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cinnbar-bun · 2 months

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Good Fortune

Pairing: Dio Brando x GN!Reader

Summary: Dio is told he is lucky, often. He can't see how, considering how awful his life has been. But after meeting you, the child of George Joestar's old business partner and Jonathan's friend, perhaps his luck has turned for the better.

Even if he refuses to engage with such notions.

Rating: SFW but it's painful

Word Count: ~4.5k

AO3 Link: Here

Notes: Childhood-friends-to-lovers, Phantom Blood!Dio, babes this just angst, talks of death and dying, death, religious discussion, religious imagery, Dio unfortunately falling in love, Reader is MENA! but it's easy to ignore, foreshadowing for parts 3 and 6 (no spoilers though), yes I made this to be self indulgent because I wanted to torture Dio because omg what if he went to Cairo specifically because his partner mentioned it?

Dio stares in front of the full-length mirror in his room, adjusting his suit and tie. George explained he was having an old friend over tonight for supper, making a brief comment about how said friend was also bringing his child over. Dio noticed Jonathan’s eyes widen and the smile adorning his face- obviously, they were acquainted from before he ever arrived to the mansion.

He could only sneer as he thought of how obnoxious this ‘friend’ could possibly be. He couldn’t just antagonize them or Jonathan like he normally did, not when George would be around and watching. The thought of having to sit all night with that buffoon and a friend of his made him want to gag.

Alas, one must do what they have to do to obtain wealth and power. If he wanted the Joestar fortune, he had to play the game correctly. Assuring he was in good standing with George and this guest would only serve him well in the future.

And who knows, Dio chuckles to himself, maybe this ‘friend’ of Jonathan’s would slowly grow to hate the boy as well. He brushes his blond hair back, fixing it up properly. A loose strand makes him use his hand to push it back, and he smirks as he sees the three little birthmarks on his ear. He fixes his cufflinks and proceeds to walk out of the room, annoyed at having to put on airs, yet interested to see what will become of this dinner.

The minute he steps down the stairs, there is a knock at the door. Dio curiously looks from the staircase at the large front doors that George himself approaches. The first thing Dio can make out is a large man, around the same age as George- perhaps a few years older if the few strands of gray hair are anything to go off of. Before he can take a closer look, Jonathan races down the stairs, accidentally brushing shoulders with Dio.

“You damn-,” Dio snarls, but quickly shuts his mouth in case of anyone nearby. Jonathan didn’t seem to notice, instead jumping off the last few steps and running towards the guests. Jonathan yells out a name Dio doesn’t recognize, but the energetic boy is quickly put in his place with George’s hand on his shoulder.

“Jonathan! That is not how we greet our guests!” George scolds his son. Jonathan’s shoulder slink apologetically, like a beaten down puppy.

Dio despises that look more than anything. He makes an expression of disgust before he hears some chuckling.

“Oh, it’s alright, George, let the boy be! He’s young!” A jovial voice exclaims, and George sighs.

“I’m aware, my friend. I just can’t help but worry about what kind of man he will grow up to be,” George muses, tugging on Jonathan’s ears. Dio’s ears pick up that despite the negative words, George isn’t angry at Jonathan. Jonathan himself isn’t too offended either.

Hmph. Disgusting.

Dio figures that he’s seen enough and makes his appearance in front of the guests. The man is clearly foreign and has some semitic features that Dio hardly has ever seen in Britain. He’s finely dressed, wearing a fancy English suit and plenty of gold accessories. Dio finds himself fascinated by the many rings on the man’s fingers.

“My, my, and who could this be?” The man questions, a friendly smile on his face. Dio is frankly grossed out by the overly familiar tone the man takes, but bites his tongue back.

“This is my adopted son, Dio Brando,” George proudly states. The man extends his hand to Dio and shakes it with a firm grip.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brando,” he introduces himself then pats his child on their shoulder. “This is (Y/n), my only child. I assume you’re all the same age, so I think you’ll get along splendidly.”

Dio glances at you briefly as you bow your head politely to him. “It’s very nice to meet you, Dio.”

You look quite similar to your father, albeit, younger and more rounded, with the same features Dio finds rare on you. Your clothes are just as intricate as your father’s, clearly very expensive, making Dio curious about just how rich you and your father are.

Dio bows his head back to you. “It’s nice to meet you as well, (Y/n).”

