#dio morrissey imagine

[jpbpxma]

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)

[scuddisher]

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

[bits-and-babs]

((☁️)) + 10 + Pedro Pascal as Shane 'Dio' Morrissey. He's such a little rat bastard, I imagine him aged up, of course, probably after he gets out of prison? Somewhere in his 40's.

((You're so nice, wah I tried to look and couldnt find it like a dummy, so so sorry about that!))

“𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝?”

pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey x f!Reader

warnings: 18+ you nasties. Masturbation, exhibitionism, echoes of Dio’s god complex!

dio masterlist I| main masterlist |I follower celebration I| ask |I

“F-Fuck-“ you choke out, tears welling in your eyes as you bury your hand in your panties and finally give in to the throbbing need between your thighs.

24 hours. You only had to wait another 24 hours and Dio would be home, but you’re burning for him already, desperate for some friction against your neglected clit. His parole meeting was tomorrow, and his lawyer was certain that it would be granted. Years of behavioural therapy and positive steps left the board with no choice.

The promise of his hands and lips in yours, his voice in your ear whispering what he’d do to you. His letters he sent you during incarceration were filthy— you knew he intended to keep his promises.

Whimpering softly, you rock your aching clit against the heel of your palm in the darkness. You can feel it, the creeping crescendo of your orgasm ebbing at the edges of your mind.

“So, it looks like you’ve betrayed me,” a rumbling voice sounds from the doorway of your bedroom, shocking you out of your impending bliss as you sat up quickly against the mattress. Your wide eyes fall on Dio, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He looks odd like this, without his piercings. The holes had closed back up after years without them. Grey litters his black hair, fine lines and creases by his eyes.

“I-“ you choke, and Dio raises his finger in warning.

“Did you miss feeling me around you so much that you’ve resorted to your hand? Hmm?” He coos, and you can feel your face burn under his gaze. You watch his hand drift down his sternum, palming himself through his trousers. “Parole meeting was pushed forward. Got to come home early.”

Oh…

“Well, don’t stop on my account. If you ache for me, prove it.”

[crowandmousewritingco]

Pairing: trans!Dio Morrissey x trans!reader

Words: 1.2k

Rating: R (so much smut)

Author: Mod Mouse

Summary: You tell Dio you want to try breeding, and he happily obliges.

Warnings: Breeding, male terms for genatalia, praise and degradation, pet names (pup and bunny), strap on, non human dildo, fake cum, slight edging, slight overstimulation(There's probably more. 18+MDNI)

“And you’re sure you wanna do this?” Dio asked over the phone as he drove home back to your shared apartment. 

“I promise,” You answered, biting your lip. You were excited for this. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Dio smirked. He could practically imagine how hard you were right now. “Go ahead and play with that pretty cock of yours until I get home. No cumming though. Would hate it if we couldn’t please bunny.” He teased you. 

You shuttered at his words, his voice easily making goosebumps appear on your skin. “Of course sir.” 

“Good pup.” He hung up as he pulled into the parking lot of the local sex shop. Dio needed a few more treats for tonight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh fuck,” You moaned as you pulled the vibrator away from your aching cock. With each edge you were more and more sensitive and you wanted to cum so badly. But you couldn’t ruin tonight. Dio made it clear that he had something special for you and you were not about to disappoint your boyfriend. 

Lucky for you and your neediness, you didn’t need to wait long. As you pulled your vibrator from your aching cock again, you heard a chuckle. Between your horniness and the noise of the toy you didn’t hear Dio come in. When you saw him, you almost came right then and there. There he was naked except for a strap on and the dildo you’ve had your eye on for months now. 

“Such a pretty little slut you are. So ready for me.” Dio bit his lip and stroked the toy between his fingers playing with the tip as he sauntered over to you, toy swinging with each step. 

“You bought it,” You smiled gently, taking the silicone in your hand. Your eyes lingers on every aspect. The colorful waves that curved over the fat girth that you loved. And the texture was something straight out of the fantasy novels you read. As you ran your hands up and down the bumps your cock twitched with the idea of those rubbing against your walls. 

“Of course, pup. You deserve only the best when I breed that pretty hole of yours,” He growled and raked his fingers through your hair. With a firm tug he pulled your attention back to his face. You moaned at the feeling and he grinned knowing how such a small action turned you on so much. “Let’s see what damage you’ve done to yourself,” He said lightly patting your cheek with the same hand. 

His other hand drifted down your body taking a second to caress your prominent chest scars. Dio took a moment to admire each one slowly before continuing. Down your torso his hand slid before he glided his fingers down your slit. “Fuck bunny. You really were such a good boy. You’re ready to take sir’s cock,” He purred rubbing his fingers against your cock in slow teasing circles. You whimpered at the overstimulation, legs shaking with just simple strokes. With the way Dio was touching you, you feared that you might cum before the fun had begun. 

Dio noticed how much you were tensing so oh so cruelly he removed his fingers from your cock. You whined at the lack of stimulation. “None of that pup. You know what’s coming and only good bunnies get treats.” You nodded and spread your legs further, excited for what Dio had in store. 

“Good boy baby. Now lean back,” He commanded and you obeyed laying back so your ass hung off the edge. Dio took your hips in one hand grasping the flesh in his hand and guided the dildo up and down your slit. “Such a handsome slut for me,” Dio bit his lip as he squeezed your hip. “You’re gonna look so fucking hot.” 

Slowly he pushed the toy inside of you earning a loud moan from your red puffy lips. “Fuck bunny,” He growled as he bottomed out. “Such a pretty hole. Taking it so fucking well.” 

“Fuck sir,” You moaned as you gripped the soft sheets below your need form. It filled you just how you liked. The bumps and ridges hitting in all the right places. “Fuck this feels so good.” 

“My bunny has such good taste,” Dio praised as he slowly began to thrust into you. 

The toy stretched you open in the best way. Each bump and ribbed section caressed all your sensitive areas sending mewls throughout the room, filling the room with the sound of sex. 

“Oh you like that you slutty puppy? Want sir to fill that pretty hole with so much cum you can’t think straight?” He teased his ringed hands grasping against your throat. Your head filled with the floaty feeling you loved so much. 

Dio moaned softly as he felt your heartbeat quicken, urging him to thrust faster into your needy hole. He needed..no demanded that he see his cum drip out of you. “I’m gonna breed you so full bunny,” Dio panted as he thrusted faster into you knowing you could take it. His fingers gripped your ass, hoisting it higher as he pressed into you over and over. 

