#3313

[sleepsucks]

[manoelt-finisterrae]

...derrotando...

© Manoel T, 2022

[honjitsuno1mai]

#3313

[thingsreadinthedark]

Reading a 33 1/3 issue about the band the raincoats and ain’t this the truth! ^

[vanillastopbath]

3313 Streamwood, IL 01/26/2023

[yoku-yukihime]

i drew motos because i think hes a cute little guy

[rainknow]

[buahcupacupa]

SEGAR, WA 0821-3313-5066 SEGAR Pohon Cupa Cupa Banjarnegara

SEGAR, WA 0821-3313-5066 SEGAR Pohon Cupa Cupa Banjarnegara

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Like a deer in headlight ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : After finding out that Alastor indeed had ears atop his head, it was now time for round two of your game - his deer tail.

Pairing : Alastor x Reader

Word count : 3313 Words

Genre : Fluff, Suggestive(?)

Warnings ➵ Possessive and out of character Alastor,

he accidentally hurts and scares Reader

a/n : Continuation of my Alastor x Reader story, > Deer in headlight < , got asked for this by a few people, so here ya'll go! Hope it's as good as the first one!♡

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

It had been a week since you had discovered Alastor's ears and he had let you touch them for the first time. Sneaking on him a few times to caress or play with them, maybe even a little tug or kiss to them when none of the others were looking. The relationship between you two also changed to something different, you couldn't exactly put a name to it, but it was more than friends, but definitely less than lovers. It confused you. Alastor confused you. Once he is nice to you, cooks you dinner, and lets you play with his ears while he writes a new script, the next time he rather distances himself from you, makes jokes here and there as if he himself didn't know what to do nor how to act.

The others also had picked up on the change between you two, Angel was teasing you about it a lot, Husker just warned you to be careful, Niffty was herself like always and Charlie was super happy about how close you two seemed to have gotten now.

So now to your new mission at hand, round two of your self-proclaimed game. Figure out if Alastor has a tail and if yes, get around to touch it! But this time it seemed to be harder than before, Alastor had his guard up a lot around you now, even when he let you play with his ears. Every time your hand wanders away from his ears down to try and peak under his coat, his hand either guides yours back up to his head or he entirely gets up and leaves, making sure you cannot find out if he has a fluffy little tail.

So now you were sitting at the bar, head resting on the counter as Husker slid your favorite drink over to you. "No look yet huh sweets? Was surprised you even got around to touching his ears without injuries." Angel now sat down beside you, softly patting your back as you let out a tired groan. "I just don't get it! I mean he saw that in the it wasn't that bad when I touched his ears! So why is it so bad now if I figure out if he has a tail too!" Pouting, you sit up a bit now taking a sip from your glass. "Maybe he doesn't have one, none of us ever saw one at least. Or maybe if he has one it's a different feeling for him than his ears?" Husker was cleaning a glass now as he spoke to you. Maybe he was right but.. you really wanted to know if he had a cute matching tail. Eyes going around the foyer now as you notice Alastor making his way up the stairs.

"Al! Wait up!" Jumping down from the barstool to follow him up the stairs, he waited for you on the stairs before walking up beside you. Eyes glancing over to him, he looked calm as always, his signature smile adorning his face, staff clutched in one hand as he walked alongside you. "How can I help you today dear?" Looking over at him now, you simply followed him to where he was going. "Are you doing a broadcast today? May I listen again?" Raising an eyebrow slightly Alastor looks over to you, nodding in agreement as he leads you to his radio tower. Over the last week, you had listened to his broadcast live two times already, which made you happy that he allowed you to join him. Opening the door for you, you enter first as you immediately take a seat at the table, Alastor had put up a second chair for you. Still, you noticed how his eyes had a glimmer of suspicion at how you suddenly wanted to listen in today.

Waiting for him to start the broadcast, your head was leaning on your hand as you watched Alastor with a smile. Suddenly an idea came into your head, trying to suppress the grin that was threatening to grow on your face. Alastor was focused on his broadcast, talking about something you weren't even listening to anymore. Reaching your hand over now, your fingertips softly graze his ears, as Alastor lets out a surprised yet quiet yelp, before turning his head to you with a warning glare. Returning his gaze with a smirk now, as you stand up from your seat and slowly walk over to him, he was glaring at you now. You were so close to fucking up, but this was a chance. Reaching your hand out to the back of his coat to pull it up. Quickly the > On Air < sign switched up, as Alastor grabbed your wrist in a rather right grip. Turning his head to you now, his antlers had grown in size, a red X on his forehead, and eyes turned to dials. You definitely fucked up now.