Once the greetings are done, Jonathan goes up to you and excitedly beams at you. “(Y/n), did you bring anything for me this time?”

Dio is almost tempted to smack Jonathan on behalf of George, but you chuckle and nod, seemingly not minding. You glance over to make sure the older men are not looking and open your satchel, taking out a red box. Dio and Jonathan peek at it while you remove the cover. Inside the box are small, pink cubes covered in white sugar.

“Woah… what are these?” Jonathan asks.

“Lokum, oh, ah, ‘Turkish delights’,” you say in English. Jonathan is about to take one when you close the box and shake your head. Jonathan pouts after being denied, probably due to his love of sweets. “After dinner. Otherwise my father might lecture me.”

“Turkish delight, you say?” Dio repeats. “So, I assume you and your father must deal within the Middle East, correct?”

“Yes. He was born there, then moved here to start his business,” you pridefully comment, always happy to share how proud you are of your father’s hard work.

“Interesting…” Dio thinks. He frowns when he thinks of his own drunkard of a father, and the gross feeling that dwells within him bubbles upfront. How nice it must be to be happy for your father. How wonderful it must feel to be proud to share the same DNA as the man who had created you. He can’t point to a single thing he enjoyed about Dario, can’t even count anything nice the man has done on one hand except die.

Yet you look to hold your father in such high regard, perhaps even moreso than Jonathan does to George. Likewise, your father keeps smiling at you and flaunting your accomplishments to George, as if you were the best of the best. As if you were the most wonderful thing to have ever graced this earth.

Dio can’t help but feel disgusted and so, so jealous that you get a father who adores and spoils you like nothing else. You don’t even have a mother, but that doesn’t seem to damper you. Any hope he had of wanting to meet you is squashed by the hatred and rage he feels for your relationship.

----

You write letters often, Dio finds out. Now Dio knows why Jonathan is always so excited to check the mail. Soon after leaving the dinner party George held, Dio started getting letters addressed just to him from you.

Apparently, you were too stupid to understand that Dio wanted nothing to do with you and actively despised you like he did Jonathan. Or maybe you just didn’t care, since you began writing about anything and everything you were thinking of as if you were old acquaintances. Dio once snagged Jonathan’s letter from you to see if the tone was any different, but almost nothing was, except for mentions of a historical places Jonathan would like to possibly visit.

At first, he burned them away, not interested in whatever mindless rabble you had to discuss. He had no interest in history, none in studying, and absolutely none for whatever rich person you had just met on the road. Jonathan writes back plenty, but in order to save face, Dio writes back, only very rarely, pretending as if he actually cared.

It isn’t until his birthday that he sighs and relents, opening up the package you had sent. He rolls his eyes at the well wishes you give him (although he does wonder briefly how you knew his birthday) but finds two wrapped gifts in the box.

In the first one, thinner and longer, is a selection of the Turkish delights you had brought over the first time you met. He actually hadn’t bothered trying it then, mostly due to his disgust with you and the fact Jonathan looked like he was enjoying himself when he took a bite.

He snorts and rolls his eyes, about ready to throw away the sweets when the smell of the powdered sugar and rosewater drifts into his nose. It is… certainly unique, he thinks. Nothing like what he’s ever smelled before. He places the box on his desk again and glares at it, as if the treats were personally ruining his day. He folds his arms and stares at it some more.

He should throw this out. Never look at this and just write a quick ‘thank you’ so you felt appreciated or something. But still… the powdered sugar dusting the outside, the sweet, sweet smell of it- it was far too tempting. He clicked his tongue and picked one up, groaning at the way the sugar dusted his fingers and part of his suit.

“Disgusting,” he mumbles before he takes a large bite of it. The taste is nothing like what he’s ever had before, and he nearly chokes at it. He coughs then swallows, taken aback by the taste. It’s… it’s quite delicious. He’s never tried something so wonderfully sweet, something that overtakes the senses quite like this. Roses make an interesting flavor profile, he muses.

Wait, no, what is he thinking, getting excited over this stupid gift from an annoyance like you? He closes the box of sweets then opens the last box. Inside is a ring, similar to the one your father wore at the dinner party. The ring had a large amber stone, and Dio twirls it in his hands, fascinated with how the light catches the stone.

This must have cost a fortune. He chuckles as he picks up the note to go alongside the ring.