“Please please please sir please breed me! I wanna be so full of your cum sir,” You panted as you felt the heat in your stomach growing and growing. 

“That’s right bunny. I’m gonna make sure you are so full that your dripping with my fucking cum,” He growed as his hips snapped forward sending pleasurable jolts through your body. With toes curling and legs shaking you squeezed around his cock. The ribs on the toy pressing against your sensitive spots. You moaned so loud you knew that your neighbors heard, but you didn’t care. All that was floating in that handsome head of yours was the idea of being Dio’s good breeding slut. 

With a final thrust he squeezed the dildo sending the fake cum inside of you. It oozed into you, filling you just how you wanted. But Dio didn’t stop there. He wanted to make sure none of that precious cum of his was leaving that hole of yours. Quickly he thrusted into you again and again, overstimulation flooding your system as the pleasure drifted on the lines of pain. 

“Fuck fuck fuck sir!” You whimpered as you quickly came again, this one coming out of nowhere. With one more thrust, Dio stayed inside of you, the “knot” popping into place. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you slowly came down from your high, and your eyes fluttered closed. 

You panted as your head cleared from the sex driven thoughts that were once there. It took you a moment to realize the cool metal against your cheek. You opened your eyes and your heart clenched at the sight. 

The usual attitude Dio usually had was replaced with concern that laced in his eyes, worried that he went a little too far. You mustered what little strength you had left and kissed him softly. Dio’s features softened and he kissed you back with a gentleness only you saw. Gently he lowered you back on the bed and continued to kiss you as the toy slid out of you. But neither of you noticed. You were too focused on each as you kissed and cuddled deep into the night.

Credit: @inklore

All Works Taglist

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Pedro Characters Taglist

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[nerdieforpedro]

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. 🥰

[existential-angstt]

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

[something-tofightfor]

grandiose

Pairing: Shane “Dio” Morrissey x ... well, you’ll see. 

Word Count: 1880

Rating: M? Themes and language, allusions to sex. 

Author’s Note:

This story is based on this post by @stealyourblorbos and this conversation, which I tweaked a little to suit my thoughts:

I got her permission write it, and hope she enjoys. IDK what this is or where it came from, but here we are. 

Thank you for letting me play in your sandbox with your art for a little while, Jules. It’s a lot of fun.  And thank you to @the-blind-assassin-12​ for the beta and for making some comments and suggestions.

YES, I am aware that this raises more questions than it answers - but it’s a one shot, so I hope you have a good imagination to fill in the blanks.

Summary: 

One night is enough to change someone’s life, but which night will that be?

grandiose: characterized by affectation of importance or splendor or by absurd exaggeration; often implies a whiff of pretension

It started as a joke - even to him. 

The way he dressed, the black dye he put into his hair, the way he spoke. It was almost too easy to fall into the persona that he’d carefully crafted. Despite the way he looked, he was able to fade into the background in most cases  - sitting back and watching, waiting until the right person crossed his path. 

The right impressionable person, anyway. 

And there’d been plenty of those - young men and women that hadn’t looked closely enough to figure out that it was all an act, all a way for Shane Morrissey to pretend that he wasn’t who he was supposed to be - to make himself feel important, to matter in a way that had nothing to do with a 9-5 job in a sensible position or meeting the societal norms that he’d been inundated with from childhood. 

But there’d been times when he’d gotten too close to things, the act bleeding over more than it should have. There’d been the incident with Raven and that goddamn knife in his early 20’s, and that had been hard for a while. But even that had mostly blown over quickly, much to everyone’s surprise. 

While locked up, he’d started writing. He’d done a few years in jail for the assault before getting released early due to good behavior, which was ample time to fill up multiple notebooks with his thoughts and feelings. 

After his release, he’d roamed New York City looking for outlets to share his work.  And when faced with even fewer options than he’d had before, Dio dropped the moniker and persona and started going by Shane again. 

But the city had quickly become too expensive for him to stay, and no one seemed interested in listening to his poetry or lyrics when he looked just like everyone else, so he’d spent some of the little money he’d made and saved on a bus ticket west.

He’d found a secondhand guitar in a pawn shop, carting the case around along with his battered backpack of all his worldly possessions and teaching himself to play as he made his way toward the opposite side of the country. Shane was determined to make it happen for himself there in a way that he never had as Dio on the East Coast. 

And for a while, he’d done just that. He busked in parks, turning his writing into song while actively avoiding the same traps that had gotten him into trouble before. He made friends - other struggling artists and musicians - and after only a few weeks of roaming parks and sleeping on benches, he was living in a two bedroom apartment near Santa Monica with four other people. 

Shane worked overnight cleaning buildings. He earned enough to pay weekly rent and feed himself. It allowed him to continue performing on the Venice Beach boardwalk and the Pier. Slowly, he began to find himself, though the memory of who he’d pretended to be was never buried too deep. 

Until one night, a year after his move to California, he looked up after finishing a song only to find one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen watching him play. She caught his eye immediately, her ruby lips full and perfectly painted, the rest of her makeup done to match. 

He’d tried to play it cool, giving her a nod as she dropped a $20 into his guitar case and then stepped back, the man returning to his instrument and starting a new song. 

She was there when he looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest and fire in her eyes, but before he could speak, she beat him to it. “Do you have a few minutes? I think we should talk, Dio.” 

Her voice was like smoke, curling around him and muting everything else happening on the pier.  

He only had eyes for her, and moments later, he was walking next to her across the sand, parallel to the water with the guitar case slung over one shoulder. “No one’s called me that in years.” His fingers gripped the leather of the strap as he spoke, but the woman stayed quiet. 

They followed alongside the edge of the surf, her hair blowing in the wind, and after ten or so minutes, she stopped and turned back to face him. “I’ve been watching you.” Her voice was low but it was sharp, the look in her eyes piercing as she stared at him. “Put the guitar down, Dio, let’s talk.” 

He moved on autopilot, a feeling of certainty growing in his chest by the second though he didn’t understand it. “Who are you? How do you know me?” He wet his lips, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve been watching me? Where?”

“Philadelphia. New York City. Here. I’ve been everywhere with you, Dio. Don’t you recognize me?” He looked closer, the man’s head tilted to the side, his long, dark locks moving with the breeze.Giving himself a few seconds to think, he tried to figure out who she was and where he might have known her from. But I don’t know. I would have remembered someone like her. She stepped even closer, lifting a hand to touch the side of his face. “Have you ever wanted something you didn’t think you could have?” 