"D̷̢͙̟̼̘̊̒̑͑͝ë̸͇͍͓̲͇͂̾̓͝a̴͙̻̞̫̞̾̑̈́͑̕r̸̖͎̼̳͍̀̉̌̉̒ ̶̜͉̦͔̒̋̌̒̕ͅw̵̛̲̭̰̼͒̑̎͝ͅh̴͚̮̬̜̔̉͗̀̅ͅa̴̭͖͍̩̣͐̀̇͂̿ţ̷̛̪̣̥͓̓̆̕͠ ̴̢͓͓͙̯̂̀͋̀͘w̵̘̣̫͚͛̋͛̊͠ͅë̴̢̡̛̥̦͇́̄̉̈ř̶͓̜̗̻̓̊̐͘ͅẽ̷̮̻͈͕͎̓̌͐̈ ̵̠̝̫̺̲̑́̍̈́̈́ÿ̴̳̩͍͎̙́̌́̿̈́o̶̰̭͎͈̣̅͛͑̌͘u̶̢̝̥̞̪͋́̒̎͝r̶ ̵͕͉̫̻̤̎̐̋̾͘į̴͕͈̮̅̎̈́̀̌ͅn̸̠̳̮̤̻͆͛̔̎͋t̸̖̻̲̘̭̐̎̂̏̕e̵̞͎͎̭̗̓̍̓̉̈́n̶̬͈͎̤͉̈́̈́̈́̇̾ţ̶̱͓̥̲̅̔͋̀̚i̶̡̲͕̤̩̒̏͐̈́͝ǒ̷̗̰̯̩̻́̔̄́n̸̡̧̞̩̥̔͆̎͆̅s̵̪̣̱͔̎͒́̽͠ͅ ̷̝͍͈̥͌͂̿̏͘ͅr̶̹͚̦͉̞̈́̈́͂̋̀i̶̡̨̛͉͇͇̾͐͊̍g̸̨̛͉͎̰̖͋̒͒̓h̴̜̫͕̪͊͊̈́͝͠ͅt̷͉̳̩̰̜͗̈́̓̽̒ ̴̨̬̱̰̠̒͂̍́̏n̸̬͍̬̣̗̿̃̅́͑ǫ̸̠̰̈̊͌͗̚͜͜w̴̧̜̺̖̓́̎͗͆ͅ?̴̠̖̯̤͚̓̀̎̂͆"

Gulping once, you try to pull your arm back from his grip, which just makes him tighten it. Hissing lowly, you squeeze your eyes shut, it was slowly stinging a bit from how tight his grip was. "Al.. You're hurting me!" Alastor finally turned back to himself, letting go of your red wrist now, a print of his fingers visible as you cradled your hand against your chest. "I'm going to leave for now.." Head down as you hurriedly leave the room, closing the door behind you as you dart for your room, ignoring Angel's calls who just walked past you. Throwing yourself on your bed now, you looked at your wrist scared now. He had never used his demon form for you, there was no way of denying that he had scared you. Closing your eyes to push away the tears that were slowly building up in your eyes, as your consciousness drifts away.

"Dear, wake up." A hand on your shoulder was softly shaking you awake, lifting your head to take in your surroundings before meeting Alastor's eyes. Sitting up quickly, you scoot a bit away from him as you watch him with wide eyes. "Alastor..! What are you doing in my room?" Watching him now, as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed, making sure to not make you any more uncomfortable by getting too close to you. "I'm sorry about back there, I lost it a bit, I shouldn't have." Despite smiling, you noticed that Alastor was genuinely apologizing to you. "I'm sorry, I crossed a line there, I used your trust in me listening to your broadcast live, I'm truly sorry." Laying your hand near his own carefully, letting him decide if he wants to be touched right now. Looking down, he softly takes your hand, as he presses a kiss against the red fingerprints he had left behind. His eyes were closed right now as his lips linger a second longer than they usually do. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." Raising to his feet now, he gave you a soft smile, before leaving you stunned in your room.

Laying back down against your pillows, your gaze was on the ceiling as your cheeks became a soft shade of red. What was he thinking? Turning onto your side now as you hug your pillow against your chest, looking to where Alastor sat just a few minutes prior.

The next day arrives, as you make your way down the stairs to the others. Charlie was right now explaining something to Angel and Husker, hyper as always. Vaggie was simply sitting on one of the couches with a book right now, while Alastor was nowhere to be seen. "Hey Vaggie, have you seen Alastor?" Leaning over the back of the couch now so the girl could see you as she looks over to you. "He went out rather early today, saying something about Overlords meeting and visiting a friend in Cannibal Town." Raising your eyebrows slightly at that, friend in Cannibal Town? Definitely Rosie. He probably decided to tag along with her a bit after the meeting, as she was also an Overlord. Thanking Vaggie, you go over to the other three to let Vaggie read her book in peace.

"Okay and then when Heaven agrees we could- Oh good morning!" Waving to you immediately now as Charlie noticed you coming over. Greeting them all with a smile and good morning now before Charlie starts to ramble on about her plans. It was nice seeing such a hyper and happy girl in hell, it was definitely a change to how people normally were down here.

"By the way sweets, would you mind tagging along to the city today? I wanted to go visit some clothing stores you would definitely like!" Angel laid his hand on your shoulder now as he asked you, before even thinking you agreed. It had been a while since you had last been to the part of Pentagram City where all the clothing stores were located. Besides Alastor isn't here today to try any of your attempts to see his tail nor to play with his ears. After quickly getting changed, Angel led you to the stores he was talking about. And he sure was right, you found so many good clothes to your liking in many different styles. One thing hell didn't lack was good fashion, probably thanks to Velvette from the Vees.