My father and I thought a ring would be a good gift for you. He says that it’s always wise to have something nice on your hand. It can bring you good luck and make you stand out. I hope you like the color- he was going to get you the blue one, but this one reminded me of your eyes. I thought you might appreciate it more.

Happy birthday, Dio.

You sign your name at the bottom and Dio finds himself biting his lip harshly. It’s really frustrating how you always naively try to think of him like this. Who said he wanted your damn sweets? Who said he wanted your rings? Or your good luck? Who said he wanted anything you had?

He shakes his head and gazes at the ring again. He hates himself, so why would you dare get something that is meant to be of him? This body that he despises, how could you covet it in a god damn ring meant for him?

You bother and enrage him like nothing else. He always thought this was because of your friendship with Jonathan, but this just cemented that the hate he felt for you was entirely just because of who you were. Whereas Jonathan was an obstacle he needed to rid of for the Joestar inheritance, you were someone who actively treated him like a damn charity case.

You must have thought you were so clever and kind gifting these things to him, weren’t you?

Fine. If you wanted to be a useful idiot for him, then he would make sure to get the most use out of you. The violent rage he had boiled over into interest and excitement. He grabbed his paper and pen, quickly writing a letter back to you.

This time, however, he made sure to be more expressive than he normally would have. He laughed loudly as he signed the paper in a hurry and sealed it within an envelope. This could be quite enjoyable.

Imagine him- getting rid of Jonathan and using you for his own gain! Not just one- but two means of success and fortune! Oh, you were a delightful idiot through and through, he thought as he threw aside the lid to the dessert and popped in another cube.

----

The years were kind to Dio. Ever since his plan to use you came to fruition, he slowly refined it to working his way up to being able to ask for your hand in marriage. He spent years cleaning up his act, faking his way to the top, even joining the rugby team and a university to study law. He was practically the perfect man- attractive, intelligent, resourceful, strong- why, anyone would be lucky to have him as a son-in-law and husband.

The interest he deemed to show you in his teens made you reciprocate his affections. You began writing longer letters for him than you did to Jonathan. You would stop by and visit, not even for Jonathan, but just for Dio now. You two would have long discussions in the gardens, on the road, and in the library of the Joestar mansion. Your father practically adored Dio as a son, always patting his shoulder and joking with him more casually. He was an admirable prize, one that was practically handing himself on a silver platter for you.

Except, somewhere along the line, like a damn fool, Dio made a mistake in his normally thorough plans. Somewhere, somehow- you managed to make Dio enjoy your presence. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

When he first started trying to get your attention, he often would do so at the expense of Jonathan. He just liked pissing his brother off while he would drag you away as if he had something urgent to say to you privately. He would aggrandize and embellish his stories, making himself seem far more noble and special than Jonathan was. Of course, Jonathan, ignorant as may be at times, wasn’t stupid. He knew right away Dio was up to no good and tried to warn you, subtly take you away, or even insert himself into the times when Dio pulled you aside.

Nothing worked, however. You either didn’t notice or didn’t care, always brushing aside the warnings and believing in Dio wholeheartedly. It was cute- misguided, frankly- but cute, nonetheless. Especially after Dio did his best to mend his relationship with Jonathan, Jonathan found he had no leg to stand on and tried to leave the past behind him, wishing you two only the best.

Good, thought Dio. He was tired of having to play nice with his Jonathan, and now that Jonathan had no chance of stealing you away from him, Dio could enact his plan still. And that’s what it should have stayed.

But fate was far more strange than Dio realized. One day, he would find himself listening to you more. While before, it was just to keep track of your stories to use later, it now became an interesting part of his day. Another day, he would naturally seek out your hand to hold- not as a means to make you swoon and desire him, but just for his own comfort. And on another, god, he couldn’t believe this- he found himself imagining what a ‘home’ could be like for you and him.

You somehow managed to imprint yourself in his brain, filling his head with stupid, ridiculous, and childish thoughts. He found the hushed whispers he spoke in your ear to become less and less false as time went on. He found the way your cheeks would warm up made him grin and not smirk. He found your voice pleasant and the words you’d say become clearer. He found his body recoiling when any other man, especially Jonathan, tried to talk to you.

You ruined him. You ruined everything. How dare you? He could afford plenty of things now, yet he continued to wear that damn amber ring on his finger. You adored his eyes, and for once, he found himself almost agreeing whenever he looked in the mirror before he would take you on a date.

