again, and before your brain could give your mouth the all-clear on what was about to come out of it, you said, “No.”

His energy seemed to shift, a hint of tension leaving his shoulders. “Good,” he said. “All right, page 184, exercises 1 through 6, all right?” He was telling you that was the end of the conversation for now. You were dying to find out some way to bring up his first name so you could continue your research, but you could tell you weren’t going to get any more out of him today. “Thank you… professor,” you said, eyes still on him. He was looking down at his desk, not at anything in particular, so you headed out of the classroom, your mind spinning.

“Would you be afraid of me if I did?”

That question haunted your waking hours for the next two days- that and “good girl”. How dare he say say that to you– he could obviously tell the effect he had on you. He was quite the ladies man, obviously– very self-assured (even though as far as you knew he wasn’t married or had a girlfriend or anything– not that you knew anything about that man’s personal life). That should irritate the hell out of you but instead it turned you on a frightening amount.

But why would he ask that?

The selfish, arrogant part of you whispered that he liked you, and he didn’t want you to be afraid of him. The rational part hissed back that he just didn’t want anyone else to find out about his past. But the school had to know- right? Surely, they had to know. He must have been acquitted, found not guilty– there was no way they’d hire him if he’d been convicted. And on the other side– based on everything you could see– he went from a goth, satanist, murder suspect to a college linguistic professor. A little hard to believe.

The questions were unending. There was too much you didn’t know. You felt like you had an itch you couldn’t scratch, all the way up until your next period with him. You arrived early again, this time purposely, and laid in wait. He arrived a couple minutes later, earlier than he was last time, coffee in hand. He always had coffee, you had noted that before all these recent revelations. You had that in common– caffeine addicts. He gave you a nod of acknowledgement and set down all of his things before sinking down in into his chair and scrolling through his phone.

Your eyes were on him unabashedly. You’d been working for a week now to steel yourself, to be able to look him in the eye and speak to him without being a stuttery blushy mess and you believed you now had it in hand (for the most part. You had no promises if he called you a good girl again). He let out a big sigh, scrolling, and said, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you staring was rude?”

That threw you off a little bit but not enough to drop your gaze and submit to him. His eyes met yours. He said in a little resigned way, “You want to know more. Obviously, you have more questions.” You steepled your hands in front of you, waiting to see where he was going. “Go ahead and ask then,” he said, sitting up in his chair.

You slowly put your hands back down on the desk. “Why?”

He sat back again, contemplating. If he already knew you were still curious, he had to know that would be one of your top questions, but he still sat back to think about it before answering. “I… had a rough… go of it as a kid. My parents weren’t….,” he shook his head and sort of trailed off before starting again. “I kind of skated around from town to town, hitchhiking, swindling money were I could. I made friends with… all the wrong sorts of people who got me into all sorts of trouble. Luckily, I never got too deep in the drug scene besides some weed,” he laughed that short laugh again.

“But… I was just in the wrong place around the wrong people. And I… had a lot of issues. Then,” his handsome face looked troubled, lost in the memories of the past. He breathed a deep thoughtful breath. “What it comes down to is…. A mistake. A big mistake. And I got really lucky. I got out of it, got given another chance. It took some time, and some serious work… and some people who… cared for me when no one else did, in ways I can never repay. But… I took that second chance and I made something of myself,” Professor Morrissey said, his eyes back on you.

You blinked softly at him, taking in everything he’d said. His eyes lingered on yours for a long moment and you thought he was going to say something else but a few of the other students filtered in and you could see him pull back into himself, pulling out papers and organizing folders.

Class seemed to drag on and this time you noticed he seemed to be specifically avoiding looking at you. He looked anywhere but you. What followed was a fairly uninteresting lesson on past participle and then, as suddenly as last time, class was over. Everyone shoved their things back into their bags and filed out of the room but you stayed seated, really wanting to do anything but leave. He noticed.

He watched the last person leave and then leaned back against his desk, arms crossed across his chest and his attention finally on you again. It felt like a friend had just left a room to take a lengthy phone call and had finally returned. “Were you really a satanist?” you said unprompted. He let out a low breathy chuckle that made something in your stomach flip. “No,” he said genuinely. “I was much much worse.”

He worried at his lip a little with his teeth. “Are you still? ……worse?”

He shook his head. You let out a little breath of relief you hadn’t expected to find. He reached down to grip the desk with his hands. “Why are you so curious about it?”

You shook your head a little. “I… saw pictures. Read it, you know– you don’t… seem like the same person. I wondered how you ever…,” you trailed off despite the light of interest in his eyes. “D’you wanna get coffee?” you didn’t realize it was you who’d spoken the words until they’d left your mouth and instantly you worried you made the wrong move. Professor Morrissey cocked his head a little. “What?” he said.

“Coffee. You– drink it a lot. Do you… wanna– get it? With- with me?”

He had a soft smirk playing across his face and god it killed you. “I have a class.”

You were shocked by the lack of “it’s not really professional” and “I don’t hang out with students” and “I can’t be seen with a student outside of class or study sessions”. You’d fully expected a little pushback on that front but it didn’t come. “I’ll wait,” you said softly, eagerly. If his only excuse was his next period, you were willing to try to win him over.

He looked at you a long moment, that pretty smirk still hung on his lips.

A few students from his next period started filtering into the room now that the class had been empty a few minutes and your eyes never left his as the room started to fill up again.

this work is also on AO3 if you’d like to stay subscribed!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46251523

#NYPD Blue #pedro pascal #shane dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #shane dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey #dio x reader #dio x you

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covetyou · 3 days

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Thank you to everyone who sent me their favourite butt sex/anal play fics! If you'd still like to submit something, please check out the original post.

Now, no more dilly-dallying, onto the butt stuff. I've listed some key contents of each fic where possible, but not all warnings - please see individual fics for all warnings. All fics are with reader characters unless otherwise specified.

Din Djarin

birthday bunny by @604to647 modern AU - butt plugs this endless friction by @corazondebeskar-reads BDSM - double penetration (toy)

Frankie Morales

bunny by @gasolinerainbowpuddles double penetration (toy) weeknights drabble by @frannyzooey first time anal open waters/ashore by @gaiuswrites first time anal - double penetration (fingers)

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

inter-agency cooperation by @ghostofaboy with Javier Peña double whiskey on the rocks by @ghostofaboy with m!OC - anal fingering

Javier Peña

keep me in your glow by @atticrissfinch first time anal tovar's desires by @absurdthirst threesome (with Pero Tovar) - double penetration - rimming - more 🍑 from absurdthirst on ao3

Joel Miller

MDKT 2023 day 8 - bondage by @theywhowriteandknowthings double penetration (fingers) another time, baby by @swiftispunk butt plugs - double penetration (fingers, toys) the saints can't help me now by @atticrissfinch butt plugs - anal fingering - dom!Joel craving by @velvetmud double penetration (fingers) knuckles deep by @ozarkthedog anal fingering make a move on me by @freelancearsonist first time anal mine by @the-scandalorian first time anal - rimming sparks fly by @ezrasbirdie rimming what's in the bag by @thetriumphantpanda first time anal - butt plugs - double penetration (fingers) a day in the filth by @toxicanonymity double penetration (toys)

Others

reaching for the sweetest, sweetest peaches by @psychedelic-ink Oberyn Martell x f!reader - modern AU - first time anal

Series

baby, I'm-a want you by @perotovar multiple Pedro characters - pornstar AU bloody kisses (part two) by @perotovar Tim Rockford x Shane 'Dio' Morrissey - first time anal in the dark (chapter 9) by @frannyzooey Ezra x f!reader - anal fingering something wretched about this (part 2) by @covetyou anal fingering - rimming playdate by @daddy-dins-girl Marcus Pike x f!reader x Dave York

blackmail (part 1 and 4) by @milla-frenchy

Joel Miller x f!reader x Javier Peña - rimming - double penetration

#pedro character perfect peach #the buttening #fic recs #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #coveted recs #buttstravaganza #🍑 stuff

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nerdieforpedro · 11 days

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Nerdie’s Fic Picks - Volume Six!

All fanfics on this list are for readers age 18 and up, please respect the author's tags, warnings and notes as they're there so you know what's in them. YOU are in charge of your own reading experience!

Main fic recommendation list

1. two pack habit & a motel tan by @trulybetty (Frankie morales x f reader)

2. Door Number Three by @morallyinept (Javi G and reader)

3. El Punto de Olvidarte (Part three of Mejor Sin Ti) by @fhatbhabie (Javi P and female reader featuring asshole Joel Miller)

4. Cave In by @javierssunglasses (Jack Daniels x f reader)

5. Bloody Kisses - Part One - Less than zero by @perotovar (Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Tim Rockford)

6. going to make you sweat by @undercoverpena (Javier Peña x f reader)

7. To the Flame chapter 10 by @pedroshotwifey (dark Javier Peña x f reader)

8. Tension by @notjustjavierpena (Javier Peña x f reader)

9. Taurus by @magpiepills (Joel Miller x f reader)

10. 18 x heart candies by @trulybetty (Dieter Bravo x Bryony - ofc)

