Akdbxianxysisby MY HEART

Akdbxianxysisby MY HEART 🥺💓💓

Somewhere an article read that if Dio survived long enough to know about Giorno he would have killed his mother and step father and taken Gio in, may I please get a small scenario where Dio takes Gio home and a Gio is terrified Dio’s wife won’t like him but she (kind bubbly caring and motherly) immediately throws her arms open and cries “MY BABY BOY!” And won’t stop kissing his face and steals her attention away from Dio whom becomes a pouty baby please and thank you sweetheart!

[ Oh my god please little Gio.  Little Gio and reader as Dio’s wife?  Little Gio with a better childhood?  That is all.  Yes please. ]

Giorno Giovanna did not - or perhaps he could not - remember much of his early life.  The farthest back his mind could reach was to a dark, rainy evening, one where thunder had rumbled so loud it shook the ground as though an earthquake and lightning struck the ground in dizzying patches of heat, bolting down throughout all of Italy as the winds of the Mediterranean pushed the storm onwards, deeper into the country, growing a mile a minute.  He’d been trying to sleep.  With his favorite plush animal, he’d pulled the covers up over his head, trying his hardest not to let the rash sounds overwhelm him but trembling nonetheless, eyes wide open, seeing nothing but black save for the occasional illumination that sparked from the clouds.  Nobody had come to him.  Not his stepfather, nor even his own mother.  As for his real father...well, he’d never met the man.  At least, not until that night, when, as the storm picked up, violently thrashing rain against the windows with such strength it was a wonder they didn’t shatter to pieces, an unfamiliar voice had resounded softly within his ear.  

“You’re alright now, Giorno.”  It was deep, commanding, but with a strange twinge of care just barely noticeable.  As he was still under the covers, now completely and absolutely terrified, clutching at the fabric with desperate hands and wishing he was anywhere else but there, all he could tell was that the man had moved to his bedside by the sound of increasing footfalls.  “Nothing will hurt you.  Not while I, your father, am here.”

And thus began his new life.  His mother and father had gotten lost from work on the way home that night, but Dio - Giorno’s father - had finally returned.  Now he resided with his father in a spacious, expensive home, straight in the middle of a prosperous portion of Naples.  Through their years together, Giorno had learned that his father had been a wealthy lawyer in both England and Japan.  The profession still provided for him now, albeit Giorno rarely ever heard his father talk about his work.  The boy couldn’t ever catch a glimpse of the cases Dio was supposed to be arguing on the television.  But he had learned quickly that although his father did love him, he was even more strict, sometimes seeming domineering or occasionally outright mean with scolding, should his son find himself in places he wasn’t supposed to venture, or performing activities deemed punishable.  Giorno loved Dio.  But he would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss his mother.  So, when one day, his father began speaking of a woman and her captivating beauty, he naturally grew curious.  He asked, over and over, what the woman was like, how his father had met her, how she looked, what she liked, how well the two of them knew one another.  Over time the questions became more and more incessant, with each query resulting in nothing but commands or reprimands from his father.  But equally over time Dio was home less and less.  Sometimes, he would be gone for hours, or a day.  Often he would vanish at night, while Giorno was asleep, but often strayed well into the afternoon.  Giorno grew worried.  What if another storm happened, like the one that had caught his first family, and his father was lost, too?  Who would take care of him then?  This fear only tripled as days turned to weeks.  But finally, upon asking one day, gathering up the courage for a scolding, after managing to catch his father, he had asked where the man was going.

Something about Dio’s nature appeared to have changed, or at least been altered to some degree.  Giorno had always known his father as a logical and focused man, but as of late he had begun to forget things, or seemingly get lost in his own thoughts.  All that Dio replied with was a dismissive, “Go back inside,” before his voice softened and something like - was that a smile? - formed on his lips.  “I’ve a present for you tomorrow.  Don’t make me postpone it.” 

The next day, the two of them spent all cloudy afternoon and evening going shopping.  Giorno felt it was a rather odd present, but nevertheless enjoyed the times where he’d point out something he liked and his father would purchase it for him.  Perhaps these were the gifts?  He was content with the idea that they were as the both of them made their way back to the car, especially as his father let him ride shotgun, but shortly after the car was in action this idea was debunked. 

“[Y/n] is waiting for us at home.  She really wanted to meet you today, Giorno.  After all, she is your new mother.”

Giorno’s eyes flew open in shock.  [Y/n]?  As in, [y/n] [l/n], the woman that his father had always talked about?  That [y/n]?  A-and wait, did he just say she was his new mom?  Despite how hard he bit it back, the question escaped him.  “My - my mom?”

Dio nodded, eyes never leaving the road.  “She only found out about you yesterday, but she said she couldn’t go any longer without meeting you.”