“Yes.” He closed his eyes, nodding. “I have.” - 

She continued to touch him, the scent of the woman’s perfume overwhelming his senses. Rich and spicy, it reminded him of the altars he’d made and maintained when he’d gone by the name she was using for him. 

Swallowing hard, he reached for her, breathing hard as he placed his hands at her waist. The woman didn’t shy away from his hold, instead moving even closer.

“I can give it to you.” She hummed as she kissed him on the cheek, lips dragging over it as they moved toward his ear. “I can give you everything.” The man felt her breath on his skin and then the bite of her teeth against his earlobe before they caught - and tugged on the silver hoops he wore there. “Everything you’ve ever wanted.” 

It was difficult to breathe, the sound of the ocean dulled by the woman’s proximity, the air heavy in his lungs. 

One of her hands was pressed to the back of his head, her fingers twisted into his hair; the other was running idly up and down his arm, the tips of her fingernails dragging slowly over the skin and bringing goosebumps to the surface. “How? What do you want from me?” 

He didn’t know how he was able to get the words out, but she laughed quietly at them, the hand moving all the way down his arm before her fingers slid between his, pushing their palms together. “Nothing you won’t miss.” She squeezed, pulling on his hair with her other hand. “Nothing you didn’t already claim you were ready to give.” 

He was confused at the woman’s words, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. 

She’d honed in on the thoughts concealed in the deepest part of his brain, the plans he’d made so many years earlier and all but abandoned in order to survive. “OK.” He shivered, nodding. “Sure.” He felt her cheeks lift in a smile and then the woman kissed him, yanking his head backwards enough so that she could press her lips to his. 

But the kiss was broken only moments later, the woman releasing his hair and then stepping back, though she didn’t let go of his hand. “Tell me what you crave, Dio.” He was breathing hard, still reeling from the kiss, but her demeanor was no different than it had been, the woman’s pale skin almost glowing under the moonlight, her dark eyes locked with his. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want them to worship me.” His upper lip curled, the words coming with no pause. “All of them. I want their attention. I want them to see how I live. I want them to love me.” The woman hummed again, angling her head back, though she never looked away from him. 

It felt good to be so honest - to tell someone that even though he’d tried to ignore it for years, he still felt that way - still wanted the same things he had before. The Dio persona had been false, but the reasons he’d adopted it hadn’t been. 

He didn’t know what game the woman was playing, or how the night would end, though he hoped it would end in a bed with her somewhere. He certainly didn’t expect the way she moved as she pulled her hand free from his and then straightened her shoulders, the ocean - and moonlight - at her back. 

And it had to have been a trick of the light when he caught sight of a shadow behind her that looked like a pair of wings, unfurling and stretching up and out before they disappeared, the man blinking in confusion as she uncrossed her arms, still staring at him.

“I can make that happen.” Her smile grew, white teeth on display behind the red lips that had just been on his. “I can make it all happen for you.” 

She took another breath, extending her hand toward him, and for the first time, Dio noticed the design on her palm: a pentagram in dark ink, stark against the woman’s pale skin. Like the one I used to… He blinked slowly and then stepped forward, nodding. What do I have to lose?

“Let’s do.” 

It felt good to be back in New York City. 

Despite the abrupt nature of his previous departure, and the memories associated with the time he’d spent there earlier, Dio felt a sense of nostalgia for the place. And that’s a shock. 

With a final shrug of his shoulders, the man finished re-tying his boot and then glanced upward, nodding to the small crew of people gathered behind the camera. He gave them a thumbs up, and then pressed the tips of his fingers to the cement, the gold rings adorning them glinting in the light from above. 

He focused on the camera flashes as they came, repositioning his legs and arms and giving the crew what they asked for with the subtle tilt of his head and the smirk that had become second nature to him over the previous months. 

And though he worked with the long coat, the fabric pooled around his legs as he changed positions, he was careful to keep certain appendages hidden from view, though he could feel the weight of them against his back - their presence a constant reminder of what he’d chosen on Santa Monica Beach. 

But it was worth it, he reminded himself as he smiled for the camera, one of the assistants rushing over to adjust his styled hair and reposition his garters before any more pictures were taken, her fingers combing carefully through the strands and then sliding - not entirely professionally - over the skin of his thighs. Completely worth it. 

His smile grew, but so did the heat that crawled over his right palm - and the man knew exactly what that meant. 

It’s time to find someone else… and make a new offer.

- 

tag list reblog coming soon

[insolent-uprising]

Writing details and specifics

Types of writing:

One-shots

Imagines

Headcannons

Blurbs

Multichapter fics (to be completely transparent, however, this is risky. I have a short attention span and tend to burn out on longer pieces. If you have a prompt in mind though, it should turn out great!)

Characters I write for:

Joel Miller [game or show version] (The Last of Us)

Ellie Williams [game or show version] (The Last of Us)

Oberyn Martell (Game of Thrones)

Javier Pena (Narcos)

Frankie Morales (Triple Frontier)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Javi G (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent)

Ezra (Prospect)

Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984)

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

Dio Morrissey (NYPD Blue)

Max Phillips (Bloodsucking Bastards)

If it seems I missed one or you'd like to ask for more specifics, send me an ask.

NSWF Yes's:

Most kinks, including but not limited to:

Choking

Bondage

Breeding kink

Rough

Dom/Sub dynamics (you choose the specifics of said dynamics)

Daddy/Mommy kink (try to keep it a little light on this one though, with me specifically it can come out a little cringey if too much emphasis is put on it)

Anal

Spitting

Slapping or spanking (keep it fairly light, see NSFW No's)

Praise kink

Degradation kink

Feral! characters

Aphrodisiacs (see sex pollen trope)

Pegging

Risky! sex (see NSFW No's for specifics)

Sex work

Cockwarming

Oral (m or f recieving)

Mild weapon play (see NSFW No's)

Voyeurism

Masturbation (mutual or solitary)

MAYBE dubcon, depending on the circumstances provided (CONSENT IS KEY. I am not promoting dubcon in real life in any way, this is a work of fiction. Always ask your partner for consent <3)

Again, the list of kinks I will write for is not limited to that list. If you have any questions or requests for kinks not on either list, please send me an ask.

NSFW No's:

Underage sex

Rape/excessive noncon

Excessive violence (see NSFW Yes's)

Foot fetish (Sorry to the people that are into it, I'm just not capable or comfortable in writing this kind of work.)