11. Cruel Summer by @fhatbhabie (Dieter Bravo x plus size reader)

12. Respected by @kteague (Javier Peña x reader - Diosa) SA warning

13. Dámalo by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (Javier Peña x f reader)

14. Salty Sweet by @pedroshotwifey (Javier Peña x plus size female reader)

15. Scandal by @wannab-urs (Dieter Beavo x f reader)

16. My Girl by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Din Djarin x f reader)

17. Masterpiece by @morallyinept (Dieter Bravo x f reader)

18. Fairy Gold by @julesonrecord (Ezra - Cali Gold Rush AU x f reader)

19. For the Record by @wannab-urs (Dieter Bravo x f reader)

20. Imagine (Drabble) by @bonezone44 (Ezra x Frankie Morales

21. Sanctuary by @fhatbhabie (Dieter Bravo x plus size f reader - wife)

22. Like Real People Do by @fhatbhabie (Frankie Morales x reader)

23. Love’s a weed: new dress drabble by @tinytinymenace (Frankie Morales x Ruby - OFC)

24. Mine by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Din Djarin x f reader)

25. Breakfast is Served by @maggiemayhemnj (Joel Miller x reader)

26. IRL part three @han_shot_first by @grogusmum (Javier Gutierrez x plus size f reader)

27. bloody kisses — part two: i don't wanna be me by @perotovar (Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Tim Rockford)

28. Longing by @creedslove (Javier Peña x f reader)

29. Cherry Wine by @julesonrecord DDNE (Jack Daniels x wife reader)

30. A Galaxy Far Far Away au: Part 1 First Contact by @grogusmom (Din Djarin x Earthling f reader)

31. Should’ve Stayed Bored by @pedroshotwifey (Chump Joel Miller x f reader

32. To The Flame chapter 11 by @pedroshotwifey (Dark Javier Peña x f reader)

33. Que Creías? by @fhatbhabie (Marcus Pike x plus size female reader)

34. A Galaxy Far Far Away au: Part 2 Juniper Cottage by @grogusmom (Din Djarin x Earthling f reader)

35. A Galaxy Far Far Away au: Part 3 Making Breakfast by @grogusmom (Din Djarin x Earthing f reader)

36. A Galaxy Far Far Away au: Part 4 Freaking Out, On The Outside by @grogusmom (Din Djarin x Earthling f reader)

37. A Galaxy Far Far Away au: Part 5 Di’kut by @grogusmom (Din Djarin x Earthling f reader)

38. The Wolf & The Lamb by @morallyinept (Dave York x plus size female reader)

39. A Work of Art by @boliv-jenta (Lucien Flores x f reader)

40. Roommates 1 You’re Joking right? By @punkshort (pornstar Joel x f reader)

Happy reading everyone! Remember to like and reblog all these amazing writers' fics. 🥰

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scuddisher · 1 year

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INSOMNIAC

Stuck in your apartment awake all night suffering from insomnia, you befriend your neighbor, Dio, when you overhear him singing on his fire escape.

RATING — MATURE & SUGGESTIVE (18+) PAIRING — shane “dio” morrissey x gender-neutral! reader GENRE(S) — drabble, neighbor! au, lead singer! dio au, romance, fluff, suggestive WORD COUNT — 2.8k WARNINGS — mature themes, suggestive content, eavesdropping, falling in love with a stranger RELEASE DATE — DEC 18TH, 2022

AUTHOR’S NOTE — another recycled fic from an old blog that i love too much to let go, so here it is! pedro said he can’t sing, but ignore that fact and please enjoy the idea of dio being a super hot & punk-style rockstar for a little while <3 might make a smutty sequel to this!

ONE.

In the mischievous midnight, it was his voice that calmed your senses the most. The man a floor above you, your window opened, and his impeccable vocals seeping into your ears. Graveled lyrics sung to what would be easily paired with the dark tones of rock or alternative music, you had never heard anything like it before. A blow of the wind would carry his words into another direction, but they always came back around. For your ears only, the pleasant melody of a stranger.

You found yourself falling asleep easier at night, whistling the tunes of the repeated songs sung by the stranger at odd hours of the day, and even once caught yourself leaning against the windowsill of your apartment just to hear him clearer.

It was a continuous feeling in your gut that pulled you to him, whether or not he was singing. You’d hear him clear his throat just before starting up another song, or even hear him laughing at himself—but they always made your limbs shiver. He enjoyed his own talent, and you began to enjoy him.

But some nights fell silent, his apartment seemingly abandoned and leaving you alone to your own thoughts. What does he do? Is this his career? Is he in a band? With such a brilliant voice, it was too straight-forward to consider the man an official performer. He could be anyone with this as his hobby, but your mind still wanted to imagine him giving these same feelings and chills to an entire crowd and not just you a floor down in your own living space.

Gut feelings, they’re seamless. Unquestionable, your instincts will always know better than your mind or heart; but you still listen to the trio in its entirety. Your mind creates scenarios you wish to play out, your heart beats harder from the imaginary feelings and reimbursing reality, but your gut always knows where to lead you: in a direction that’s for the best.

Dark pavement beneath your shoes and a walk at a later hour than usual, it turned into what you had waited for. A small club being rocked by his voice, the band at his back giving each other smiles and laughs, and every single person in the crowd shivering with that same giddy emotion.

Dio, the man now with a face on his body and his name on the chalkboard, had been performing for two hours before his eyes surfed over the packed club to find you. Weaseling your way past the man at the door just to peer inside and match with his dark brown eyes. You finally had the chance to see his smile light up the entire building and your heart all at once. Like when you make eye contact with an animal a long way away and they deem you as not being a threat, keep moving along in their world—you feel comfort from seeing him in his own space.

His eyes shined like light hitting a raven’s feathers, glazed over with tears from the blazing lights over his head. Lips forming words, his voice was louder in your ears than anyone else’s. The jewelry along his body glistened from the overhead lights—his earring dangling and moving with each of his motions, his rings clinking against the handle of the mic, his silver necklaces and bracelets only making you stare at him deeper. The use of the microphone at his mouth was almost unnecessary from his blaring pipes, each note capturing your feet in place like wet cement was at your ankles.

It was only when a hefty arm caught your shoulder and twisted around that you remembered you were a person in a body standing in the middle of the open doorway of the club. “In or out.” The guard at the door seemed tired of having to peel people away from the performance, but he only shook his head once at your appalled state.

But your tongue moved faster, eyes blinking in tandem with the thumping bass shaking the floor. “Out.” Every muscle contracting and releasing to pull you from the club, the oxygen around you only slipped back into your lungs as the familiar feeling of your apartment surrounded you.

“What are the odds?” You whispered to yourself, an estranged feeling now in your gut. You finally witnessed the man in his own world, not in the comfort of his home where he could belt out any note without feeling watched, and yet he still sang beautifully. As if the world turned for him like a record on a needle, he had everything in the palm of his hand.

And once again, midnight creeped around the corner. His voice painted a picture above, body cradled on the windowsill staring up at the stars. Completely undisturbed, your voice caught him first.

“Nice to know I’m not the only one listening to this every night.” The honking of horns and chatter of people still on the streets below didn’t cover your voice like you thought it would, Dio standing from his sitting position to peer around.

“You saw me tonight?” His brows were furrowed, but he still wore a smile on his face.

“Only for a little bit of time, but it was enough.”

“Why didn’t you stick around?” Intrigued, he dipped himself back down onto the windowsill and ignored the cold wind of the nightly air brushing against his face.

“Call me selfish, but I prefer hearing you when we’re all alone.” You laughed at yourself silently, the same out-of-body feeling in your chest as when you saw him performing earlier that night. It doesn’t seem to let up around him at all, in fact. “I can hear you clear as day when it’s just the two of us.”

“And yet, it is ironically past midnight.” His voice was deeper when he spoke versus when he sang.

“I don’t sleep well these days.” Your sentence was nearly halted by his overlapping sound, a defiant sight creating a delightfully understanding word.

“Ahh—” he chuckled. “A fellow insomniac.”

“That would be the term, yes.” You laughed back, but knew the two of you bonding was already a step above whatever scenario you could have ever created in your own head. Just like all humans, the imaginary person you dream and conceive when you’re away from a person you enjoy is only a concept of them. But Dio was filling in his own shoes, and riddling you astounded.

“So, my new friend—” All surroundings flourished so loud you could hardly make out his voice, but even you knew what he was asking. “—what song would you like to hear next?”

TWO.

One song turned into two, and two turned into three. Like getting a mixtape of your favorite songs sang by your favorite vocalist, you were in your own form of heaven. Nothing in the world could touch you, not even the things that scare you most. No stress, no worries, all of it covered by Dio’s voice until the sky broke with purple and blue and the sun fought to rise.

“Already dawn.” He smiled, the cracks of the fire escape helping you see his cheeks rise and head shake. “I kept you up all night.”

“I would have been awake anyways. You just gave me company and music all at once.” You hated admitting it, but having him singing for you—directly to you, made each night that you listened to him in silence feel like they were a dream, themselves. As if you hadn’t actually been here, only a cloud in the sky listening to the humans below.

“I don’t suppose you’d still like to stick with me?” He asked, peering down to find your eyes through the same cracks that you gazed up at. His smile was sideways, hair greasy from the humidity of the morning, and clothes from the same stage he had been on that night.

“Depends on if you go shower first.” His laugh is better than his vocals, that’s for sure.

“Same for you?” He questioned through his own cackle. “I’ll come down in forty-five minutes and we’ll go get coffee, yeah?”

“It’s a date.”

And a date, as seen by movies and media, is always chalked up to so many things at once they can make someone dizzy. Walking hand-in-hand or side-by-side, staring at their lips as they talk, someone paying for the entire meal instead of just one, and the oh-so-classic kiss at their front door before parting.

But Dio, swooning and sly-smiled, catered to it all so peacefully. Capturing your hand as you walked together down the sidewalk to the café on the corner, paying for your drink and breakfast, eyeing your mouth as you talked and told him all you could say in a short amount of time that wouldn’t leave him thinking you’re weird for speaking so much, watching you listen attentively to his own words and stories in the mix of yours, and the best part—the kiss.

“I’ve never spent so much time with a stranger.” You laughed along with him in the hopes he’d understand that you hadn’t, either. “But this was thrilling.”