“Go any longer with what?”

“Oh, I mustn’t have told you.  [Y/n] and I are engaged, Giorno.”  He paused for a minute as he saw his son’s jaw drop from the corner of his eye, theorizing the dynamic his beloved son would have with his beloved [y/n].  You’d always been very caring, a kind and intelligent woman who kept herself well put-together, sensible and levelheaded, but the way that your eyes had grown wide as moons albeit far more beautiful, the gasp of surprise escaping your wide-opened mouth, staring in shock at him, breathless for a moment before you’d thrown your arms around him, the greatest smile Dio had ever seen emerging on your face, voice stuck somewhere between absolute surprise and absolute joy, barely able to speak as you begged your heart out to meet the young boy that Dio had just now informed was his son.  In every sense, you were completely overwhelmed.  You would have a little boy running around the house now.  It wasn’t just you and Dio destined to live as a couple, but you, Dio, and Giorno, a true family, undoubtedly inseparably.  In truth Dio hadn’t told you much about his son beyond his name and bits and pieces of his personality.  But now, waiting patiently at your fiancé's house, you nervously touched up your makeup, eyes darting between your face and the door, a smile on your face and a lightness in your chest. Your heart was racing like never before.

So was Giorno’s.  He wasn’t sure if he was afraid or excited, fearful or grateful, anticipating or anxious.  You’d always sounded so nice whenever his father had spoken of you.  But Giorno had never met you.  He wasn’t proper or well-mannered like his father, nor was he as quiet or interested in reading.  In truth he and his father didn’t have all too much in common.  And even then, even if the two of them were similar, would you like him then?  Maybe he would take up all of your time.  He would be a burden to you, getting in the way of everything, nothing but extra baggage in a previously perfect love, only eliciting every possible negative emotion from within your soul?  There wasn’t any way he could conceive it going positively.  He could hardly control himself under normal circumstances, but he knew he’d have much less a tighter grip on his childish behavior or energy when meeting you.  You would hate him.  He knew it.  He would ruin your love for his father.  He would -

“Go inside.”  Dio’s voice broke him into the clear from his thick, foggy thoughts.  Somehow Giorno found himself at the entrance to his house - right in front of the door you were behind - his father motioning to the unlocked door.  If he said something to his dad now, he would worsen everything, not just for you but for his dad, too.  And again that fearful thought crept up again.  If you were gone, and his father was gone, then who would be there for him?

He found himself being practically shoved through the doorway, a strong hand against his back as the two of them entered, only for Giorno to have perhaps a moment to center himself before losing his balance and sight in an instant, slender arms enveloping him.

He was adorable!  You understood Dio’s fear of keeping him from you - not all women were open to single fathers, but, of course, you weren’t one of them - but couldn’t believe the thought that he’d been hiding such a cute little treasure from you.  As you set him down from your spinning hug, you kneeled down to him, taking him in for the first time wholly, as he did the exact same to you.

You - you didn’t hate him?  You hadn’t screamed, or ran?  You had...that was, you’d...he’d gotten a hug from you?  As he regained his balance he found a pretty young woman smiling gleefully, kneeling down to his level and looking you over from head to toe, joy only blooming more and more on your face as you examined his features.  You had the cutest smile he’d ever seen, and as he returned one of his own, still in a stupor, you easily said the same for him.  Look at the way his perfect cheeks budged up as he grinned, eyelashes fanning the frame of his stunning green eyes, small little nose looking oh-so-boopable you could hardly contain your squee, completely and totally oblivious to your soon-to-be-husband, who stood in the doorway, mouth twitching into something like a frown of jealousy.  

You relapsed into hugging Giorno, who, this time, returned your embrace, and as you felt his little arms around your back, you cried, “My baby boy!  Oh, look at you, angel!”  Feeling him laugh lightly against you, you began to barrage his small forehead with kisses, eyes welling with tears that threatened to spill over.  He was precious.  So, so, so incredibly precious, and by god, you were so blessed to have him and Dio in your life.  Oh, how could he have hidden Giorno from you?!  “I love you so much, Giorno.”

“I - I love you too, Miss [y/n] - mom!”  And he did.  You radiated warmth and comfort, and gave the best hugs he’d ever received, and were way more pretty than his dad, and smiled way more often, and rained affection down upon him.  A giant grin emerged on his face.  “I’ll be good, I promise!”

A tear escaped you.  “Oh, Giorno...thank you…” you trailed off after wiping the wetness from your eyes, only to cast a glance up and find Dio, practically pouting, skulking in the corner, like a big baby in time-out, and you laughed, orienting your son so he could see his father.  “...But save some love for your dad, too!”  You leaned in close, face just besides Giorno’s, before continuing in a whisper, “He won’t ever say it, but I think he’s jealous of us.”  