Public sex (this makes me uncomfortable as well, sorry guys)

Absolutely NO HBO Ellie or TLOU 1 Ellie (see NSFW No's #1)

Slurs

Consensual breeding

Bestiality

Any elements of pedophilia

Any Ellie x male reader works. (this applies to SFW and NSFW alike) Please respect her sexuality.

Any works revolving around Pedro himself. (this applies to SFW and NSFW alike) Pedro is a real person and it makes me uncomfortable to write for him. He has a real life and real feelings, I don't want to violate him in such a way. (For anyone thinking this applies to Javier Pena as well, I write strictly for Pedro's portrayal of him. Javi is a fictionalized version of the real life agent.)

If you have any questions regarding this list feel free to send an ask :) Also, no kink shaming whatsoever will be allowed in this space.

Random notes:

Willing to do any tropes!! If you have a specific one in mind, hit me up!

Storylines don't have to be romantic or sexual!! I've noticed a lot of writers don't include platonic works in their library! Sometimes all we need is a friend or family figure. If it's good with you, it's good with me! <3

If a storyline bothers you, please don't spread hate. If you must, please share your opinion in a respectful and polite way.

I'm willing to write for female, male, and gender neutral readers. I'll generally write for afab (often female identifying as well) readers, just because that's what I write best. However, I have no problem writing for any other types of people if requested!! The writing may not be as accurate, but I'd love to include everyone here <3

If you have any extra specific prompts, such as a dialogue snippet, I accept all requests!! Send em in!

[always-andromeda]

So first of all I rlly liked the Oklahoma smokeshow it was awesome

can you do Dio Morrissey fanfic where the f!reader Is a Virgin and there is thigh riding overstimulation and petnames use like your imagination but it has to have these things

Hi, dear!! Just thought I’d let you know that I didn’t write Oklahoma Smokeshow!! 😅 That’s from the massively talented @laters-gators!! I’m pretty sure they’re on a hiatus right now though so I’m not sure if their requests are open or not?

Either way, I’d love to fulfill this request if you’d still like me to!! If not, that’s totally fine too!!

[theteddylupinexperience]

The Concert | Dio Morrissey x f!reader

AN: not a lot to say about this one, aside from the fact that I’m actually really happy with how it turned out. I always love the “best friend’s younger sister” trope, and who better to do it with than our goth king himself. Thanks as always to @pascalpanic for hyping me up and listening to me rant about mosh pits. Enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, kissing, super mild punk show related violence, brief anxiety mention, Dio is a little cringey but you like it

“Kiddo, you’re not even gonna have fun,” your brother swears, “this band is harsh no doubt, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“As sweet as your over protection is, you’re not ditching me tonight,” you roll your eyes. Your brother is sitting on your bathroom counter watching you get ready for the concert he promised a month ago he’d take you to. You know his concern comes from a genuine place, you’d only gotten into the goth scene fairly recently, and long time fans can be really intense with “virgins.”

“Hey, uh, is Shane gonna be there?” you ask, casually as you can manage. You attempt to continue with your black eyeshadow to avoid eye contact with your brother, but he sees right through you anyways.

“First of all, you have to call him Dio while we’re in public. You are not killing the vibe on your induction night. Second of all, gross. I’m sitting right here. Drool over my best friend on your own time.” Your brother pokes your forehead with one of your makeup brushes in a scolding manor.

“Okay well first of all,” you start, “this is my time because this is my bathroom. And second of all… do YOU have any weird nickname I should be aware of before I, and I quote, kill the vibe?”

Your brother flushes slightly, looking at the ground before answering, “Uh, it’s Ghost, actually.”

You narrow your eyes at him, biting back a laugh at how ridiculous he looks, bright red ears contrasting the Doc Martens currently kicking against the floor.

“Dio and… Ghost?” He just nods, looking up at you finally.

“Well alright, my knights in dirty ass Tripp pants.” The comment earns you a laugh, and you feel a small swell of pride rise in your chest. For as insufferable as you found each other a lot of the time, your older brother really was like your best friend. His group of friends had stuck together since middle school, and had absolutely taken you under their wing when you’d let yourself really fall into your darker side. Tonight was your first real night out with everyone, and you couldn’t pretend to be more nervous. You had known your brother’s best friend Shane, Dio, since you were in third grade and had always found him fascinating. You can’t deny that he’s gorgeous, tall and lean, always wearing a leather trench coat that accentuates those features. Full, plush lips, and deep brown eyes that you want to get lost in. Just as you find yourself actually getting lost in the thought of Dio, you’re startled back to reality when your brother turns your hair dryer on and blows it in your face.

“Yo, kid, did I lose you? We gotta go,” in your trance he’s managed to get his hair done and a subtly cool amount of eyeliner. You can only hope not to look like a child, or god forbid a drone, next to him and his friends. “Don’t be nervous, just get your shoes on.”

When you get your boots laced up, you give yourself one last glance in the mirror, fluffing your hair to make it look less obviously styled, and run out the door.

When you arrive at the venue, if you could call it that, it looks more like a rundown warehouse, the music is already in full swing. “The openers always fuckin’ suck, kid,” your brother had told you, “we always show up at least an hour late.”

You’re rocking nervously on your heels, stuck to the ground where your brother had told you to wait while he found the group and brought them over to you. You smile widely when you see them approaching you, but are quick to cover it with what you hope is a cool smirk. Out of place doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel, it would be more accurate to say you’re on a different plane of existence. You’ve managed to transcend discomfort and now have settled into a calmer state.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Wednesday Addams herself,” a deep voice calls out from the head of the pack.

“Hey Sh- uh, Dio,” you stammer as the king himself puts his hands on your shoulders to inspect your outfit. Your stomach drops when he brushes some hair from your face. “You look good. Like you put some thought into how you look, unlike the rest of these drones.” Your face lights up at his praise, and flushes quickly when he winks at you.

Your group makes their way towards the front of the stage when you hear the headlining band announced. The first few songs go off without a hitch, the crowd moves in a seething, pulsing way to the music, and you find yourself moving along with them. You catch Dio’s eyes a couple times to find him already looking at you, his expression relaxed and amused, but his eyes dark as he takes in everything around him. You’re about to walk over and ask him to dance with you when you hear from the stage, “Alright everybody, let’s open this fucking pit!”