His eyes admired your face with the same glistening twinkle in them as when he performs, palm now against the frame of your door. He was like an embodiment of the word charming, your eyes blinking at him like he’d fade away in a mirage.

“So,” his smile, so cherishing and warm. “What’s next?”

“What does your day consist of? Considering I’ve already taken over an entire night and morning, I’ll admit I’m not ready to part just yet.”

It was the word ‘part’ that brought his pearled teeth to shine between his lips, his back to lean him forward, his face to turn opposite of yours to find your mouth in a deep kiss. Like he was sucking the air from you, you pulled back in an abrupt way that made even him laugh.

“Another try?” You asked, eyes squinting from embarrassment before they relaxed. He didn’t miss a beat, pressing his lips to yours for a second kiss.

Small movement, softness, and a flutter of your heart. The man you had listened to sing into the night’s air, faceless and nameless, had swept you off your feet with his voice and made you find solace so simply. Dio, an obvious enjoyer of life and your shaking limbs in his hold as you both smiled into the kiss, had become someone important to your little world.

“What is the extreme measure here?” You asked with a heaving voice, his eyebrow cocking in wonder.

“Such as me coming into your apartment with you after only knowing you for a little over ten hours now?”

Your smile made him nod, voice small from his warm glare. “Such as exactly that.”

“Why wonder what could be if you can act on it?”

Standing outside of your own apartment with a shiver running up your spine from his words, he truly did make you think. You could have said nothing last night, listened to him contently like you did every night he was home—and yet you spoke up. You could have made the conversation small, let it wither away—but you let it continue on. It was a common factor, letting your control slip from your grasp, that gave you the confidence to befriend the stranger in the first place. So why not take control now and play this out for what it is?

“Come right in, then.”

THREE.

Nightfall, hours of spilling life to one another, and Dio with his chin in his palm and his eyes following your pacing form. Oblivious to the tiredness in your bones, darkening eyes, and slowing pace: normally you’d be crashing from sleeplessness at a time like this. But the adrenaline in your veins couldn’t leave your form with Dio here, so close.

Back and forth, his stories filling your mind and helping you piece the man together. All while yours gave him a better idea of who had been listening. You had gotten more out of today than the month of listening to his voice sing notes of love songs, pain, and happiness all together did—and the lingering feeling in your stomach never subsided.

“What makes you excited?” His question caught you off guard, the few seconds of silence finally letting your mind race with the reality of having him in your safe space as he truly is.

“Hmm?” The sound wasn’t just from your curiosity of what he meant, but what he was expecting the answer to be.

“What do you think about that makes your heart race from the thought alone? Or what do you do that makes your hands shake from enthusiasm?” He asked questions that left you on the edge of your seat and made his mind seem like a huge puzzle for you to solve. You couldn’t configure what was next, and that’s what differentiated from him in your mind and the man sitting before you now.

“There are so many examples in life that make us giddy.” He began to explain. “Sex, love, romantic acts done to or around us; they make our heart beat faster. Stepping down one step and accidentally slipping down a second is another, but it’s less controlled. Do you enjoy control?” His words seemed nearly perverted, but he had a point. When you section life off as things that can and cannot be controlled, you’re left with two very different sides.

“Control is overrated.” Your response made him sit back, rub his index finger against the line of his bottom lip, and his eyes roll over your frame from head to toe. “If I had any, true, sense of control—we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Valid response.” He nodded, but a pout was suddenly worn on his face. “But—” His voice was evident of a lingering question, one that had been missed multiple times all day due to not being the right moment. “—how long have you been listening to me sing from above?”

“Around a month, maybe.”

“And you said no words, just listened?” You nodded at his questions, but your gut only tightened. “I was like your little secret.” The smirk on his lips overtook the pout, his eyes glazed over with a filter of courage and libido. “Is that what makes you excited? The thought of me?”

His palm moved from his chin to his knee in tandem with his other hand, the sweat forming from his own excitement being pressed into the fabric of his jeans.

“If I say yes to any of this—” His face was centered with yours, your pacing form finally moving in his direction after hours of keeping a respectful distance. “—would you consider me a creep?”

“And if I say I knew this entire time that you were listening to me, would you consider me a coward for not calling out to you first?”

The long nights of his vocals filling the air, all other neighbors ignoring the sound and going on with their evenings, but you being the only one to listen. It was stupid of you to think it wasn’t obvious, the sound of your window sliding open when the first note left his throat until the last echoed into the darkness. He had known for weeks, but you were on the same page of keeping your distance.

It takes every human emotion and instinct to hold back from doing something simple, common, and natural. The fight is like war—mentally, emotionally, and physically. He held back just as you did, two strangers enjoying each other’s company in silence.

“I would consider you human.” You spoke up, your body feeling the heat radiating off his own as you fell down at his side to stare at him evenly. “All this time, and neither of us did anything.”

“Separate worlds mixing for a mere few hours a night, huh?” He laughed like he was being spoiled by the universe, and you were his muse.

“One last question.” You asked, tilting your head to the side. Dio, casually placing his hand over your knee to rub the pad of his thumb in a circle, hummed in response. “Do we keep learning about each other, or return to the pleasing abyss?”

You meet a stranger. Hear their voice, smell their scent, catch their sight—once or repeatedly. And yet they stay at the front of your brain, the image of them like mental polaroids. Why is it that we fall in love with strangers? Everyone you meet is a stranger until you get to know them, but how can you know you love them if you’ve never met them?

One answer resides, and you didn’t have to question it for a split second—that gut feeling.

“Your call, stranger.”

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal scenarios #shane dio morrissey fanfic #shane dio morrissey fic #shane dio morrissey x reader #dio x reader #dio morrissey x reader

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sneetsnootyoit · 11 months

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Protected From the Past

Dio Morrissey x gn!Reader

Summary: Fluff with Dio. That's the fic

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings and shit: panic attacks, past trauma, absolute FLUFF NO USE OF Y/N

A/N: Usage of the nickname "birdie" inspired by Strange Love by angstyamy on Ao3 - It's very spicy and I would absolutely recommend it.

When you met Dio, he was a bartender at your favorite place, QXT's Night Club. You'd been going there for a while. The vibe was comfortable, and the people were great. You became known as a regular face around there, and all the staff knew you by name. You weren't a heavy drinker, you just liked going to hang out and enjoy the ambience.

When Dio started working there, you thought he was a little odd. He was closed off and conceited. He held himself like he was better than those around him, and he claimed that he had the answers to gaining access to the 'next level'. You thought it was pretty goofy, but you listened anyway. He was cute and you liked hearing him talk. Something about his voice made you feel at ease. That, or you just thought he had a sexy voice.

After a few months, he started to open up to you, and you learned that about a year ago, he'd been arrested for stabbing a guy, and by dumb luck, the guy decided he didn't want to press charges and they let him walk. He was on parole for a while, and he was sick of working with 'drones'. Once you started getting to know him better, he started to flirt with you. It was unexpected, and his flirting was odd. He offered to take you under his wing and show you 'his ways'. He also defended you from creeps as best he could. It took a while before you caved and agreed to go out with him. He took you to a garden that was near a cemetery late at night, and you had dinner under the moonlight. It was actually very romantic, and it brought out another side of him that you hadn't seen before. As time went on, you grew closer, and you started hanging out at his place. Some nights, you'd wait until he got off work and go back to his apartment with him so you could watch shitty movies and eat takeout. You started dating, and it was actually pretty nice. He put up a kind of facade in public, but behind closed doors, he was a completely different person.

One evening, you'd gone out for a walk with Dio, and you'd stumbled upon a crime scene. You caught a glimpse of the body as they were loading it into the ambulance and gasped quietly, tugging on Dio's sleeve to urge him to leave. He was gazing upon the scene for a moment before something caught his eye and he immediately turned around and the two of you began heading back towards his apartment. He had a slightly panicked look on his face and seemed to be walking hurriedly, so you made sure to match his pace. When you got back to his place, you wanted to ask questions, but it didn't seem like the right time. After a couple hours, there was a knock on his door, and he looked at it, annoyed.

"You want me to get it?"

Dio didn't say anything, so you went ahead and opened the door. You were met by two men in suits. It was pretty obvious they were cops, and your breath caught in your throat when you saw them. You knew that Dio had some issues with the detectives that handled his case, which left him more weary of cops than he was before he got arrested.

"We're looking for Shane Morrissey," one of the men said, trying to peek around you into the apartment.

"Did he do something?"

"We need to ask him a couple of questions. It can either happen here or down at the station in cuffs. Doesn't matter much to me."

You felt Dio's presence behind you before his hand reached around you to grab the edge of the door, pulling it open. "What do you want?"

"Where were you today, Shane?"

"It's Dio. But you already knew that," he sneered, gripping the door tightly. You could feel the tension radiating off of him.

"You gonna answer the question?" The second cop asked, hand moving toward the handcuffs on his belt.

"I was here all day."

"Anyone who can support that, Dio?" The first cop asked, leaning towards him.

"I can," you interrupted, glaring at the detectives in front of you. "I came over last night when he got off work around 3 am. We ate and watched a movie, then we slept. We haven't left this apartment all fucking day, alright? What, you think he killed that guy?"

The second detective almost seemed amused by how defensive you were, but the first one was simply annoyed. "With the way he reacted when we made eye contact at the scene? Absolutely," he responded, and you scoffed. "If any part of this story doesn't check out, we'll be coming back to put your ass in cuffs."

"Eat shit and die, pigs," Dio sneered as they started to walk away. Before he closed the door, you stopped him and shook your head.

"No, eat shit and live. Live with the knowledge of what you've done," you corrected, closing the door.