Leaving the store now with a lot of bags in hand, Angel decided to pull you to his favorite > cheap yet delicious < restaurant as he called it. While looking around a bit, you couldn't help but notice a certain red-haired demon walking down the streets, alongside Rosie, as their arms were hooked together, laughing. You knew they were simply good old friends, yet you couldn't do anything about this weird feeling bubbling up in your stomach. Reaching your hand out, you softly tug on Angel's shirt, head hung low. "What's it, sweets? Ya suddenly don't seem so good." His hand softly raised your chin now to look at you, noticing your pained expression. "Are ya hurt?" Taking a good look at you to make sure you weren't visibly hurt anywhere. Raising your head again, your eyes on the two other demons, Angel's eyes follow yours before letting out a sight.

"I know they're only friends but.. I feel weird seeing them I don't even know why myself!" The bag you were holding dropped to the ground, before hiding your face in your hands. "Sweets, if you ask me that sounds as if ya're jealous.." Angel's hand softly patting your head now as you raise your head, eyes meeting his. "But.. That would mean.. And he would never reciprocate.." Tears were building up in your eyes, before you knew it Angel pulled you into a comforting hug, softly patting your head. "It's going to be okay sweets." Staying there for a good minute or two, before you calmed down again. What you didn't see was a certain dial eyes watching you, as Angel had his arms around you and your body against his chest.

Deciding to head back to the hotel for now, Angel said he would take you to the restaurant another time. Back at the hotel you for now decided to head back to your room for a little rest. The shopping bag is thrown onto a chair before flopping down on your bed. A sigh leaves your lips. The last few days really weren't the best for you and were slowly wearing you down.

"Say dear, I thought we had a deal of you not touching others~" A radio static voice suddenly sounded through your room, sitting up you looked around frantically, eyes stopping on a dark corner of your room. Red eyes watching you, a shadow figure beside them grinning at you. Before you could know it, your body was pressed to the bed with Alastor on top of you. "W-What do you mean!? Angel was simply comforting me! Besides you were also all over Rosie!" Thrashing around now, as you try to push Alastor off of you, but he was simply too strong for you. "Oh, so you're jealous sweetheart? Was that payback then?" Alastor head was lowered as he whispered those words into your ear making your eyes grow wide. "He was comforting me because I was crying! Which I by the way was because of you!" Staring into your eyes now, Alastor was at a loss for words. You were crying? Because of him on top of that? Before he knew it, he watched your eyes fill with tears again daring to flow over. Now he had fucked up this time.. Again.

"D-Don't cry! Dearest I'm sorry." Scooting off of you now, he sits beside you not really knowing what to do, he never had to deal with someone besides Niffty crying. And Charlie, but that was a different story. Your hands rubbing over your eyes now, trying to get rid of the tears. Before you knew it, the culprit of your tears grabbed your hand, leading it to his head. Alastor wasn't great with words to comfort you, but this was his way of trying to comfort you after screwing up, which you deeply appreciated. Looking up at him now, eyes red from crying, as your hand starts to softly rub over his ears. "I meet up with Rosie to ask her for advice on what to get you as an apology for last time." Pulling out a little box from his coat now, he hands it to you. Sitting up, you take the red box from his hands, opening it slowly. Inside was a gold necklace with a red pendant in a tear shape. "It's beautiful.." You were at a loss for words right now, you didn't think he would get you something like this as an apology. "Let me put it on you dearest, turn around." Moving yourself now that your back is to him, you softly move any hair out of the way so he can put the necklace around your neck. Hand reaching down as you take the pendant between your fingers. "Thank-" Your words were interrupted by a soft kiss being pressed to your neck, but as you turned around, Alastor was gone, and only caught a glimpse of his shadow disappearing. Hand reaching to the place you had felt him kiss. Did you only imagine that? No, he definitely kissed your neck.

The next day you wanted to ask Alastor about it, but he was nowhere to be seen, as if he was avoiding you, which made you a little bit sad. Did he regret it?

Till now you also were not able to accomplish your victory in this little game. Making yourself question if you were ever going to figure out if he had a little deer tail. Turning around now, you caught a glimpse of red hair disappearing, making you dart right after him. So he truly was avoiding you! Before he could close his door, you put your foot between the door and the doorframe. "Open the door, I won't go away!" It took almost a whole minute for him to open the door, entering the room, the door is closed behind you. Crossing your arms in front of your chest now, you turn around to face Alastor now. "Are you avoiding me?" Static radio error. "Of course not dear! Why should I?" He was obviously more than nervous to be talking to you right now. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because since yesterday you've been running away from me and not shown your face once?" Looking at him skeptically now, he tried to look composed as always with his smile, but you noticed how his smile was slightly strained and his hand clenched just a bit tighter around his staff. "If this is about the kiss and you regret it just say it please, I won't be mad at you." Your eyes were avoiding his now. Oh if only you knew it was the complete opposite.