Your eyes widen briefly, but you try your best to stay cool in front of your brother and his friends. You can only imagine how lame Dio would find you if you lost your cool because of some moshing. Unfortunately, in your attempt to save face, you’ve distracted yourself to the people around you and find yourself getting shoved, almost to the ground. Your brother hurries over and helps you up, and you assure him you’re fine. It’s nothing you can’t handle. He keeps his grip on you a moment longer, and ruffles your hair before jumping into the circle pit himself. You do your best to keep dancing around, staying away from everyone jumping and shoving each other as much as you can, and for a few minutes you’re surprisingly successful.

The next song that plays is even more intense than the last, and you find yourself crowded against the stage trying to stay away from everything. Your heart rate quickens, and you can feel an anxiety attack trying to creep its way up your spine. You look around desperately, searching for your brother so you can beg him to take you home, when a hand on your shoulder startles you.

Warm brown eyes search your own, “Didn’t mean to scare you, darling, but do you want to get out of here?”

You nod up at Dio, and he takes your hand, guiding you in front of him towards a side door. One of his hands rests protectively against the small of your back, and you shudder at the warmth. You’re outside, the air is cool against the sweat on your skin, and yet Dio’s hand never leaves yours.

“D’you wanna sit?” He gestures to a bench resting against the side of the building.

“I-” your voice cracks, and you clear your throat to find some volume, “Sure, that sounds nice.”

The pair of you sit in silence for a moment while you catch your breath, you can feel Dio’s eyes boring into you, but can’t bear to look at him. “God, I’m so sorry, Shane,” you whisper, “Er, Dio, fuck, sorry again.”

“Don’t apologize, darling, it’s just you and me out here.” You finally dare to look up, and he’s smiling gently at you, holding both of your hands in one of his, and rubbing the other soothingly up your back. “I know the first time can be intense, to say the least. It’s a madhouse in there, and those fucking drones don’t know any better than to push everyone around. It should be a crime to scare or shove anyone as perfect as you.”

You huff out a strangled laugh at his words, and move your hands to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you’re my best friend’s little sister,” he starts, and his grip on your back tightens when disappointment crosses your features, “and because you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. If someone as ethereal as you will even allow me in your presence, I have done something right.”

You turn your body towards him completely, searching his face. The strong, confident, devil may care Dio from inside is nothing compared to the patient, sweet, borderline insecure Shane you’re talking to out here. You reach your hand up to caress his face, smoothing down his dyed black curls, tracing your thumb against his full bottom lip. Shane melts into your touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at the contact, the heat of your skin against his feels more powerful than the sun at this moment. When you run your thumb nail against the sensitive skin behind his ear, his eyes snap open.

“Can I- would you… would you be mad if I kissed you?” He asks, his voice shy, but his eyes full of want.

‘I’ll be mad if you don’t,” you laugh incredulously. Shane places one hand against your jaw, and the other one slides up your back to rest in your hair. The cool metal of his rings feels electric, but nothing could compare to the jolt you feel when his lips meet yours. He’s soft, so much gentler than you imagined he’d be, and he takes his time losing himself in the feeling of your lips moving against his. He pulls away too soon, and you grab the front of his jacket to pull him back to you.

This kiss is not as gentle, but it is equally as sweet and intoxicating. His hand tightens on your scalp, and his tongue presses against the seam of your lips. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue against yours. He tastes like clove cigarettes and Jaeger, and it’s fucking incredible. He’s more perfect than your wildest dreams of him, and the low moan he lets out when you scratch your nails up his back makes you reconsider everything you’ve ever thought about heaven.

Eventually you have to breathe, so you pull back just a bit and rest your forehead against his. “Wow,” you manage to get out. Shane laughs, the sound is more musical than anything you’ve heard tonight.

“Wow is correct, my darling, you are truly more ethereal than I could have fathomed.” He kisses you again, softly on the lips, and then places another on your cheek. “Do you think I could take you out for real sometime soon?”

You bite your lip to prevent a giddy smile from breaking across your face, and nod quickly. “I actually found this record store with its own coffee shop a couple towns over, we could check that out, maybe? I mean, I’ve liked you since freshman year, so anything you want to do would be perfect. You’re perfect, Dio.”

His ears flush an adorable pink, and he smiles almost shyly up at you. “Shane,” he says, “Call me Shane.”

You beam up at him, “Shane.”

He stands up, takes your hand, and leads you back into the concert venue. Walking arm in arm with the king, you feel like you could jump right in the middle of that mosh pit and come out on top. Shane guides you back to your friends, and you try not to get overwhelmed by the stares and whispers when people see you together. Your brother catches a glimpse of you, his eyes drop down to where your hand is connected with Shane’s, and you brace yourself for an obnoxious or over protective comment.

“It’s about goddamn time.”

[moonknightyws]

I want to be that hand.

[shanediomorrissey]

I think that if Max Phillips and Dio were to meet each other it’d just be a lot of Dio being annoying and asking Max to turn him into a vampire to complete his aesthetic

[existential-angstt]

Pay Attention Please (P. 7) // (professor) Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Reader

A/N: hhhhhhhhh i found a tik tok that reminded me of prof!dio, here have it:https://www.tiktok.com/@christianrlocke/video/7219505883754057003?_r=1&_t=8cvfMBYA92Uand uh- on this chapter- no, no, dont thank me. hold the applause. just enjoy :)

Taglist: @lokanda​ @sneetsnootyoit

“Excitement” was an understatement for what you felt when you woke up the next day, the day of Professor Morrissey’s next class. All you’d been able to think about for the last two days was your two bodies tangled together, how pretty he was when he slept, dark eyelashes fanned over his pretty cheeks. You took a little extra care to get ready, actually putting on makeup for once and styling your hair. Your roommate was watching you the entire time with such a look on her face but completely silent. 

You sighed. “What?” 

 Your roommate bit her lip a little, holding back a cat that ate the canary grin. “So you gonna fuck him again?” she said flatly, still trying so hard to hold back her grin. You made a little mocking pouty face that broke into a blushy look. “Maybe,” you managed. 

 “Gosh, Y/N, a professor. I never woulda pegged you for the type. Needless to say, I’m happy…. And- are you- going over there tonight?” she eyed your makeup and hair. You did that same little mocking pouty angry face again, even though it was exaggerated and ended in a smile. “Maybe,” you repeated, even though that was certainly at least your hope if not your plan.