You. Damn. Worm.

You must be the devil. You must be some evil snake charming him and destroying him inside and out. He couldn’t accept the fact that he, Dio Brando, was actually enjoying your presence in his life.

You spoke of the trips you took with your father for business. You loved almost all your destinations, bringing back souvenirs and charming photos for him. But one city always stood out to him.

Cairo.

“Oh, yes, the city is wonderful there,” you mused dreamily. “There are these beautiful pyramids-”

You point at the photos of these pyramids and he’s become interested in these monumental landmarks. Jonathan made a mention of them once, he thinks.

“And what are these pyramids for, exactly? Why would someone just build these with stone in the middle of a desert of all places?” Dio raises a brow. Although he’s impressed, he finds himself questioning the worth of these structures. You chuckle, a sound he’s grown to enjoy.

“The ancient Egyptians lived here, Dio. They built these pyramids and all sorts of buildings for their final resting place,” you smile.

“Tch, how pretentious,” he teases. “You sound far too happy talking about a place of death.”

“Perhaps, but you know, death isn’t so bad.” Now this makes him pause.

“And what do you mean by that?” Dio questions. You shrug.

“Well, for them, they believed that when you died, your heart would be judged and you could go to the Field of Reeds, Aaru.”

“Similar to western dogma,” Dio mumbles. He never had such faith in things like ‘God’ or a ‘heaven’.

If God really existed, he would have helped Dio’s mother. He would’ve made Dario a better father. Would have made Dio feel safe.

But there is no such thing, no such tangible way to prove that God did exist. And it seems these ancient humans were just as foolish as the people of today. They would continue to believe in something that did not exist and did not love them.

“Yes, you could say that,” you nod. “But I think the idea is nice overall. Don’t you think?” “I don’t understand what could be considered ‘nice’ about it,” he frowns.

“I like to think of it as a second chance. Another way to live, having gone through the struggles of your first life. You’d know more and appreciate more.”

You don’t notice the way his face tenses as he grits his teeth. Even if there was a god, in no way shape or form was Dio ever going to be in ‘heaven’. He could push that aside right away. He was the son of Dario, and that certainly already meant he was sentenced to eternal damnation.

“I see,” is all he says. You snap your fingers as you then show a picture of a gorgeous terracotta mansion.

“I almost forgot to show you! We got to stay in this beautiful place. Oh, it was just wonderful inside. I think you’d love it. There was a lovely garden there, too. I wish I could take you there, I’d show you everything Cairo has to offer! And you could finally taste the dates when they’re ripe and the festivals that go on there!”

“I would love nothing more,” he replies, suddenly thinking of how hot Cairo must feel. He wondered how you would smile if the festivals were going on. How lovely the night must be with you in it under the lamps and palm trees of Egypt. “Maybe we can go for our honeymoon?” You lightly smack his shoulders and laugh. “Don’t tease me like that! Otherwise I might make you propose tomorrow!”

“I could have that arranged,” Dio leans forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“Let’s focus on our studies first,” you chuckle. “I really would love to marry, but alas, our fathers have decided to make us wait longer.”

“Alas,” he joins in, the thought of finally being yours and you being his making his heart swell.

Only you could offer Dio this momentary salvation. This brief respite of peace despite the anger and hatred he held in his heart. This was a feeling only reserved for you, the you who practically forced your presence and love onto him.

It almost didn’t even feel like a part of his plan to gain the two fortunes, even though he would force himself to remember this was just business. Ah, but you made it so easy to enjoy life. You made him forget for a moment he was not the son of Dario Brando. You could made him forget he was a maniacal bastard orphan, instead making him feel he was Dio. A new Dio, a Dio no one could have thought ever existed, even him. A Dio that was just a man, for once.

He would become Dio, the man who would pick you fresh roses. Dio, the man who carried you over puddles on the street. Dio, who enjoyed drinking tea with you. Dio, who loved when you slipped into your mother tongue. Dio, who held you when you cried. Dio, the man who would get curious whenever you would remark joyfully about his birth marks, saying he must have been lucky.

The only thing “lucky” about him was you. That’s all he could genuinely point out in his life as “lucky” and “good”.