"Listen dear, it's not that.. It's.. How do I say, rather the opposite? I have been feeling rather drawn to you, wanting to get closer but.. I don't quite know how to handle these emotions." For once Alastor looked nervous, something you had never truly seen on him, he seemed so unsure. Holding out your hand, waiting for him to perhaps take it, which he did. Eyes locked on your hands, as he was softly playing with your fingers, slowly linking them together. "Listen it's okay, take as much time as you need to figure this out okay?" A soft smile was on your lips now, trying to reassure and calm him, but it had quite the opposite effect on him.

"May I kiss you?" Blurting those words out without even thinking about it, both of you were staring at each other with blown eyes now. You question yourself if you heard correctly and Alastor questions his sanity by asking you this, was he completely going crazy now? "If you want to, I allow you to do anything you want, I trust you." Now this surprised him, he indeed wanted to try this but.. he had never kissed anyone before. Not while alive, and certainly not while dead. Slowly his hand lays on your cheek as he pulls you closer to him, angling your head so you are looking at him. Your hands softly grab onto the front of his coat, eyes closed to give him full control. Alastor could either take his time or pull away entirely, it was all up to him, you let him go at his own pace.

And before he knew it, he was leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. It felt different than he had imagined, it felt warm and comforting. It was a simple soft peck, nothing too spectacular, but for both of you, it was something special. When he pulled away again and you looked up into his eyes, you noticed movement behind him, your eyes lowering and noticing something moving under the backside of his coat. Eyes glancing with interest now, Alastor's eyes following yours to what you were looking at, a sigh leaving his lips. Before you knew it, Alastor was shrugging his coat off, his shadow hanging it somewhere in the room. And there it was, a fluffy deer tail, that was right now softly swishing from side to side, it was adorable. Alastor was a sight right now. His ears were pointed towards you, a blush over the bridge of his nose while his tail swished from side to side.

Reaching out your hand to touch his tail with sparking eyes, his hand stops yours as he watches you. "Once. It's different than my ears, one pat and that's it darling." Nodding in agreement, he turns around a bit as your hand softly pats over his tail once. It was soft just like his ears. Looking up with a smile now, his head was turned to the front, but his ears were turned to your direction, which looked super adorable. "Well since I was only allowed to pet your tail once, I would like to pat your ears again!" Smiling up at him innocently now, he exactly knew how this would end.

And he was correct, he was now lying on his bed with you, his head on your stomach as you were contentedly playing with his ears. Even though it would probably take a while till both of you knew how to call this relationship, you were more than happy that your one hand was busy patting his ears, and the other one was softly held by the red-haired man. You could get used to this.

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

Taglist :

@mysticwitchcraftco @biromanticboba @yellowelectroslime

[skrubu]

February image surplus selection from the phone #miscellaneous #stuff #thisnthat #finland https://instagr.am/p/CpYSZpZIVO9/

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Look! Up in the Sky!

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x Reader

Description: It's hard, making a name for yourself as an investigative journalist in a city as big as Metropolis. It seems like everyone and everything is against you, just because you weren't born and raised in Metropolis. But you're determined to make it. When a run-of-the-mill article turns into a hostage situation with armed criminals, you're not sure you'll be making it out of this situation alive. Can a run-in with Metropolis' own Superman light the flames of your passion once more? Or are you destined to pack up and go back home?

Disclaimers: DC canon-typical violence. Armed gunmen. Some language.

Warnings: Like most of my fics, this fic features a Female!Reader

Word Count: 3313

Author Note: Hiya lovelies! I've been thinking about this fic for a long time. I started writing it sometime early this year and never actually got very far. Several rewrites later and here we are!

First and foremost, I want to dedicate this story to the beautiful @sarahsmi13s, since it is her birthday! Vinny! Happiest of birthdays to you! I hope the upcoming year is bright and filled with as much joy as you've brought to me!

Second, I feel like I am permanently obligated to thank @horseshoegirl for being the Comma Queen she is and making sure my ramblings are well-written and actually make sense. This fic wouldn't be possible without you, Lucky!

This is going to be a multi-part story. Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

"I'm sorry, he what?!"

The mumbling on the other end of the phone makes you even angrier and more frustrated than ever. The frustration isn't new to you, not at all. It's part and parcel of being one of The Daily Planet's investigative journalists. The other thing the Planet appreciates in its journalists is people who have a nose for stories. You think you have one. Which is why everything is telling you that Peabody is prevaricating because he's trying to hide something.

"I understand your position, Mr. Peabody, but your contact is my biggest informant. If we don't have his testimonial, we'll never be able to publish this article on LexCorp."

There's more irate, increasingly loud yelling spilling down the speaker, but you could care less. You've been working on this article for months, carefully building layer upon layer of evidence, crafting the perfect hard-hitting expose. You're not taking his bullshit at face value anymore. Your mind is whirling as you lean back in your chair. Peabody is still spilling excuses into your ear, not that you care. Maybe you’re a little rough and brusque with Peabody as you hang up, but something about this situation is pinging in your head.