Giorno giggled.  He loved you already, absolutely, completely and totally, and called out, “Dad!  Come get a hug from mom!  She gives the best hugs!”

And as Dio made his way into the picture, lifting his young son upon his arms and settling him atop his shoulder, taller than he could ever dream of, now up in the air of the adults, smiling just like you, the three of you were positive that nothing better existed than being there, together, by each other’s side - a family.

DIO Psychological Analysis + Relationship Headcanons

TW: Slightly NSFW

Dio Brando did not have a pleasant life. He was born in the more “underprivileged” parts of England, with insufficient money to keep him and his family at bay. To make matters worse, his father was a thief and an alcoholic who abused his wife and his son. Unfortunately, due to the conditions he was exposed to, Dio was affected in the worst ways possible; children who are abused adopt violent, aggressive, or criminal behavior or other behavioral problems, in addition to drug or alcohol abuse and high-risk sexual behavior. Despite Dio despising everything about his father, he mirrored a lot of his father’s foul behavior, even taking after his habit of drinking.

Dio’s hatred for his father is ignited by Dario’s abuse of his mother. During pregnancy, the bearer of the child shouldn’t be subjected to stressful events or a disorderly environment, and Dario Brando’s treatment was so horrid that poor Mrs. Brando lost her baby, Dio’s sibling. Dio was aware that his father was the reason that something like that happened, and while he watched his mother sob in misery at the loss of her child, he felt the hatred he had in his heart for his father to thrive, growing rapidly like moss in concrete cracks.

Simply hearing his father’s voice was enough to contort his face into a deep scowl, his eyebrows so furrowed that the crease between them remained permanent. Every single sign of his facial expression pointed towards hatred and disgust. He couldn’t believe that he shared blood with this individual.

Dio actually loved his mother; she was his safe haven while everyone else around him was a pack of ravenous wolves, ready to roll him in the dirt. The only redeeming quality about Dio is the fact that he loved his mother and cared for her; possibly the only humane thing he has ever done. The moment Dio’s mother passed on, he set it as a goal that he will blow out the candlelight of his sad excuse of a father’s soul, and proudly so.

“Devil that you were, you drove mother to an early grave. I’m glad you’re dead, may you burn for your sins. The riches that eluded your grasp? I will claim them in excess. You lacked the cunning to take what you wanted, but I’ll prevail! This Joestar shall be the key! Now burn!”

After being a doormat all his life, Dio was sick of submission. He didn’t crave equality, he wanted to ascend above everybody else; he wanted to be superior. Just equality wasn’t enough. Dio is a brat; if he wants something, he will get it. No matter what. He is ready to do anything to achieve his goals and make himself proud. Dio’s most identifiable characteristics are his unlimited ambition and his desire and love of power. He consistently scheming and aggressively domineering, and has recurrently shown a lack of ethics and empathy.

His smile is asymmetrical, a tell-tale sign for his arrogance and narcissism.

While addressing others, Dio points his index finger, figuratively beating the listener into submission.

Dio stands with his feet wide apart; a posture that displays dominance, telling you that he stands his ground. It’s used as a dominance signal by men because it highlights their genitals, giving them a gallant look. However, he sits with his legs crossed, indicating a feeling of confidence, superiority, and self-assurance.

Dio relishes being in a position of authority and has repeatedly stated how exhilarating it felt to be dominant. Dio never tolerated the idea of somebody surpassing his power or even being equal to him, and was infuriated and profoundly disturbed at the thought several times. If he were to court somebody, he would want them to shower him in praise and idolization. He would want them to know and believe it that he is better than them, that he has authority over them. It fills him with pride being the one in charge of everything that his partner does. He’ll tell you what to wear, how to do your makeup, when to reapply your lipstick – he’ll demand you to wear his favorite colors. With his power, you should expect a lot of frivolous gifts. Clothes custom made to your measurements; the finest satin and silk there is. He wants his pet to look their best, always.

He loves it when you worship Jonathan’s his body. Trail kisses from his neck all the way to his abdomen while he strokes your hair and coos out praise. Narcissistic as ever, he only ever refers to himself as Dio.

“You love Dio, your beloved master, don’t you, little one?”

“My, My… You look absolutely exquisite in the fabric that Dio has gotten you, my darling.”

He is extremely possessive of you. D’arby and Vanilla Ice are forbidden from ever touching you, and he’ll glare daggers at them if they stare for a prolonged period of time. One of the only human things he has done in the one-hundred years of being an immortal being is loving you. Possessively and intensely. Consider yourself extremely lucky that he has kept you alive for so long, as he only views women as objects for sex or food.