Dio would've laughed at your add-on if he hadn't been absolutely terrified that he was about to get arrested. When you turned around and saw the look on his face, you immediately understood. You took hold of his hand and brought him back over to the couch, urging him to sit down so you could straddle his thighs and sit in his lap.

He instinctively put his trembling hands on your hips and you scooted closer to him, cupping his face in your hands. His gaze was distant and his breathing was heavy. You'd never seen Dio have a panic attack before and you weren't quite sure what to do, so you just did what you thought would help.

"Hey, it's okay," you whispered, bringing his head to your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead. "They’re gone. Besides, you didn’t do anything wrong." You paused. “Did you know those guys?”

Dio's breaths came out shaky and he slowly wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly as he nodded. “Those were the guys who arrested me,” he mumbled into your chest, voice trembling just as much as his hands.

"You're going to be okay, dove," you assured him, using one hand to card your fingers through his hair and the other to rub circles into his back. He began to relax against you and after a little while, his breathing began to even out. He kept you close to him once he started to calm down, and when he finally lifted his face to look at you, you could see the redness of his eyes and the tears that had fallen. You didn't say anything as you wiped his tears away with the sleeve of your hoodie and pressed your forehead to his, gently stroking a thumb across his jaw. "My sweet dove," you murmured, letting your nose brush his.

He sighed out your name and you hummed, playing with his hair. "I have no idea what I did to allow the universe to gift me someone as amazing as you, birdie."

"You didn't have to do anything. You just existed."

IF YOU WANT TO SEE MY SHIT ON AO3 ITS >HERE<

#fanfics #dio morrissey #shane dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #gn!reader #no y/n #fluff #like #so much fluff #tiny angst #dio needs a hug #traumatised bby #little rat man #pedro pascal #i love pedro pascal #i sTill have no shame #this is only the beginning #jaspre writes #OKAY BYE

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artemiseamoon · 11 months

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Recent updates

PP - werewolf / investigator Frankie x werecat oc

The Moon in May 2023 fic

Premier (prologue and chapter 1) - Dancer between worlds

Pitch Black

Finale - Stay in the light

PP - Ezra x ofc soulmate au

Finale - Elysian

PP - Private security Frankie x ofc

Update - Damage control

IWTV - Vampire Lily

Update - A Lily Among Thorns

Sneak peak

Shane Dio Morrissey x omc

Do you ever crave it?

Wips

#updates #recent works #wips #multi fandom

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always-andromeda · 8 months

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Here's my masterlist for the Haunted Hoedown Challenge!! Thank you to @inklore and @psychedelic-ink for organizing such a unique challenge!! I tried to put together a fairly diverse list of characters who I have written for and have wanted to write for. So hopefully this helps bring me out of my writing slump a little. Depending on how things go, some of these may change or may not be written at all. Either way, this list will definitely be updated as the challenge progresses!!

Please keep in mind that this challenge contains NSFW content and some of the works listed below will contain dark themes. Minors, please do not interact with these works and please read my content warnings. Take care of yourself, friends.

Banner inspo goes to @inklore and divider credits go to @saradika!!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ✯ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋, 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Father Paul Hill x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + "Everything I've done...every atrocity, it's been for you."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ✯ 𝐋'𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐔 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Jeff (Gone Girl) x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ “Tell me you want me back. Tell me I'm forgiven.” + the toxic exes trope

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ✯ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Edward Nashton x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ daydreaming about being with you is better than actually being with you because i missed all the red flags and now it's too late + "You're a monster." + "That's never stopped you before."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ✯ 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ DBF!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + once is not enough + "Do you like when I touch you like this? I can keep going if you want me to."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ✯ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Professor!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + dark academia + “I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it.”

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ✯ 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Love Quinn x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ stalker au + “Don't you know how sick with love I am for you?”

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ✯ 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Demon!Joby Taylor x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ a ritual gone wrong and now i'm bound to a demon + "You're mine, whether you agree or not."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ✯ 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ slasher / summer camp au + sex in the woods + “This is so fucked up.” + “But you like it.”

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ✯ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Javier Peña x Fem!Reader x Steve Murphy

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ inspired by your favorite Lana Del Rey song + love triangle gone wrong + “Finders keepers.”

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐍 ✯ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Ezra (Prospect) x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ shapeshifter au + "He's a monster." + "He's perfect."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ✯ 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ gothic au + “Worship me. Until I tell you to stop.” + priest au

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 ✯ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ 1970s porno filming + orgasm denial/overstimulation/edging + “You’re not actually scared are you? Of me?”

#hauntedhoedown #haunted hoedown

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existential-angstt · 11 months

Text

Pay Attention Please (P. 5) // (professor) Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Reader

A/N: all right babes you've made it 4 chapters this is the first SMUT get ready to be hornyyyyyyyyyyyyyou've earned it

Taglist: @lokanda

It…. was both nothing like what you expected and exactly what you’d pictured all at once. It wasn’t too large, but it was definitely more than enough for one person, especially in this city. The furniture was fair but mismatched like there was no real plan to the room. There was a small coffee table, a couch, an armchair, and a tv on an entertainment stand over to the right– you noted the small houseplant basking in the sunny window past the couch- and to the left was a small tidy kitchen.

The cabinets and fixtures were slightly dingy with age but kept clean and neat. For Professor Morrissey not expecting visitors, everything was very clean.

Maybe… he did expect visitors. Based on what he said at the cafe, maybe this is exactly what he expected you to do.

“Mrow! Mrow, mrow- mrow mrow mrow-” You turned and a big slightly chubby black cat came strutting out from the back of the apartment (where you guessed his room was). He bent down to scratch at the cat for a second before stepping past it to go put his stuff down in a different room. The cat then beelined for you, sniffing and all over very interested in you.

You leaned down to pet the cat and it started purring at you. “That’s Switch,” Professor Morrissey said, back in the main room with you. “Switch?” You said, straightening back up.

He scooped the cat up in his arms like a baby and the cat seemed to love it, looking up at him softly and purring. “Switchblade,” he said, giving her more pets, the rings on his fingers glinting in her black fur. You snorted as he turned and carried her over to the kitchen counter. “Easy,” he said, back still turned to you as he set her down on the counter. You bit back a grin and watched him crack open a can of wet cat food and set it in front of her. “There you go, sweetheart,” he murmured softly.

“So?”

He looked up at you. “So what?”

“What’s your name?”

He snorted again. He was so pretty when he smiled. God.

“You’re not getting it that easily,” he replied.

You pulled yourself up onto one of the bar stools where Switch was having her dinner. Professor Morrisey was still standing there petting her. He eyed you for a moment and you looked up at him innocently, wondering what was running through his mind based on that little smirk you could see tugging at the corner of his mouth. He took a step back and turned to the fridge, opening it.

“What kind of food do you like?” he said, eyes roving over its contents. You looked up at him and then at the fridge and back. “W- what?”

He looked back at you. Was this kitchen abnormally small or was he just that large of a dude? Everything felt too small in here for him, but he navigated around perfectly.

“Well, you’ve followed me home. I assume I’m feeding you,” he looked back at the fridge. “How about some peanut butter on a spoon?”

You scrunched your nose. “Pass,” you replied. He laughed.

“Pizza it is, princess.”

Your head jerked up and you were pretty sure from his tone it was just a quip but something deep inside of you liked that. Liked it too much. He noticed, dammit. He looked back at you, smirk pulling at his mouth again as he pulled out his phone. “What kind of pizza you like?” he was grinning at his phone. You were halfway between telling him to shove it and getting on your knees to beg him to say it again.

“Uh- whatever. Pepperoni?”

“Mmmmm,” a small groan from him, “a classic.”

The pizza came in no time at all and you both chowed down, eating in hungry silence. You hadn’t had anything all day and you suspected his story was the same. While he cleaned up, you found yourself wandering around his apartment cradling your drink, looking at everything. Different things were hung up on the walls- art, photography, all dark. A black and white still of a hiking trail not too far out of town, a painting of what seemed to be the underworld dappled with glowing blue flowers.

There was a black electric guitar in the corner that your eyes rested on for a moment, sly grin, ready to tease him about it when you heard him pad over to you and noticed the low movie rack to the right of the guitar. “You wanna pick one?”

You turned around and looked up at him, the little ice cubes in your drink rattling against the glass. He was looking at you and then he motioned towards the movies. “A movie?” you said.

He looked at you– in such a way that he was still soft and domestic but you could barely see a smirk behind his eyes. “You’ve followed me home. We’ve dined. Now I have to entertain you, do I not? What other reason could you have possibly followed me home, hm?” You were caught in his gaze for a moment, just looking up at him as he smirked down at you with those sweet dark eyes. You looked back down at the shelf, unable to take the intensity anymore.

You saw a few familiar titles, some mainstream things. He definitely had an extensive collection. One title caught your eye out of anything and it wasn’t one you’d seen before. He hummed as you plucked it off the shelf to inspect the case. “One of my favorites,” he murmured.

“I’ve never seen it,” you admitted, reading the back. It sounded interesting enough and it looked dark. Not just dark as in the storyline but the whole case was black and most of the screencaps on the back looked darkly toned. He took it from you gently and bent down to slide it into the disk player resting beneath the tv. You took a seat on his couch, finding it was much cushier than you expected. After a moment he sat down next to you, a little farther away than you would’ve liked.

“People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.”

Mr. Morrissey hopped up off the couch and padded over toward the kitchen. “Wait, where are you going-” you said, scrambling for the remote. He chuckled the pretty chuckle that gave you butterflies and said, “Relax, I’m coming right back.” He popped something in the microwave and while it was cooking came over to refill your drink with a soft murmur of “my lady” as he poured as though he were some gentleman at a ball requesting a dance. You had a sneaking suspicion about what was in the microwave and it didn’t take long before the popping sound proved it.