 “Good,” she quipped and started typing on her phone. You were pretty sure she was texting some fuckbuddy that it was a go tonight, which made you want to go over to- your mind relished this- Dio’s place even more. 

 You paused when choosing an outfit. You were no prude but you usually dressed a little more modestly- comfortably was a better word. Sweatpants, sweaters… jeans…. You weren’t a sorority girl by any stretch of the imagination. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have things in your arsenal. You decided on a dark green turtleneck sweater and paired it with a short black pleated skirt– something leftover from your dark academia phase and a little too short for you to usually consider it. A lot too short. But today? Oh, today it was perfect. 

 You added some thin see-through tights and some big black boots– you thought it would suit his style, draw him right in like a fly in a trap. After all, you had a convenient back door into some of the things he liked. You were a little self-conscious leaving your dorm but every time that creeping anxiety sent circus mice flipping in your stomach you thought of the noises he made when he fucked you, how he called you princess. It replaced those little circus mice with a burning white heat that made you walk with your shoulders squared and your head high.

 You beat him– and everyone else– to the classroom like usual, sank into your regular seat and waited. He was a little later getting to class than normal and other students had already begun to filter in, making you that much more enthused to see his response to your little outfit. He hurried in and set his things down, hardly noticing you, in a hurry because he was late (at least for him, he was). He got a few things up on the board and once he had all his things set out on his desk ready to begin, his eyes drifted over to you. And stopped. 

 He paused there, frozen– and the other students walking in might've mistaken it for him being lost in thought. But you could see his eyes were locked on your legs, stretched out beneath your desk and perfectly parted– not indecently of course, but enough to garner this reaction. His eyes flicked up to yours and you could see some of that heat there from the other day. Hook, line, and sinker.

 He turned back around and stared at the board for a moment as though consulting its wisdom. You knew– or at least hoped– he was trying to hide the half-boner he suddenly had. You could see his back rise and fall as he took a very deep breath. Definitely the second one then. You watched with sick triumph and a little grin you couldn’t help as he sat back down at his desk and made busy while the rest of the class filtered in. 

 After everyone was in, he got back up and started the lesson. He was doing so well– he didn’t give away any of what you could tell he was feeling. The tension, the… need. He kept his gaze pointedly away from you but every once in a while, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself and his eyes would drift in your direction, specifically your legs. And then he’d catch himself and quickly look anywhere else. You bit your lip to keep from laughing at him. 

 Towards the end of the lesson, he gave the class a worksheet and sat down to grade papers, a little more restrained with his casual glances. You pouted a little that a desk was now in your way, that he was practically hiding from you but worked on your worksheet diligently, sure there would be something in it for you afterward. The classroom phone rang suddenly and sharply through the quiet room and the professor jumped a little. 

 He picked it up, his voice a little jagged from jumping as badly as he did. “Hello, room 113?” He listened to the other end and after a long moment, his face went a little stoney. Unhappy. “I see,” he finally said. A few other students also picked up on his tone and watched him on the phone call, waiting to see what the news was. That giddy horny feeling in your stomach turned to dread as you watched his expressions change. He finally hung up the phone and the class waited with bated breath but he just went back to whatever he was doing, his mouth set in a grim line. 

 What in the hell was that phone call? 

 Class ended sooner than you expected– Professor Morrissey called it early and dismissed everyone. Told them to get an early jump on their homework. As the class emptied out, his eyes fell on you and stayed there– not on your eyes, but lower. The heat in your belly reignited and your heartbeat thrummed in your ears. He got up and gathered his things, his eyes flicking back to yours in a silent invitation. You jumped up and gathered your things and hurried up to the front of the room to meet him but he was already walking out, meaning you were practically jogging to keep up with his long-legged strides.    

He wasn’t giving you hardly any time to keep up, only slowing down once you fell more than five feet behind. You completed your routine, down the stairs, onto the bus- but when you moved to get off at your stop he grabbed your wrist. You froze and looked up at him wide-eyed but he didn’t even look at you, just gave your trapped wrist a squeeze. You stayed put, watching him a moment longer and then dropped your gaze, enjoying that his hand didn’t drop its hold on you.

 At the next stop he gave your wrist a little tug and then let go, moving for the door. You followed and noted that this stop was much closer to his apartment, just up the street from it. He continued with his faster pace, even though for him it seemed a normal pace– you’d never noticed how much he slowed himself down when you two were together simply so you didn’t have to chase after him like a small dog. He was already halfway inside his building when you reached the door. 

 You followed him up and into his apartment and he dropped his stuff just inside the door like last time, letting you come in and do the same. But once you had, he rounded on you and boxed you in, pinning you against the closed front door. All of the breath came rushing out of your chest as all of his weight was pressed against you and you looked up at him with wide startled eyes. 

 He regarded you with those deep brown irises, nearly black in this light, just looking you over, inches away from your face. “Did you think you could wear something like that to tease me?” he said lowly, eyes searching your face. All you could do was look up at him with wide eyes, heat flushing your face and other places. “I need an answer,” he said lowly, shifting against you, not so much grinding or anything but just shifting his hold and how he was resting his weight against you.

 “I- I- don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” you stammered out. You knew perfectly well what he meant. He let out a low rumbly noise, not a growl but a sound deep in his chest. You felt his hands grip your wrists and bring them up to pin them against the door on either side of your head, leaning in closer. You could feel his hot breath on your face. Everything was so hot and your skin was prickling and you couldn’t move, just trapped in this tiny space beneath him, his eyes roving over you, mostly your face– your eyes, your mouth, your throat-

 “Don’t pretend– don’t be a brat,” he murmured, leaning so close you thought he was going to kiss you– but he didn’t. And that was part of this act, this teasing. Holding you so close and not really doing anything at all but holding you there under his heavy stare. 

 "I- I don't know what you mean, D-Dio," you stuttered again. He purred low, squeezing your wrists, his nails biting into your flesh. "Let's stick with "sir" for now why don't we?" 

 He shifted against you again, pressing his hips into yours and holding you there firmly. "Say "yes, sir"," he chided lowly, looking up and down your body, eyes lingering on your skirt. 

 "Y- yes-" You moaned, getting lost in the pressure of his hips against yours, his hard cock pressed against you, making your breath catch. "Yes, what, princess? Yes, what?" He pushed your hands a bit higher against the door, above your head a little.

 You whimpered slightly, pushing your hips up towards him to get some sweet friction but he pulled away, his only contact his hands on yours. 