Just like when he was a young boy, Dio still has an affinity for reading, as he is found in the library of his mansion at times. He’ll keep you in his arms while he indulges in reading, but only if you caress and stroke his sides. He adores the contrast between your warm body and his cold, lifeless one.

He’ll firmly grip your thighs and slightly dig his nails into them. He loves marking you by scratching on your soft skin or leaving love bites where they can be seen by others. He likes to make the message very clear that you belong to him.

Dio displays his decent side to those who are good to him, so stay good to him. Stay submissive and never go against his word. He knows what’s best for you, and you should be well aware of his insight.

Often, he will ask you philosophical questions and humor himself in meaningful conversations with you. Of course, it’s partially because he wants to show you his educated and intellectual side; a testament that he is the scholar and you are the student. You report to him at all times. He feeds you with knowledge, and in return, you give him all that he expects from a good, obedient pet and follower – the worship he deserves.

He sports the fragrance of Egyptian musk – very pleasing, arousing warm, smoky notes with touches of dampened timber. Though, he is picky about the quality as cheap Egyptian musk tends to be rather pungent.

He frequently orders kindly asks you to light incense in your shared chamber.

Once you stroked his ear with the three beauty marks adorning it before kissing it and wrapping your plump lips around it, suckling gently. He lost control and ravaged you in bed. You weren’t able to walk for days or whimper anything besides his name.

Ghostface/Reader - Haunted House

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings/Description: NSFW, Gender-neutral Reader, Mostly a flimsy excuse for horror smut, Explicit Language, Mirrors, Blood/gore mention, Dub-con, Fearplay, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Possessiveness, Yandere, Overstimulation, Penetration (receiving), Name Calling/Degradation, DBD Ghostboi

-

The broom hits you in the chest with more force than necessary, and when you take it in hand you rub the sore spot it left behind while glaring quietly at your pissant of a boss.

He shoves a finger against your sternum, uncaring of the wince you let out in response, and huffs, “I better not see your sorry ass until the whole place is swept through twice, or I swear to god you’re fired. This is your very last chance.”

You want to roll your eyes, but you manage to keep yourself in check, “I’m sorry, Mr. Romano, I’m a little sick and I overslept-”

“Last chance,” he interrupts, eyes narrowing as he steps away, running a chubby hand through his thinning red hair, “Make sure you lock the place up before you leave. You can get your check after you return the keys.”

You frown at the back of his head as he retreats through the cornfield leading out to the first half of the attraction and the main staff lounge. You flip him off when he’s far enough, and make a few dumb faces while your at it. What a jerk. 

You sniff and rub your nose on your sleeve. God, you still can’t smell anything and your head is throbbing. You really shouldn’t even be out here. Yeah, you were late by a couple of hours, but it’s not like you wanted to get sick and leave your co-workers high and dry on one of the busiest weekends of the year.

Halloween is just around the corner, and in the scary attractions business, there’s really no better time to make money. And you really need the money.

With a sigh, you turn towards the haunted house and prepare for the worst.

It’s a two story building, and you have no idea how that asshole expects you to sweep it all by yourself on a normal day, let alone on the half-juiced battery you’re running on now, but you count your lucky stars that’s all he asked you to do instead of insisting on something dumber like resetting all the props, or whatever. At least with sweeping you can lie about it. Who’s really gonna know? The place is usually dark, anyway.

As you walk in, you’re immediately spooked by a Ghostface who set themselves up directly in front of the door, nearly blocking you from entering. You immediately assume it’s one of your co-workers trying to get you back for skipping out of them, and scoff quietly to yourself, “Ha-ha, very funny, dude…”

But of course, no one laughs, not even you.

Your co-worker tilts their head to the side, eyeing you casually, but before they can do so much as respond, you breeze past them with another wispy sigh. You don’t have time for stupid games. You just want to disappear in the back for a few hours and go home.

You don’t notice the way the Ghostface stares after you, or how their knife glints a little too brightly for a plastic prop.

Keep reading

Lonely Ghosts

SCP!GhiaccioxAFAB!Reader

sorry yall i had to write this good fucking luck with tramau after you read this its 8,860 words long 

also im gonna try and make the next few scp au ones i make connected to this storyline so again good fucking luck

WARNINGS: Graphic description of blood and gore, Non/Con, Non/Con Touching/N/S/F/W/

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The otherworld pt4

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I LIKE

BIG BOYS,

ITTY BITTY BOYS

MISSISSIPPI BOYS,

INNER CITY BOYS

I LIKE PRETTY BOYS WITH THE BOW TIE

GET YOUR NAILS DID, LET IT BLOW DRY

I LIKE A BIG BEARD

I LIKE A CLEAN FACE

I DON'T DISCRIMINATE,

COME GET A TAAAAAAAAAAASTE