A moment later he padded back over with the popcorn and actually sat a little closer to you so you could reach into the bag. You were quietly very very smug with yourself for getting yourself in this position but you ate quietly and watched the movie which already had you hooked. Slowly, as the movie went on the two of you drew a little closer, inches apart in that place where your skin begins to prickle because you’re so close to another person. At some point in the middle, he laid his arm on the back of the couch behind you and as minutely as you could you leaned into it.

By the end, you had soft tear tracks down your face that you were slightly anxious for him to see but you hadn’t been able to help yourself– it was such a good movie and the ending was so bittersweet. As the credits started to roll, he said softly, “Did you like it?” You nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder, only a little in case he pulled away.

“Yeah… I really did. That was really good.” There was a moment of silence of just you resting your head on his shoulder, feeling it move slightly every now and again with his breathing. But a second later it was over as he gently pulled out from under you and got up, taking your empty glass and the popcorn bag over to the kitchen. As you watched him, your eyes caught on an album on the lower shelf of the coffee table. Your eyes flicked over to him– his back was to you as he started washing the dishes from the pizza earlier.

You tugged out the album and flipped it open. And you were surprised to see…..a young Professor Morrissey. Along with a lot of other people you didn’t know, mostly clad in black and chains. You skimmed the pictures, trying to see as much as you could before he came back because he might tug it away from you. You flipped another page and then instantly flipped back, eyes caught on some writing on a Polaroid.

Raven and Dio, 1997

Your eyes snapped back up to him, still standing at the sink, turning off the water. You hurriedly shut the book and carefully shoved it back under the table. Not a second later, he came back and flopped back down onto the sofa a foot or two away from you and looked at you. “What now?” he said, that barely hidden amusement once again on his face.

A slight smirk started to creep onto your face and you turned to face him, getting a little closer. “Well…,” you said, eyeing him, “traditionally, if this were a date, this would be the part where you’d try to get me to put out,” you gave him a cocky grin. He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, his amusement more apparent, and said, “Now what makes you think this was a date?”

You took the opportunity to, in one swift motion, pull yourself across the couch and onto his lap, straddling him, gently resting your forearms on his shoulders and lacing your hands behind his head. His face only barely gave him away; he kept that smug little grin on his face but you were watching him closely and it wavered for a moment, just a flash of something uncertain yet excited.

He looked up at you like he was still the one in control but you could practically feel the electricity rolling off his skin, feel the micro-twitches that indicated he wanted to move, move in a way that you’d like. “Well,” you said, softly, a little breathless as you brought one of your hands back to trace at his bottom lip with a thumb. You half expected him to call that “the line” and shrug you off but he seemed too enraptured to move. Lowly, you continued, “You seem to be enjoying yourself just fine… Dio,” and before he could react at all, you leaned in to kiss him deeply.

You were surprised at how he moved– you thought he’d freeze up and then stop you, push you off, tell you that was enough, but instead, you got a soft open-mouthed moan from him and he was crushing his lips against yours, a hand reaching up to tangle in your hair and pull you closer sharply, the other hand gripping at your hip roughly as he pushed up into your kiss. The air left your chest with the intensity of it, kissing him back and now desperately trying to keep up with his pace.

He squeezed your hip with a ringed hand, making you gasp, your mouth falling open. He took the chance to push his hot wet tongue into your mouth, licking at your tongue. You made another soft noise and it was all you could do to reach up and pull softly at the hair at the back of his neck. He let out some kind of low rumbly noise in his chest, the hand on your hip loosening its grip to explore just under the hem of your shirt, his palm pressed flat against your bare flesh. You were so focused on his hand exploring your boundaries that you were caught off guard when he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and then gave it a sharp little nip, eliciting a groan from you.

Your hips shifted on instinct and your eyes sprang open at what you could feel pressed hard between your legs. He slowly blinked his dark eyes open, your mouths still working at each other. An inch or two apart they looked honey golden instead of the rich dark brown that looked black in some lights. Testingly, you gave his hair another tug and shifted your hips at the same time, grinding downwards. He moaned lowly, his eyelids fluttering before he was looking at you again, that same hungry darkness his eyes had in his office. That should have scared you but it didn’t.

Your free hand started working its way downwards, pushing between the two of you, reaching for him– in the blink of an eye, he had your wrist in a vice-like grip, looking at you. “What do you think you’re doing?” he murmured, looking at you so intensely you knew he expected a real answer. You just looked at him for a moment, breathing off-kilter, trying to think of what to say. All you could get out was, “Dio.” He seemed to twitch, almost the beginning of a small shudder, but he didn’t let go of your wrist.

His other hand left your hair and pull at your other wrist so he was holding both your hands in his much larger ones, keeping them from going anywhere. “What’re you after?” he murmured. “You,” you panted back instantly, eyes darting across his features from his eyes to his mouth. You only had one thing left so you used it– you grinded down hard against his cock which was pressed between your legs in a way that was so tantalizing.

He let out a sharp moan, squeezing your wrists tightly and you gave a little hiss. Your heart was racing and you could feel yourself throbbing– you’d be a little surprised if your pants weren’t soaked through with how wet you were. “Y/n…,” he said lowly.

“Please,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss him again, deeply. He let you for only a moment before he was pushing you back, holding you at a length so you couldn’t do anything. You didn’t dare grind again, waiting to see what his decision would be. His breathing was still irregular but he was looking away from you and seeming to consider things. “Please,” you murmured again.

You didn’t even see him make the decision but next thing you knew he was standing up, hoisting you up like you were nothing, and carrying you into the room across the apartment, the one you guessed was his bedroom. You were pleased to find your assumption correct when he dropped you down on his bed, where you bounced a little and then laid sprawled out in front of him. He climbed up on top of you, finding your hands again and pinning them above your head on the mattress, pressing himself down into you and catching you in another deep kiss, nipping at your lip. You moaned softly and bucked up into him, his grip on your hands a vice.

He shifted so he could pin your wrists with one hand, the other reaching down to pull up your shirt, pushing it up so your chest was exposed. He let out a soft groan and when you were able to look at him again, you could swear he was drooling. He sank down on your chest with his mouth, kissing and licking and leaving little nips across your chest. You gasped and panted softly, so needy for this to move faster but so helpless to do anything to that effect.

A second later he was letting go of your wrists so he could fully peel off your shirt and sports bra. You sat up to help him, practically tearing the clothes off. He let out another satisfied groan, seeming to forget about pinning your wrists back so when he sank his hot mouth on one of your tits, you were able to pull him closer and tug at his hair at the same time. He nipped sharply at your nipple when you tugged so you cried out and bucked your hips up into him again.

You didn’t know how he moved so fast you couldn’t even see him but without warning his hand was between your legs, just applying pressure and exploring over the top of your pants. You let out a surprised moan that ended in a needy little whimpering sound. His hand felt huge against your center and you felt like you could cum at just the thought of how it’d feel inside you.

He lifted his head to switch tits, licking at your nipple and still feeling around, his eyes on you the entire time. You felt like you couldn’t breathe and your eyes were practically rolling back involuntarily.

“You like that?” he said lowly. “Is this what you’ve been looking for for so long?”

You gave him a sharp moan in payment, your hips twitching again.

He chuckled low and you felt like you’d been on the verge of an orgasm for ten minutes now. “Look at you… so needy for me, trying anything to get me to touch you, to fuck you,” he mumbled against your chest. You whimpered helplessly, needing so much for him to just do it already so you could stop hovering in this place of almost-cumming. He kissed back up your chest reaching your jaw and then your cheek, his eyes on yours, watching every move.

“Do you want me to?” he said lowly. You nodded furiously, your whole body on fire.

“Say ‘yes’, princess, c’mon. Be a good girl,” he hummed in that same low tone.

“Y- yes- yes p- yes- please-” you gasped out, your blood thrumming in your ears.

He made a pleased noise and sat up to pull off his shirt. You started reaching shakily for your pants, trying to remember how pants worked, how to unzip, how to get them off, but your eyes found themselves caught on his chest. His nipples were pierced. Two identical silver bars with a ball at each end winked at you from his nipples. You moaned deeply at the sight, your hands losing any sense they had a second ago. He only seemed more pleased, reaching down to undo the proper claps and zippers, pulling off your pants and then his and throwing them off the bed. Lastly, he tugged off his boxers, a large wet spot evident on the front of them. He was exactly as needy for you as you were for him.

When you caught sight of his cock, you nearly fainted. He was….. Big. Not necessarily girthy or overly long– perfectly proportioned but large, certainly the biggest you’d ever seen. Your insides fluttered at the thought of that inside of you, filling you up.

You registered the wet sound before you registered his fingers were brushing over your entrance, testing, searching. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, princess, is this all for me?” You nodded desperately, whimpering, nearly trembling with need. Luckily he seemed just as eager because he didn’t waste another moment before he laid back down on top of you and slowly pushed himself inside. You both groaned lowly as he bottomed out inside of you. You could feel the head of his cock so deeply inside, pressing against your cervix and your eyes rolled back, wanting to grip him tightly but not having the strength of mind or body to do so.

“You-” he panted softly, his breath hitting your cheek, “you feel so good,” he groaned, resting his head on your chest for a moment, just catching his breath. You cradled his head against your chest, fingers laced in his hair. He pressed a few open-mouthed kisses against your collarbone, sitting up again so he could slowly start moving his hips, pulling almost out of you and then pushing back in.