 "Say it," he murmured, eyeing you again, those dark brown eyes burning into you. "Yes- yes, sir, yes- sir," you gasped out, every inch of you on fire. 

 "Good girl," he mumbled as he came crashing in to kiss you deeply, pressing his whole frame against yours, crushing you against the door. You let out a stifled moan and kissed him back desperately, tugging at your hands which were still pinned but his hold on them didn't loosen. 

 The smell of him was in your mouth, in your nose- dark musk and a hint of spice, like pumpkin and cinnamon. He kissed you so sweetly and deeply, the complete opposite of his demeanor up to this point, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth to lick and taste you. He moaned softly against you and you replied with a moan, so responsive under his hands. 

 A second more and he was pulling you away from the door, refusing to break the connection he had with your mouth but walking you step by step back to the bedroom. 

 You followed willingly, letting him guide you, and laughed a little when he grunted, as he'd backed into the doorframe of his bedroom a little. He took the opportunity to pull you inside and push you lightly into the bed. You flopped down against it on your tummy, bent over the end of it. He steadied you with hands on your hips, holding you in that bent-over position. You bit your lip and minutely angled your ass so it was presented to him. 

 He let put a little purr and, left hand still resting on your hip, he moved his right hand up to rub at your ass. You moaned and pushed back against his hand, panting softly against his sheets. His hand started pushing your skirt up and he murmured, "Here's how this is going to go."

 "I'm going to spank you… for being such a teasing little slut all of class– after all, we should remain professional in public," he said, still rubbing at your ass. Your heart was thrumming in your ears now and there was a fiery tingle at the bottom of your stomach. 

 "I'm going to spank you and you're going to count. If you mess up, you start again. If you mess up twice… well. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it but… you won't like it," he said in a deep low voice that made you shudder. He gave your ass a squeeze and said, "Say, "Yes, sir"," 

 "Y- yes, sir," you moaned. This was going to be hard. He leaned in closer, pressing his cock into your ass and hissed in your ear, "And no stammering or you begin again." You moaned again, panting softly, heart still racing. 

 He paused a moment and then gave your ass a swift spank. "I didn't hear a "yes, sir" princess," he hummed, clearly enjoying himself. You cried out at the strike, arching your back more to push your ass toward him. "Y- yes, sir-" You steeled yourself not to stammer again, "Yes, sir."

 "That's my good girl," he praised, rubbing at where he'd just smacked you before delivering another, slightly softer spank. He paused, waiting. 

 "One," you said firmly, fighting an unevenness in your voice. You could hear the smirk on his face when he said, "Very good." He spanked again, a little harder this time, his hand remaining on your ass to soothe it. You moaned at the thought of what kind of marks would be left on your ass from his pretty hands and his pretty rings-

 "Start again," he huffed, smacking you harder. You cried out again, the cry becoming a moan as you repeated, "One."

 He smacked again, making such a pretty fucking sound that made your cunt tingle. "Two," you panted out. 

 Another stroke, another moan from you. "Three," you choked out. He spanked again sharply. "Four," you gasped out, hips bucking. 

 "Fuck look at you," he murmured, rubbing a soothing hand over your ass again. He gave you another spank. "F-ive," you choked, hoping he wouldn't count it as a stammer. But he rubbed at your ass with a little groan, grinding into you, dragging his cock against your ass slowly. You listened to his breathing quicken and change, your ass stinging from the strikes.

"Look at you, good girl," he groaned, pulling back so he could roll you over onto your back. Once you were resituated he was upon you again, devouring you, kissing you hard and deep, his hands exploring. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer and holding him against you as you rolled your hips against him for friction, moaning into his mouth. He let you, taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth again, tongues tangling. 

 Still kissing and licking at him, you reached for his hips, for his pants so you could start tugging at his belt eagerly. He let out a deep rumble and one of his hands grabbed yours, pausing against you, his hot breath hitting your face. 

 "Beg for it," he murmured against you, his eyes darker than before. You looked up at him wide-eyed, lips slightly parted and he leaned in to lick at your bottom lip. You shuddered softly and looked up at him again. "Beg," he repeated lowly.

 "Please," you found yourself whimpering up to him, your hand struggling against his hold, reaching for his belt again. "Please," you whined.

 He moaned softly and released your hand, letting you yank at his belt which elicited a grunt. He kissed your neck, nipping lightly as you undid buttons and zippers, tearing off his pants as much as you could. He reached down to help you, stepping out of the pants as he sucked a mark on your neck. 

 A moment later and he was inside you again, the size of his cock just as impressive as the first time. You gasped loudly and moaned and he moaned back, his eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, princess," he said softly. 

 You whined softly at the name, squeezing him lightly even though you were already tight around him. He hissed a little, gripping your shoulder, and then slowly he started to rock his hips against you, fucking you gently. You let out soft moans with each thrust until you adjusted to him, taking him more easily and pulling him closer with your hands. He kissed sloppily at your neck, still bucking into you. “You take me so well, princess, fuck- such a good girl for me-” 

 You moaned harshly as he nipped at the spot where your neck met your shoulder and moved a bit faster, fucking you harder. You dug your nails into his back, sure you were leaving marks which turned you on all the more. “P-please, Dio- I’m- I’m gonna-” 

 And then all at once he stopped, freezing mid-thrust and you blinked your eyes open at him, looking up. He was smirking down at you, panting softly, and just stopped. You whined, squirming, trying to get him to move, but he reached down and pinned your arms again. “What did we say about what you can call me?” he said lowly, leaning in really close and pressing the softest faintest kisses across your mouth and face. You moaned softly, clit still throbbing at how close you were, the coil in your gut still tight and sensitive. He gave a sharp rut and you let out a choked whimper, heart racing. 

 “P- please, sir, please- please- le- let me cum, please-” you begged. He slowly started moving again, taking his time to pick up speed, eyes on you the whole time. When you turned your head and let your eyes close again just to feel him, he said, “Look at me.” You did as he said and he kept his eyes on yours, fucking you harder. You could feel yourself drawing close again and you gasped softly, determined not to say anything so he couldn’t deny you again. But he caught it– and, as he watched your expressions closely, he was able to once again bring you right to the edge and then just halt, your pussy throbbing and aching without the sweet relief of orgasm. 