Your office is a bright space, all white walls, glass panes and metallic accents. From up on the 68th floor, Metropolis looks like a heaving anthill. Across the cityscape, another skyscraper glints tauntingly at you. You know Luthor is wrapped up in this. Okay, sure, corporate espionage isn’t exactly his deal, but who else could it be? You’ve carefully counted out every other potential culprit. Only Luthor is left.  Turning around, there’s an unholy rage in your countenance as you glare down at the twisted mess taking over your walls. There are newspaper clippings, articles, string and scribbled notes all over the walls. Just looking at it is sometimes enough to give you a headache. But you desperately need to get to the bottom of this situation. There must be a reason why all roads seemingly lead to Lex Luthor’s shining obelisk to his ego. You wouldn't be surprised if Peabody is clamming up because someone is blackmailing him.

Before you can further dig into the LexCorp situation, a whistle rings out through the air. You're the newest investigative journalist at the Daily Planet. It means you have the smallest office with half-broken heating and air conditioning, which nobody else wanted. It’s also the office furthest away from the bullpen.

The editor-in-chief of the Planet, a gruff, peppery older man named Perry White, only calls all of you together if there is something big brewing in Metropolis. You have to shove your way to the front of the circle loosely gathered around Perry. You're short, so you couldn’t see over the crowd if you tried.

“Alright, alright, settle down you lot.”

Perry's voice is gruff, carrying the tones of a person who grew up in Metropolis or one of its boroughs. Of course, most of the office hails from Metropolis. Sometimes you think your upbringing in the cornfields of Iowa has something to do with your distance from the other journalists on staff. After all, despite living in Metropolis for the past five years, your voice still holds the slightest twang. You can dress like a Metropolis professional, walk like one, and talk like one, but everyone makes it abundantly obvious you will never be a citizen of Metropolis.

The hazing is par for the course. You’ve seen more than your fair share in the three months since you started at The Daily Planet. The source of your struggles is, you’re sure, one person. She’s standing at the other end of the circle of reporters waiting with baited breath as Perry doles out assignments.

Natasha Trace.

She gets all of the best assignments from Perry, just because she’s his niece or something like that. The vindictive smirk she gives you as she accepts the latest city hall press conference is proof. Your own assignment is a little more dangerous, 300 words on the newest homeless shelter opening in Southside. According to the mayor, Southside isn’t dangerous anymore, but you don’t believe him. Perry quotes the same thing every chance he can get, especially because he sends reporters out to Southside pretty often. It’s all part of the Planet’s “For the People” reporting strategy. Every day, you hear people talking about another mugging or shooting or what have you. So you’re under no assumptions that Perry and Natasha are giving you an assignment they want you to succeed in.

You're cursing them more and more the next day when you're kneeling with a puddle of spilled tomato soup seeping into your sensible dark trousers. It was just your luck that masked gunmen waltzed into the shelter in the middle of your interview, wasn’t it?

 It was also just your luck that one of them had sent a spray of bullets into the air the moment hands went up. Cue some well-deserved screaming and a near-stampede for the doors, and you’d been pushed to the floor. So now you’re crouching in spilled soup with your hands up, trying and failing to moderate your breathing.

What the hell does a soup kitchen in Southside have for a gang of armed robbers, anyway? It’s not like it has much money. After all, this is only one of a string of new food shelters opening up in Metropolis. They’ve all been funded by the government, and they’re all supposed to be as clean as can be. Supposed to be, anyway. Obviously something isn’t right in the state of Denmark.

What’s just as interesting is the sight of the photographer you’ve been sent to the shelter with. Mickey Garcia is one of the Planet’s best. He’s got an eye for taking those photographs nobody else can. You’re not sure why Perry sent him with you. Usually he’s buddy-buddy with Natasha. He’s probably wishing he were with Natasha at City Hall right now. You know you are. But he doesn’t look scared or worried. He’s just kneeling in the soup next to you, hands up with his head cocked to the side and eyes staring into the distance.

It’s almost like he expects the police to come roaring up. Just as the lead invader turns his head, there’s a rush of wind and you see an imperceptible smirk on his face before he disappears between one blink and the next. You can smell ozone in the air, bitingly sharp, but it seems like nobody else notices but you.

Who the hell is Mickey Garcia? You almost wish you were hiding behind one of the tables. Because then you can pull out your notebook and start writing. Instead, it seems like all you have is your eyes and ears. How did he disappear so quickly? Metahumans aren’t exactly new in the world (or well, at least in the country). You remember reading about metahuman related events across the country. After all, everyone knows about Gotham City’s Bat. But recently there have been more and more reports. A meta-human in red-and-gold streaking through Central City. Villains with the power to freeze anything in its tracks and heroes with the power of the seven seas and beyond. And of course, everyone has seen the fluttering blue cape of Metropolis’ own metahuman.

So where does that leave you? Wishing for Superman, as you’ve heard him called, to save you? You’re not even sure he’ll show at all. There have to be a million other things happening in Metropolis more important.

“ALL OF YOU ON THE FLOOR!”

You’re not on the floor long when a hand grabs you by your hair and yanks you up.