You moaned so deeply and gave his hair a sharp tug. He gasped and his hips jerked into you hard and you were finally able to look up at him with wide hazy eyes. His eyes were so dark and rich as his hips twitched slowly, just warming up, his soft mouth plush and pink and his cheeks flooded with color. You used your handhold in his hair to tug him back down to your mouth, bucking your hips up into him. He moaned and kissed you back, starting to fuck you a little faster, a little harder, the head of his cock brushing your cervix with every thrust in.

He pulled back a little, fucking you a little harder, making you give a soft little moan with every thrust, but your eyes were still closed from the kiss and all the pleasure being shoved into your body. You felt his ringed hand on your cheek, holding your face, and his soft voice as he said, “Look at me.”

You did as he said and blinked wide soft eyes at him, trying to focus enough to obey him. He rewarded you by moving a little faster, his eyes on yours, each of you almost studying the other. His mouth was parted so prettily, his breath hitting your face in short hot bursts. You moaned and shuddered. “D- Dio-”

He bucked into you hard, making you cry out. “That’s right, princess, say my name-” he said, fucking you hard now. You whimpered, chanting his name with every thrust. “D-Dio- Dio- Dio-” you whined, so close, “Dio, pl- I’m- please-”

“Cum for me, give it to me, princess- it's all mine- come on, it’s mine, I want it,” he murmured low and breathy, fucking the life out of you. You came hard with a cry, squeezing him so tightly, eyes squeezed shut, and you heard him join you a moment later, his hips freezing mid-thrust to shakily push the rest of the way into you, trembling a little before he collapsed on top of you.

He was kinda heavy but there wasn’t much you could do about it just now. You held him as close as you could, wrapping your legs around him so he was locked in place, so he wouldn’t go anywhere, cradling him against you. He seemed almost as limp and weak as you were, just laying against you panting heavily, both of you still twitching and shaking with aftershocks.

#NYPD Blue #dio x you #dio morrissey x reader #shane dio morrissey #dio morrissey #dio x reader #Pedro Pascal

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littlemisspascal · 2 years

Text

The Infinity Cube Part 16

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Chapter Pairing: Dio x Female Reader

Word Count: 2000+

Series Summary: When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: Language, Angst, Dio is literally the Devil in disguise, Major plot development, Dialogue heavy

Author Note: Thank you everybody for your kind support of this fic! I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog 💝

PART 1 / PART 15 / PART 17

“Nice move, making a wish on the Dreamstone,” Dio says, and it might have come across as a sincere compliment if your ears didn’t detect a note of patronization. He takes a seat on the couch, tossing the cube up in the air like it’s a toy won out of an arcade game. “Absolutely zero chance of success, but still. Nice. The Infinity Cube is a multiversal power and the Dreamstone’s just a lucky rock limited to the boundaries of this reality. It’s like trying to use a butter knife to open a bank vault–a fancy, billion-dollar butter knife though, I’ll give you that. Only used for royalty or when your mother-in-law visits.”

You turn your gaze away from him when he starts laughing at his own joke, halfway convinced you hit your head harder than you thought and all this is a hallucination. Considering how fuzzy the rest of Maxwell’s office looks, colors muted and furniture blurry at the edges, it’s hard to be certain one way or the other. Your gaze sweeps over the room, brow furrowing when there’s no visible trace of Maxwell.

“You won’t find him,” Dio claims, causing your head to snap back in his direction. Can he read your thoughts? “I…displaced him for the time being. This chat only concerns me and you.”

For a moment you say nothing, only thinking of One Direction lyrics blaring on loop in your head, but when he doesn’t react, not even the slightest facial twitch, you let yourself marginally relax. He’s not a mind reader, just observant.

“Displaced?” you ask finally.

“Relax,” he drags the word out, catching the cube midair before rolling his head sideways to look at you. “He’s still alive. No need to keep thinking the worst of me.”

You arch a disbelieving eyebrow. “You’re the Devil.”

He tips his head. “Fair point.”

Oh, good lord, you think, scrubbing a hand over your face and feeling moments away from losing what little patience you possess. The corner of Dio’s mouth quirks up, but when he speaks again there’s no longer any hints of teasing.

“You’ve lasted longer than the rest of your past selves,” he says as he takes a seat further down the couch from you, correctly sensing you don’t want him close. “Previous record was only eight universes. She fell for a tattoo artist, if my memory’s correct.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest, pretending the news doesn’t affect you or cause your heart to drop somewhere on the floor near your feet.

Dio’s black eyes glimmer in a way that turns the breath in your lungs to ash. Every cell in your body is screaming at you to run away, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. As long as he desires your attention, you’re trapped with him.

“Because the cube likes you, Specs.”

“Bullshit,” you blurt out, scoffing derisively. “No fucking way. That thing hates me.”

“No,” he shakes his head, nothing but seriousness in every line of his face. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. Think about it. The glowing symbols, the vibrations, showing up exactly when and where you need it.”

You scoff. “I hardly call showing up in my daughter’s crib–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Dio waggles a reproachful finger at you. “Careful there, Specs. She was never yours, remember?”

A sharp pang of hurt slices through your body. You swallow hard, averting your eyes, thinking it would have been kinder of him to shoot you.

“I don’t care whether you believe me or not,” Dio continues, though his tone is noticeably gentler, “but it’s the truth. The cube wants you to succeed as much as I do.”

Your gaze lingers on a random spot on the wall, unwittingly thinking back to when you’d seen the cube glow right before entering Frankie’s universe. You thought it’d been taunting you, trying to provoke your anger, but what if you’ve been wrong all this time? What if the glow wasn’t intended to antagonize you, but instead meant to encourage you? God, you’ve never felt more confused.

“Why do you want me to solve the cube?” you ask, not bothering to conceal your suspicion when you turn back to him. “You said it yourself, it’s your greatest invention. Shouldn’t you be thrilled it’s still ruining my life?”

“Repetition creates familiarity. Familiarity breeds contempt,” Dio says in that same low, placid intonation. It’s disconcerting, how harmless he looks sitting there with his legs crossed, lulling you into a false state of calm with his soft voice. You’ve barely known him for ten minutes and you already hate him.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m bored, Specs. The thrill of the punishment is gone. Now it has just become tedious.”

Your eyes flick between the cube still held in his hands and his face. “So, if I solve the cube, then the cycle will be over? No more universe hopping?”

Dio nods. “Correct.”

“And the thief will get his heart back? Both of them?”

At that, Dio’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. Then, so low you it’s almost inaudible, you swear you hear him mutter, “Of course you figured it out, clever girl…”

The words wash over you like rain after years of drought. You soak them up, barely resisting the urge to crow with delight because the truth’s finally been confirmed, because the thief’s dear is still alive after all this time.

“It can be arranged,” he says after another beat, voice returning to its regular volume, smooth as velvet.

“Nuh uh, you’ve got to do better than that if you want my cooperation.” You give him a firm look, staring him straight in the eyes. “Swear to me.”

Dio stares back at you, and you can feel how serious this moment is, like a knife sinking into your spinal cord. This isn’t just an ordinary promise—you’re making a deal with the Devil. Oh, fuck, if your heart beats any faster you think it’ll burst out of your chest.

The smirk that grows on his face is definitely more flirtatious than the seriousness of the conversation calls for. “Stubborn and clever. I like those qualities in a woman.”

For a second, you honestly consider giving into your desire of punching him in the throat. But as long as he’s still holding the cube you’re reluctant to piss him off, terrified he’ll leave you behind in this universe.

Before you can let loose the snappy retort on your tongue, his expression sobers, onyx gaze solemn. “If you solve the cube and return it to me,” Dio says with quiet sincerity, “then I swear the immediate release of the thief’s heart and his love’s soul. Everything will return to the way it was before his transgressions.”

You watch him for a few seconds longer, searching his expression for any signs of deceit but ultimately find none. Still, you hesitate to respond. It’s undeniably risky, giving the cube back to Dio, but it’s also hard to ignore the benefits of this deal. The thief will get his heart, his dear will get her soul, and you–you’ll get your whole life back. You’ll get Marcus back.

“Okay,” you agree, and your voice is hoarse yet steady, firm. “It’s a deal.”

It’s the selfish choice, but you’ll make it every time if it means you get to stay up late watching black-and-white movies and eating strawberry cheesecake on the couch and falling asleep in your love’s arms for the rest of your life.

Dio’s smirk returns once more, though this time it’s smug rather than seductive. “Great. I’ve got better trophies to hold onto than a minor-league thief’s heart and his sappy girlfriend’s soul anyways.”

Guilt claws at you when desire immediately blooms in the darkest corner of your mind to see the contents of his trophy room. If Dio considered the thief—self-proclaimed greatest in all the worlds—minor-league then just who did he consider a big deal?

“Now, back to the Infinity Cube,” Dio continues, interrupting your wandering thoughts of serial killers and cult leaders by waving the cube in your direction. “You’re close to solving it, I can tell.”

“You sure about that?” you ask, scratching nervously at the back of your neck. “Before you arrived, I couldn’t even get the sides to turn.”

“Of course I’m sure,” he answers with an irritated huff. “Did you try to turn it before you met your Brown Eyes?”

“I…” Your fingers still, eyebrows creasing with a mixture of confusion and frustration. “Why does that matter?”

“That’s an obvious yes.” For a second time, Dio scolds you with a waggling, disappointed finger. “You’re giving me whiplash, girl. One minute you’re clever, the next you ask something so unbelievably stupid–”

“Oh, fuck you,” you spit, cutting him off.

“Promises, promises.” Dio gives your body a slow, blatant once-over. You resist showing him your middle finger, thinking he’ll say or do something even more inappropriate, like lick it.

“Just get to the point,” you grumble.