 You whimpered, a few tears drawing to your eyes at the neediness. “D- s-sir, please- please,” you whined, a few tears falling. He looked satisfied but softened a little, starting to move again. “Call me dio,” he mumbled to you, kissing at the fallen tears on your cheeks, licking them up as he thrust into you. “D- Dio, Dio, Dio, D- Dio-” 

 “Cum for me princess,” he commanded, moving his hips faster and reaching down to touch your clit. You could barely hold it back for that permission but once it was spoken you were over with. You came with a shout, your back arching, gripping onto him tightly in every sense, nails digging into his back. He gasped a little and fucked you through it, meeting his own shortly after. He laid on you for a moment before slowly pulling out with a hiss and shakily getting to his feet. You mewled at the loss but he disappeared out the bedroom door and all you could do was lay there trembling with overstimulation. 

 He came back quickly with a glass of water and a soft towel, which he used to clean you up before very gently feeding you the water, whispering soft “good girl” ‘s to you all the while. After he downed some water himself, he climbed into bed beside you and pulled you tightly into his chest, cradling you there like a teddy bear. You nestled in so softly and fell asleep, feeling safer than you ever had in your life.

[honey-dewey]

Honey-Dewey’s Masterlist

Pedro Pascal Boys:

Din Djarin:

All For The Hunt

True Trans Soul Rebel

To Serve the King

We Can’t all Have 20/20 Vision

Memories as Hard as Beskar

Worthless Comforts

The Race

Midnight Modern Love

The Bounty Forged in Blood

Across the Sands of Time and Tatooine

Marcus Moreno: 

When I’m Older and I’m Wiser

Christmas Miracle

That Time Marcus Almost Threw Hands With a Reporter

We Can’t all be Sunshine and Rainbows

Superheroes Don’t Take Sick Days 

Tattoo Troubles

Sound the Bugle Now

Loving You is a Losing Game

Kisses

Moreno Family Movie Night

Haunted House Horrors

Max Phillips: 

Sleep is for the Weak (and the Undead)

Scarborough Fair

A Room at the End of the World

Must be the Season of the Witch

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

Our Small Slice of Paradise

Finding the Right Voice

Two

The Unbearable Pain of Life Itself

Groceries

Game Night

Gold in the Summertime

Here Comes the Bride (and the Boys)

The Monster we Share

The Dog Days of Summer

Impromptu Dance Party 

The Domestic Dream

Loud and Proud (Includes Benny Miller)

The Great Birthday Bake-Off

I’ll Welcome my Sentence (Give to you my Penance)

Set-Up Soulmates

Medevac

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:

Pepper Spray

Somewhere That’s Green

Target Practice

Rodeo Romeo and Agent Juliet

Buckle Bunny

Five Car Pileup

Sway

Take me Home, Country Roads

Lightning in a Bottle

The Cowboy Conundrum

Manners Maketh Man

Ezra (Prospect):

Rain Boots and Puppy Paws

The Rapunzel Effect

The Story of how you Accidentally Married a Selkie

Bomb (of the Bath Variety)

The Rainbow Connection

Accidentally In Love

Little New Beginnings

Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey: 

Pink Bubblegum and Platform Boots

Comfort on the Dark Days

Little Leather Boots and Little Leather Boots Pt.2

Dye Day Disasters and Dye Day Disasters Pt.2

A Challenging Affair

Six Fragments for Persephone

Between Old Friends and New Lovers

Bookstores, Blood, and Black Eyeliner

All That Glitters

Javier Peña:

We all Cope Somehow

All the Write Places

Family Reunion

Handicapped Parking

Cigarettes and Skinned Knees

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Javier Peña

Maxwell Lord:

When the Queen Becomes the King

Dimple

Pumpkin Spice Problems

Not The Betting Type

Oberyn Martell:

The Prince’s Dogs

The Sunspear Mermaid

Light Me A New York Torch

When the Petals Fall

Pero Tovar: 

Glass Slippers

Siren Song

Zach Wellison:

Last Christmas

Dieter Bravo:

The Binding of my Heart

Bi Man Energy

Joel Miller: 

At the Turn of Autumn

Drabbles and Imagines:

Snow Day with the Boys

Valentine’s Day with the Boys

Migraine Drabbles

Beach/Ocean Imagines

Nickname Drabbles

Soulmate Imagines

Wisdom Teeth Imagines

Pregnancy Drabbles

Proposal Imagines

When the Boys think you’re the most attractive

The Beautiful Chaotic Headcanon List

Multi-Chapter Works:

Patient Zero (Din Djarin): -Complete-

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3 

Chapter 4

(Hold me Closer) Tiny Dancer (Jack Daniels):

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3 

Chapter 4 

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Road Trip to Nowhere (Frankie Morales):

Chapter One: Midnight Music

[athalien]

Okay so I just had a really broad idea. Picture it:

✨If anyone wants to take this and expand on it or anything, by all means go right ahead ✨

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader

You and Javi met in Colombia while working at the embassy. After all is said and done with Cali, you go back to Laredo together and have a son. Your kiddo is growing up around animals, learning and just being around those who love him and want the best for him.

All is well and dandy until you get a job offer in New York. After some convincing, discussion and other 😏😉, the Peña’s move to New York. Javi is having a tough time settling in. As time goes on your kiddo goes off to school. Your son is flourishing and is just so happy in New York. But obviously that doesn’t last for long.

You and Javi decide that you’re going to move back to Laredo to be closer to Chucho. At this point, your son is headed off to high school and is not happy about the move. He starts butting heads with Javi and getting into trouble. Next thing you know, he runs away. At the same time, you get kidnapped by a group that had wanted revenge on getting one of their own (was either killed or thrown into prison). So Javi now is looking for both his wife and son.

And his son is none other than….

Shane “Dio” Morrissey (could change his name, keep, or change to Peña idk) 😍😍

Okay but like imagine this dynamic like come on 💀💀😍 Yeah that’s an idea in case anyone wants to run with it 🥰

[theteddylupinexperience]

Alright guys, I’m trying to get to 500 followers!! So I’m gonna open requests for Pedro Pascal characters with the hopes I can get some reblogs and new followers/friends!

I will write for:

Din Djarin

Marcus Pike

Marcus Moreno

Frankie Morales

Dio Morrissey

Agent Whiskey

Maxwell Lord

Zach Wellison

Feel free to request other characters and I’ll see what I can do! I like to be interactive with my requesters so we can make something happen!

I will write:

Fluff

Smut (for the most part, it’ll depend on the specific request)

Angst

I’m also gonna reblog a couple prompt lists, so they’ll be under the “megs follower party” tag!

Happy requesting!!