“What do we have here?” A greasy voice growls the words into your ear as cold metal presses into your temple. “A little reporter eagerly waiting for a scoop?”

You shudder, your skin crawling at the hunger in this man’s voice as he traces his index finger up and down your throat. Your press badge thwaps against your chest with every movement.

“P-please.” You’re trembling in earnest, teeth chattering. “These people are innocent, th-they have no money. They’re here to get some food. The only money the shelter has is for food.”

His cackle chills you to the bone. “Oh, you’re so naive, you sweet little thing.”

“We’re not here for the shelter’s money. We’re here for the city’s money.” He grins, blowing his foul-smelling breath in your face. “And if the city doesn’t cough up the goods, we’ll just take you in exchange.”

“And what if he comes to save us?”

You’re not sure who asks, but it sparks a rising tide of questions. People are shouting the questions out, and the men grow angrier and angrier. From your new vantage point with a barrel pressed to your temple you can see how uneasy they actually are. Their fingers tighten around the weaponry, paling at the joints as they grip at the metal. The more people ask, bolstered by the sounds of the sirens outside and the crackle of voices through bullhorns, the angrier your captor gets.

“All of you, shut up!” It's a roar of sound which leaves your ears ringing. The gun hurts as it presses into your throat. It’s hard to breathe, to swallow, to think. Something tells you you're not getting out of this stand-off alive. Your pulse is thudding in your ears and your chest aches. You hear the tell-tale click and your eyes are screwed closed.

Please. Please. Please. I promise I'll be better. I promise I'll be a better daughter, a better employee.

You're not sure who you're praying to, but you’re praying nonetheless.

There's so much I haven’t done yet.

It shouldn’t be so sad, thinking about how pathetic your life is - how empty it is. You're braced to hear the sound of a gunshot, braced to feel pain and then feel nothing ever again. You can feel the silk of your blouse, the expensive one you never wear, sticking to your back as you heave in thready, unsteady breaths.

It's almost anticlimactic, the way it happens. You smell the same sharp ozone scent you did earlier and the hand wrapped around your throat, the gun pressed to the hinge of your jaw disappears. You keep your eyes screwed shut, trying to ignore the yells of pain and cut-off curses as people get beaten up. You keep expecting to feel the acute pain of a bullet lancing through you, burning through your skin. But you feel nothing. You hear nothing, and obviously all you can see is the underside of your own eyelids.

“Miss, you can open your eyes now. It's all going to be okay.” 

You know what this voice is saying as you stand stiff-backed in the center of the room. Your muscles are locked in place and your hands are curled into fists at your side. You're not sure you could move if you tried to.

The hands that hold yours are warm, warmer than they have any right to be. But they feel good, and you can feel yourself relaxing into the touch. When your eyes open, you're not sure what you expected to see. But what you get is Metropolis's own Superman. He is smiling at you, pearly teeth on display, big brown eyes gentle as he talks you out of your panic. You're enraptured by how his dark hair curls just so over his forehead and how his jaw is so well-defined it could cut diamond.

More than anything, you wish you were still holding your notebook and pen or a dictaphone or anything. If there was anyone you want to interview here and now, it's him. But something is bothering you about him. He looks oddly familiar, something in the turn of his cheek and the fall of his hair.

Your statement to MCPD takes the longest. Long after all the other hostages have headed home or been shuttled to other shelters in the city, you stand, ignoring the way tomato soup is crusting on your clothes and how your fingers ache. Maybe your statement wouldn’t have taken quite so long if you weren’t trying to interview your interviewer back. In any case, by the time your throat is dry and aching, it’s late, approaching midnight and the only person left other than police personnel is Superman.

“A-are you okay, Miss?” 

You blink at his words, because he sounds oddly bashful, and that is a look you never expected to see on a superhero’s face.

“I’m fine.” You grin, the motion only halfway genuine. “I'm just about to head out. I'm sure a superhero like you has better things to do, other people to save and whatnot.”

“U-um, no actually.” He tips his head to the side, using his hand to fix his already immaculate hair.

“Do you always wait around at crime scenes to walk a gal home?”

“W-would it be alright if I walked you home?”

Your questions collide in midair against each other. You huff out an exhausted laugh, but he just blushes a little, golden cheeks flushing as his eyes twinkle at you.

“N-no. I don’t make a habit of waiting at crime scenes to walk girls home. Guess that's something only for you.”

Now it's your turn to battle hot cheeks. You can't even fan your face off because you don't have a thing to fan yourself with. Flapping your hands makes you feel stupid. So instead, you let Superman lead you out of the shelter and onto Metropolis’ streets. The city is alive with the sound of cars and ambulances. Someone has a radio on their window playing music. It feels like you're in an entirely different place.

“So, what about that walk home?”

He smells good. For the first time you notice how good he smells, this Superman, now that your nose isn't clogged with the smells of spilled tomato soup and sandwiches. You want to spend time with him. You want to forget what is waiting for you in the morning, how angry Perry is going to be when you didn't get a scoop on the shelter or any pictures that you know of. Maybe if you spin the Superman angle to this? It doesn't feel right, exploiting this man when he's so clearly doing it to help people. You also don't want to stop talking to him yet.