“Spoilsport,” he says with a pout before sitting up straighter, presenting the cube with one hand while gesturing at it with the other. “Look, it’s actually quite simple. Part of the cube’s punishment is for you to keep falling in love over and over and over again. It knows when you meet your Brown Eyes. Only after that meeting and only if you’re strong enough to resist merging can you move onto another. Them’s the breaks.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. If your plan hadn’t been a failure before, now it’s officially dead and buried without any chance of resuscitation.

“I know it sucks,” Dio says, attempting to sound sympathetic and missing by a mile. “In my defense though, there’s not a lot of anger management classes in hell and I was definitely feeling a strong amount of anger towards the thief when I designed the cube. Did I mention he tried to steal from me?”

Poor man, my heart bleeds for you, you think sardonically, mentally rolling your eyes. But you’re unable to curb your curiosity and the question rolls off your tongue before you can stop it. “What was it he tried to take?”

You imagine the item must be something unique or extremely shiny or potentially both to have caught the thief’s attention. Undoubtedly expensive to fit in with the rest of his mansion’s collection.

“My favorite bottle of wine.”

You laugh, a loud, incredulous sound that bursts out of your throat.

Dio doesn’t laugh or chuckle along with you. Doesn’t even crack a smile.

Your humor fades, replaced with raised eyebrows of disbelief. “You–You’re kidding, right?”

He simply shakes his head.

Anger churns inside of you, bubbling against the inside of your rib cage like an enraged volcano, until it escapes in an infuriated scream. “You made my life hell over a fucking bottle of wine?!”

“My favorite bottle,” Dio corrects with a sniff.

Don’t punch him, don’t punch him, don’t punch him. You force yourself to take several deep breaths, clenching and unclenching your hands until red-hot fury is no longer sizzling beneath your skin.

Movement out of the corner of your eye has you turning to see the black-eyed man holding out the cube for you to take. “Here. It’s time for you to keep moving.”

Hesitantly, you grab it and for a long moment you say nothing, staring at the symbols as nervous tension fills your stomach. “Do you really believe I can solve it?”

“I do,” Dio says with genuine honesty. “Trust yourself, Specs, and trust the cube. The finish line is in sight, and I’ll be waiting for you there.”

It’s impossible for you to wrap your head around the emotions Dio’s words conjure in your chest, pressing up against your lungs and making it hard to breathe, so you don’t try to. Instead, you push them deep down amongst the memories you keep preciously buried and wrap your fingers around the cube.

This time when you pull, the side rotates seamlessly.

And another universe awaits you.

#dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio x you #dio x reader #shane dio morrissey #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #my fic #the infinity cube #my writing #pedrostories

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cowboy-turtle · 2 years

Text

I Am A Fucking God

Part of CT's Halloween Spooktacular

Summary: You and Dio are amateur occultists when Dio wants to try out a new ritual on you. The results vary from his expectations.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Shane "Dio" Morrissey x f!Reader

Words: 3.3k

Tags: Smut: rough, hate sex, face-sitting, choking, slapping, degradation; horror: supernatural elements, violence, character death; brief mentions of animal cruelty (nothing descriptive)

A/N: If you ever watched Jennifer's Body and saw the emo boy and immediately went "mmm, Dio", then this one's for you. If you ever looked at Dio and thought "I can fix him"...lol...

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When you had told Dio meeting him had changed your life, you hadn’t expected to mean it like this.

It all started on your way home, autumn leaves crunching beneath your feet in the sleepy small town you couldn’t wait to escape. Your mother had set a strict curfew, rumors of Satanic rituals circulating the hair salon rumor mill, housecats gone missing only to show up mutilated on the edge of town.

You’re rounding the corner onto your street lined with blazing red and yellow maple trees, jack o’lanterns beginning to pop up on the white-brick porches.

“Here, kitty kitty,” a voice above you purrs until a streak of black drops down in front of you, your boyfriend hopping off the tree branch he’d been perched on waiting for you. He laughs when you jump and you shoulder past him, hugging your books closer to your chest. You want to get home in time, needing to hide the questionable titles you checked out from the library before your mother can find them.

“What?” Dio asks when he catches up to you, black trench coat fluttering behind him in the cool breeze. “Are you scared?”

“No,” you answer. “I told you you can’t come around here anymore. You know what my parents think of you.”

He scoffs, waving a hand to bat the thought away. “Fuck parents, what do they know?”

He speeds up to turn towards you, walking backwards as you near your address.

“What are you up to tonight, kitty cat?” he drops his voice then. “Want to go...catch some mice?”

“I can’t…” you begin and he pouts. You turn towards your front door but he steps in your path, leveling the gaze of his dark eyes that draw you towards him instead.

“Don’t be such a poser. Jennifer would have gone out tonight.”

Ah, yes, Jennifer. Dio’s most recent ex and the biggest thorn in your side. Any time you were compared to her you always came up short.

“About her,” you sigh, brows drawing together in concern. “She seems different lately, doesn’t she?”

He shrugs. “Probably just thinks she’s hot shit after surviving that accident. Whatever.” He brushes off any thoughts of her with a cock of his hip, his weight on one foot as he tilts your chin up to him.

“C’mon, babe, come out with me tonight. There’s a new place I wanna show you.” His hand traces down your throat, toying at the edge of your turtleneck. “I’ve never taken anyone there before.”

You hold his hand and draw it away from your sweater, chewing on your bottom lip. A place he’s never taken anyone, not even Jennifer? You’d finally have something over her, something that was just between you and Dio that you could call yours.

“Fine,” you give in, “but I need to be back before sunrise this time, okay?”

“You won’t need to worry about that,” he holds his hands up in mock innocence, smirking. “I’ll pick you up at midnight. Oh, and,” he presses down on the books you’re holding, revealing the titles to him, “remember to bring these.”

You nod, watching as he winks and backs away, turning to walk down your street and disappear past the Halloween decorations on your neighbor’s lawn.

The books stay hidden in a satchel underneath your bed until you drag it out, the sound of a pinging pebble hitting your windowpane signifying the hour of escape. You shimmy the old frame up, ducking down to smile at Dio who lounges against the oak tree next to your house, the remnants of a shoddily-rolled cigarette between his black painted fingernails.

“Hurry up,” he calls out, “I’ll catch you.”

You laugh, tossing the bookbag to him and climbing down the tree, his hands grabbing onto you to haul you the rest of the way once you’re within reach. He keeps an arm wrapped around your shoulders, guiding you away from the picket fenced backyards and into the woods.

You begin to think you should have started to feel uneasy much sooner, the thick of the trees growing around you until it slowly cuts out the safety of suburban house lights. You’re about to ask him if you can turn back, worried of him teasing you about chickening out, when the path suddenly opens up into a clearing.

“Sick, isn’t it?” He says, tugging your hand to step onto the cracked cobbled footpath. It leads up to a decrepit abandoned warehouse, half of its walls fallen and crumbling with hanging vines as the forest slowly overtook it. You hear the faint trickle of water somewhere inside as he helps you over the remains of its exterior brick layer, deteriorating floorboards creaking underneath hesitant footsteps as you venture inside.

“How did you find this place?” you whisper, as if anything louder will wake up whatever may lurk within these walls.

“Me and the boys found it last week when we were getting rid of the Thompsons’ cat,” he says, “that little fuck was so loud. Scratched the shit out of me, too.”

He pulls his sleeve up then to show the nasty jagged lines, their angry redness having faded with time.

“Don’t they look cool, babe?”

You nod, already distracted by the molded floor sinking beneath your feet.

“Let’s go up to the second floor,” he instructs, leading you towards the slanting staircase.

“Wait, don’t you think—“

“Just trust me,” he whines, turning to look at you. “Or do you want to head back now?”

You square your shoulders and pull on his hand to continue. He leads you down a graffiti-covered hall to the last room on the east side and stops you at the doorway, smiling.

A blanket is strewn across the middle of the floor, black unlit candles arranged in a circle around it with a scatter of red rose petals. Dio had never done something like this before and this was, well, romantic, especially for his standards.

He guides you to kneel down on the blanket as he flicks on his white Zippo lighter, quickly lighting the candles and surrounding you in their soft glow, their flicker casting long shadows along the walls. You reach into your satchel, pulling out a book to start flipping through it.

“Okay, which one should we start with first?”

He eases the book out of your hands, eyeing you with a hunger that makes your thighs clench. “There’s a new ritual I want to try,” he says as his hands slide around your hips, hoisting you onto his lap. “But first, I need you.”

You shudder as you feel him harden against you, involuntarily grinding until he groans. He reaches up, toying with the neck of your sweater once more.

“You didn’t let me see earlier. Are you still wearing it?”

You nod, hands pulling the hem of your sweater up and over your head to reveal your lace bra and the black velvet choker around your throat, a silver pentagram dangling off of it. He toys with the trinket, eyes assessing it before they dart back up to yours.

“Good girl.”

He grips the back of your neck, pulling you towards his mouth to swallow your gasp, tongue working your lips open. Your fingers slide against the back of the chains around his neck and into his hair, tugging him closer when he growls and bites your bottom lip roughly. The slow roll of your hips resume and he slides his hand down your body, squeezing your ass to guide your movement.

The floorboards creak down the hall and you pull away, suddenly on high alert.

“What was that?”

Dio hooks his hands under your knees instead, throwing you backwards across the blanket. A dull pang resounds through your skull at hitting the wood floor, but you can’t help the way your body responds to his manhandling, already growing wet in anticipation. He crouches down, dragging his nose along your thighs and up underneath your short plaid skirt, pushing your legs open to accommodate. He presses his face to your clothed cunt, unashamed in the deep inhale you can feel against your quickly soaking panties.