“Sure.”

Honestly you wish you'd clarified, because when he said walk, you thought he was actually going to walk with you. Instead he sweeps you up in his arms and shoots up into the sky. You scream the whole way, hands scrabbling for purchase against his suit, finally settling for an arm around his shoulder. You're shaken and shivering when he finally stops moving.

“Shit, sorry.” 

You grumble into his broad chest at the cheeky apology. 

“Just thought you'd want to see the city how I see it.”

When you finally screw up the courage to take a look, your lips part in a gasp. The entirety of Metropolis is laid out in front of you. Lit in gold from all of the lights, you're grinning from ear-to-ear as you peer out over the city.

“It's gorgeous!” There's a pleased smirk on his face. “I can't believe you get to see the city like this!”

“Yeah,” He grins, something soft. “I didn't fall in love with the city until the first time I saw this view.”

“I can see why,” You gasp, witnessing how soft your colossal city looks in the moonlight, how it seems like a world filled with such promise.

“Let's get you home.” There's a blush on his cheeks as he swoops you down, following your murmured instructions like he knows every inch of the city.

You feel a little bit like a princess when he sets you lightly down on the doorstep. He's still floating in the air, the navy blue suit he's wearing clinging to every muscle. Now more than ever something feels familiar about him. He stays outside your door watching with the same smirk on his face, his head cocked to the side like he's waiting to hear your deadbolt slide home.

You're a little giddy when he flies away, and you curl into your bed like you're in a dream. You sleep well, for the most part, not half as traumatized as you expected to be after being held hostage at gunpoint. At least, until you jolt up in bed, your hair a mess around you and growl, “Garcia!” 

He'd disappeared when the police came to the shelter with their bullhorns and their posturing. You'd smelled the same sharp ozone-tinged scent in the air when he'd disappeared and when Superman shot into the room. But there is more too. The shape of his face, the way he smiled, the almost compulsive way he pushed his hair off his face. He acts just like Garcia does, too.

What is the likelihood your first encounter with Metropolis' own Superman would give you insight into his alter-ego? After all, nobody would suspect that quiet, bespectacled, sweet Mickey Garcia, a photographer for the Daily Planet, is Superman. Nobody, it's obvious, but you. Forget your conspiracy board on LexCorp and their shady dealings. Right now, an exclusive interview with Superman seems like just the ticket to rocket you into fame.

But you can’t let on that you know. You spend the day typing up a lackluster article on the shelter opening, your eyes peering over your computer every time you hear footsteps coming your way. The people walking past you never stop by, not even to chat. You're practically sprinting for the door when you see Garcia, chunky headphones around his neck.

“Hey, Garcia!” 

He turns and looks oddly surprised to see you. 

“You got a sec?”

“Y-yeah, of course.” 

His stutter is adorable. You have to remind yourself he is Superman. 

“I wanted to take a look at the pictures you shot yesterday. Obviously the opening wasn't what we expected, but it should be an interesting public interest piece anyway.”

When he's sitting in the chair next to yours, fingers flying over your keyboard as he shows you all of the photos he took as well as a few of the aftermath, you're questioning your gut instinct even more. How is it possible he got pictures of the police helping people, interviewing you, if he was Superman? 

It's nice, working with someone who smiles at you instead of spitting insults out behind your back.

“This looks great.”

There's a smile on your face as you look at the finished article. 

“Yeah, not bad for an article about a shelter opening turned into a hostage situation, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

You turn, and rest your arm on his forearm. You let your reporting instinct take the driver’s seat. When he's relaxed, maybe you'll get some answers out of him.

“I completely forgot to ask! How are you holding up after yesterday? You know what Perry always says, ‘We're a family here at the Planet!’. I was terrified when those gunmen burst in.”

You prattle on and on, seeing his face change, almost fall, when you mention Superman. 

“You know, he's awfully handsome, Superman is. He took me home, made sure I was alright.”

You grin, wickedly, though you know for sure nobody here in Metropolis knows you well enough to tell.

“And then he blushed.”

All of your suspicions are proved true when Mikey Garcia blushes the same way Superman did.

“You know something? Superman blushed just like that when he was showing me Metropolis how he sees it.”

There's panic in his eyes now. You're just fast enough to block him at the door, arm flung out to stop him from walking past you.

“So…. How long have you been Superman, Mickey Garcia?”

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @teacupsandtopgun

@roosterforme @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy

@shanimallina87 @a-reader-and-a-writer @dakotakazansky @seitmai

@shinycupcakebaker

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

would you mind listing your favourite 14 numbers for me? i want to compare mine with the favourites of others

In no particular order I really like the following:

0, 3, 5, 6, 9, 18, 23, 36, 39, 48, 67, 78, 90, 120, 139, 148, 168, 193, 234, 264, 279, 324, 339, 382, 423, 484, 516, 540, 585, 620, 645, 690, 729, 772, 829, 954, 1010, 1128, 1227, 1273, 1314, 1345, 1390, 1419, 1453, 1488, 1530, 1562, 1600, 1632, 1655, 1710, 1735, 1750, 1792, 1815, 1840, 1886, 1893, 1916, 1929, 1932, 1955, 1964, 2021, 2121, 2176, 2221, 2236, 2301, 2324, 2279, 2357, 2404, 2440, 2525, 2554, 2579, 2603, 2619, 2636, 2661, 2684, 2707, 2718, 2733, 2749, 2772, 2813, 2833, 2857, 2887, 2920, 2941, 2996, 3002, 3021, 3037, 3081, 3106, 3133, 3158, 3191, 3227, 3252, 3271, 3313, 3338, 3362, 3391, 3414, 3444, 3467, 3528, 3547, 3593, 3623, 3642, 3675, 3700, 3716, 3732, 3774, 3784, 3807, 3819, 3837, 3862, 3882, 3903, 3924, 3938, 3959, 3993, 4014, 4036, 4057, 4082, 4103, 4114, 4142, 4167, 4189, 4211, 4234, 4257, 4290, 4315, 4339, 4392, 4416, 4432, 4454, 4473, 4499, 4508, 4526, 4557, 4580, 4605, 4615, 4643, 4660, 4684, 4730, 4755, 4772, 4806, 4826, 4845, 4867, 4901, 4914, 4928, 4955, 4973, 4987, 5008, 5019, 5032, 5054, 5065, 5088, 5112, 5157, 5182, 5205, 5226, 5238, 5255, 5260, 5282, 5300, 5315, 5336, 5364, 5400, 5427, 5440, 5459, 5475, 5498, 5522, 5530, 5541, 5560, 5580, 5598, 5627, 5640, 5659, 5666, 5671, 5675, 5700, 5714, 5730, 5745, 5756, 5863, 5868, 5875, 5888, 5915, 5938, 5957, 5971, 5997, 6010, 6011, 6034, 6064, 6089, 6116, 6133, 6150, 6163, 6173, 6200, 6218, 6236, 6243, 6250, 6262, 6274, 6284, 6297, 6301, 6310, 6319, 6336, 6348, 6354, 6378, 6397, 6408, 6432, 6450, 6461, 6482, 6496, 6514, 6530, 6540, 6547, 6550, 6565, 6570, 6590, 6597, 6608, 6620, 6632, 6655, 6682, 6704, 6708, 6714, 6726, 6740, 6749, 6754, 6759, 6764, 6785, 6790, 6805, 6810, 6815, 6830, 6841, 6853, 6858, 6867, 6877, 6896, 6912, 6999, 7016, 7023, 7030, 7047, 7062, 7072, 7063, 7076, 7082, 7085, 7100, 7105, 7130, 7150, 7168, 7173, 7184, 7187, 7196, 7202, 7209, 7216, 7224, 7234, 7244, 7254, 7266, 7267, 7273, 7279, 7281, 7281, 7289, 7289, 7299, 7305, 7313, 7317, 7324, 7335, 7336, 7348, 7360, 7368, 7387, 7410, 7430, 7442, 7452, 7479, 7485, 7491, 7505, 7516, 7594, 7611, 7623, 7628, 7630, 7641, 7653, 7676, 7718, 7734, 7742, 7749, 7766, 7777, 7788, 7819, 7838, 7849, 7856, 7867, 7871, 7881, 7890, 7893, 7902, 7922, 7939, 7952, 7973, 7986, 7998, 8018, 8033, 8047, 8063, 8070, 8096, 8107, 8144, 8155, 8173, 8182, 8188, 8207, 8209, 8218, 8238, 8248, 8260, 8286, 8304, 8308, 8314, 8324, 8340, 8364, 8390, 8401, 8416, 8432, 8467, 8497, 8507, 8518, 8553, 8568, 8591, 8612, 8642, 8655, 8657, 8667, 8684, 8689, 8709, 8730, 8743, 8745, 8768, 8797, 8809, 8884, 8888, 8900, 8912, 8994, 9019, 9027, 9057, 9061, 9063, 9088, 9103, 9109, 9116, 9125, 9130, 9142, 9143, 9169, 9179, 9183, 9203, 9226, 9234, 9253, 9277, 9284, 9299, 9334, 9356, 9370, 9379, 9413, 9432, 9444, 9463, 9467, 9473, 9482, 9498, 9513, 9562, 9573, 9596, 9609, 9618, 9624, 9648, 9660, 9668, 9673, 9685, 9699, 9711, 9755, 9787, 9793, 9811, 9815, 9830, 9841, 9854, 9886, 9897, 9913, 9929, 9943, 9968, 9972, 9978, 9992, 9994, 9999, 10008, 10025, 10039, 10065, 10070, 10075, 10087, 10100, 10115, 10130, 10134, 10161, 10175, 10180, 10191, 10208, 10214, 10224, 10242, 10253, 10261, 10269, 10287, 10301, 10305,

[always-andromeda]

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 ��𝐨𝐫? 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.

[noc-ore]

TikTok

3313-1308

[oneterabyteofkilobyteage]

original url http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Agency/3313/ last modified 2006-11-20 06:52:40