“If you’re scared, baby, then why can I fucking smell how turned on you are?”

You moan at his words as he crawls up your body, grinding down onto you as the rough bulge in his dark jeans presses against where you need him most.

“You want it bad, don’t you?” he groans, nipping along your ear to your neck, hard enough you know you’ll need to apply concealer to your throat later.

You arch into him as his hand finds its way under your bra cup, squeezing your breast firm enough to make you keen.

“I normally make boys take me out to dinner first,” you try to say rather breathlessly, “but there’s always an exception to the rule.”

He smirks, and soon your bra is unclipped and discarded, his clothes joining them before he lines himself up, dragging his cock against your pussy until you roll your hips up, whining with need.

He enters you in one long thrust, the sudden pressure of being filled knocking the air out of your lungs. He moans, mouth dropping open as he starts a brutal pace, thighs slapping down onto yours ruthlessly enough to make you grip his arms. His chains still around his neck swing in front of your face with each thrust, brushing against your cheek until you grab hold of them, pulling Dio down into a kiss. He groans, thighs tensing and you can also feel the familiar heat rise in your belly. He ducks his face down to your neck, lips murmuring against your skin as you claw against his back.

“Dio,” you whine, your imminent release speeding your heart rate up enough to not hear what he's saying, his hand reaching towards his clothes.

There are many things you don’t notice in time. The Latin incantations he was whispering into your skin increasing in volume. The glint of the Bowie knife he unsheathed from behind his jacket. You cry out when he heaves off you, but you open your eyes in time to see him rear his arms back over his head, the knife plunging down into your heart before you can scream.

The last thing you remember is how wet everything became, your shaky hands rising up into your blurring vision dripping in blood. Dio’s face is covered in the spatter, his wicked grin gleaming with it. He twists the knife in your chest cavity, and you’re vaguely aware the gurgling sound is your scream, unable to breathe over the liquid filling your throat.

“I’ll see you in hell, kitty cat,” he beams, his cock still buried inside you as you fight to keep your eyes open.

And then everything goes dark.

Hell isn’t what you expected it to be. But you guess the worst hell was having a shitty boyfriend willing to kill you for some bogus sacrifice.

Maybe that’s why when your brain reboots, it’s on the cold, dark floor where he left you, the candles surrounding you long burned out. Only the harvest moon filtering through the boarded windows provides you with enough light as you stumble out, your body unscathed except for the dried blood caked down your front. Red rivulets stream into your shower drain when you eventually make it into your bathroom, and when you wipe across the steam of the mirror you’re almost taken aback. The person staring back is you, but it isn’t at the same time. She looks...powerful. Enticing. Hungry.

So hungry that when you eat the entire rest of the casserole dish of dinner leftovers straight from the pan, sitting on your kitchen floor in the glow of the open refrigerator, it does nothing at all to satisfy your craving. It’s like you’re starved for something else entirely different, like you’re hungry for…

“Hello, Dio,” you muse, hidden behind the tree you’re leaning against when he walks past on his way home the next day. He jumps, whipping around to glare when he does a double take. He stares at you dumbfounded, the first time you’ve ever heard this boy absolutely silent as you laugh at his reaction.

“What is it?” you ask teasingly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Holy shit,” he finally whispers, “but you...but I…h-how the fuck are you here right now?”

You shrug, pushing off the tree to start walking. He follows blindly behind you like a lost puppy and you smirk. It’s almost too easy.

“I don’t know,” you answer simply, “I just woke up where you left me,” you send a glare at his direction but he’s still too awestruck to register it, “and now I’m here.” You turn to him then, mimicking his backward footsteps that had led you to your demise. “Why’d you do it, anyway?”

That seems to break him out of his spell, a sly smile creeping along his face. “It’s something I read about, I’m not sure you’ll understand,” he shrugs. “If you sacrifice your lover in the throes of passion, you become the object of desire to anyone you wish.” He stretches his arms out, proudly presenting himself to you. “I’m gonna be god’s gift to women, baby. They’ll do whatever I want them to now.”

You roll your eyes, turning away when he slings an arm around your shoulders. “But what does that make you?”

You brush his arm off, sending him a warning scowl when he tries again. “I’m the queen of the underworld now.”

His eyebrows dart up in disbelief. “Wait, that’s so fucking hot. I’m dating the queen of the underworld.”

Your hand shoots out to grip his neck, the muscles tensing under your fingers as he stares down at you.

“You would be so lucky to still call me that,” you seethe.

“Then why are you still wearing this?” He reaches towards the choker still around your throat but you step back, glaring at him. He only crowds into your space more, smirking.

“If you think about it, I’m the reason you became queen of the underworld.” He drops his voice, his tone patronizing. “Really, babe, you should be thanking me.”

You scoff. “Over my dead body.”

He shrugs, smug. “I mean, that’s what it took to get here.”

He rushes to catch up to you when you walk away. “So does that make me king of the underworld?”

“You have to earn that title.”

“How do I do that?”

When you look over at him, you see he’s actually being serious, eager eyes waiting for your answer. The wheels start churning in your head.

“Meet me back at the warehouse tonight and I’ll show you.”

After the grandfather clock in your hallway chimes the midnight hour, you’re back in the forest following the same path as before. The inky blackness of the dark trees threatens to swallow you up, overcast clouds blocking out any light from the dark sky. If you weren’t careful, a night like this could eat you alive.

Oh wait, it already did.

No thanks to the goth boy wonder sauntering up to you, eyes dark with want as he helps you over the barricade into the abandoned building. The candles are still arranged in a now empty circle (too much blood to save the blanket, Dio sighs), the floorboards stained dark where you’d last been. He quickly shrugs off his coat, laying it across the floor and sitting down on it, extending a hand towards you to join him. Before he can reach for his lighter you snap your fingers, the black candles lighting themselves with dark violet flames. He raises his eyebrows, impressed.

He flips you down, nipping up your neck to your bottom lip until you angrily bite back. He chuckles darkly. “What else can you do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

He kisses you, murmuring against your lips, “If I’m the king of the underworld, baby, I want to see what my queen can do for me.”

That sets something off inside you, inhuman strength suddenly slamming his back onto the floor as he coughs out a pained breath.

You swing your knees on either side of his sharp jaw and straddle his face, fingers weaving into the jetblack strands of his hair. His sudden realization at your lack of underwear under your skirt makes him moan for air straight to your exposed pussy, hands pulling at the flesh of your ass.

“Want your title?” you preen. “Then make me cum for it, pretty boy.”

He growls, eyes flickering with the challenge as he opens his mouth, tongue working into you as you buck up against his face. He runs his tongue sloppily against you, licking and sucking and biting just enough to have you let out quick, small gasps. His prominent nose rubs against your clit as you grind down onto his face, chasing your pleasure with each roll of your hips. You catch him watching you smugly and have the urge to slap him if his face wasn’t being smothered by your cunt.

This absolute fuckboy, you want your anger to wash over you but you can’t help how your body reacts to him, his fingers digging into your soft thighs as he pulls you harder against his mouth. You tug and pull against his hair until he grunts, teeth grazing your clit and sending a shockwave of pained pleasure that pushes you over, clamping down onto him with a shuddering cry until you almost suffocate him. He claws at your stomach and you lurch off him, reaching backwards to slide his belt undone while he gasps for air. He chokes out your name that gets cut off with a groan when you sink down onto him, planting your hands firmly onto his chest to start rocking back and forth.

“What?” you taunt. “Can’t keep up?”

He juts his chin down to look at you, mouth still glistening from your orgasm as he sneers. The metal studs on his belt dig into the insides of your thighs as you bounce on top of him, his boots planting onto the ground for leverage as he fucks up into you harder, gritting his teeth in concentration.

He wraps his hand hard around your throat, using it as leverage to set the brutal pace of his cock pounding into you. Your hand raises at the thought of him believing he has control, slapping across his cheek hard enough to draw blood when the sharp of your fingernail splits his bottom lip. He growls when you seize his hand at your neck, slamming it above his head as you lean down, licking up his neck to his lip and sucking on the freshly open wound.

It gets rough and messy and animalistic after that, sinking teeth into each other, forming bruises and scratches that sing with pleasure even when they prickle with blood. Dio’s eyes widen when he watches your wounds heal over in seconds, but you grab his jaw to pull his attention back up to you. He slaps your ass, leering up at you.

“Yeah, you like taking it like that don’t you, you fucking whore?”

He’s so busy trying to degrade you, he doesn’t notice the way your hand has changed, fingers stretching into claws, bones protruding out against leathery skin. The next time you raise your hand you sink your claws into his chest. Dio lets out a yell mixed with surprise and pain, violent blooms of blood trickling down his chest as he writhes underneath you. Your curling smile splits up your cheeks as your eyes turn pitch black.

“Didn’t I say you had to take me out to dinner first?” your deep, unnatural voice edges into your tone, twisting your words into a guttural and heavy snarl. “Did I forget to tell you you're dessert?"

Your jaw unhinges as your teeth start to sharpen and split, tendons cracking to accommodate your warping face. The smell of his fear is absolutely delicious, an all you can eat buffet laid out so prettily for you, begging for his life.

You know, you're suddenly glad the abandoned warehouse Dio had found was in the middle of nowhere. No one was able to hear his screams.

Taglist: @1800-fight-me @microsoftcraint @thisgirl-knm @arahxdjarin @triggerhappyflygirl @phandoz @queen0fchaos @sunnshineeexoxo @mrsudontknowme @rosethornxs @wyofabdoms @mandosmistress @kissasith @cmc1014 @morenhoe @anaaaispunk

#dio morrissey #shane dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x you #nypd blue #jennifer's body #jennifer's body au #ct's halloween spooktacular

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