So slowly, and foolishly, the only thing he could do was simply let you in deeper into his heart, letting you carve your initials into him and marking him as your helpless servant.

----

It had now been two months since your passing. Dio returned to the mansion in a drunken stupor, finding he was unfortunately still aware.

Aware of how empty he was. How angry he was. How much he despised everything.

Why the hell was Jonathan crying over you? Jonathan knew nothing about you. Jonathan didn’t love you or care for you anywhere close that Dio did.

That rich boy who had everything handed to him and given to him just for existing knew nothing of the pain Dio was feeling.

He didn’t deserve to cry over you. Didn’t deserve to feel a god damn thing about you.

Dio was the one supposed to marry you- not him! So Jonathan should have left and let him grieve properly over the fact his betrothed was now gone.

Was this God’s way of punishing him? Huh? Was this his sick joke? A reminder to him that no matter he did, he was never meant to be happy?

Was that all his life was? One meaningless, empty joke for God to amuse himself with?

Dio couldn’t help but burn every letter he had kept from you over the years. He didn’t need them. With a bottle of alcohol in his hand and a few letters in the other, he held them over the fireplace and let them burn to ash and dust. He didn’t care. Couldn’t care less.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing could ever bring him satisfaction. Nothing could ever bring him joy or peace. He was obviously not meant to have it.

Even your own father tried to console Dio, having thought of him like a son, but Dio couldn’t bother. Your father promised to give employment and a portion his fortune to Dio still, already securing his future wealth.

But that wasn’t enough. It was not enough. For every ounce of love you tried to give Dio, he felt a thousand times more angry at the world he lived in.

He didn’t need this world. He didn’t want any of this. He couldn’t live like this.

He couldn’t die like you- oh god, no, he couldn’t. He’d most certainly be punished and made to repent for his sins.

As he burned the last of your letters, he downed the rest of the alcohol, burning his throat. He could not muster anymore tears, not after he laid the roses down on your tombstone. Dio Brando was dead and buried alongside you.

All that was left of him was his hatred.

So close to having everything he wanted, and now it was all gone.

He was so close to even giving up his earlier desires to torture Jonathan, instead content to protect your father’s business and travel with you after he finished getting his degree. But now he had nothing to hope for.

Drunk as he may have been, he found himself thinking like he did when he was a young boy.

Yes… I’ll just kill them all. I’ll ruin them all. I should’ve stuck with that plan originally.

He cursed himself between hiccups, cursing himself for daring to let you in, letting himself feel safe around you, letting himself be vulnerable and able to be torn to shreds by you.

It was his fault. His fault for all of this. If he hadn’t acted a fool and loved you, he could’ve had Jonathan gone, perhaps disowned or dying in a ditch somewhere. He could’ve been the richest, prodigal son of Britain. He would’ve been powerful then. He wouldn’t have had to have you extinguish every ounce of life within him.

He was no longer human. He was now Dio. Only Dio.

Dio, who hated everything. Dio, who had no love for anything but himself. Dio, who wanted everything erased. Dio, who had become exactly like the man he despised most.

He hated it all.

In his anger, he picked up the pictures you had given him and threw them all in the fire. He hacked out his lungs when the smoke billowed from them and surrounded him. A few photos began to melt before his very eyes, but for some reason, one of them caught his eye.

The terracotta, three story mansion from your trip in Cairo. The one you wanted to take him to. The one you two dreamed about going on your honeymoon for. The one you joked about possibly buying and redesigning to make it your home forever.

He gasped and grabbed the photo, blowing out the flame quickly and saving a majority of the picture. The corner was burned off, but the picture still remained. He held it to his chest and let out a shaky breath.

Cairo was something he could never give up. Cairo, the only place that would allow him to be with you. Cairo, the place where you two promised to go.

You promised.

So why…? Why? Why, why, why?

But Cairo would have to wait. He had something he needed to do first. Once he could get rid of Jonathan and George, and everything else that would stand in his way, then he could go there.

I will find you again in Cairo, my (Y/n)...

#x reader #reader insert #jojo #jjba x reader #jjba imagines #jjba #dio brando #dio brando x reader #phantom blood dio x reader #dio x reader

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lvoryingrid · 2 months

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Obsession

Dio Brando x fem!Reader

Summary: Despite Dio's cold demeanor, (Y/n) senses a deeper charm within him, leading to a profound connection between them. Dio's possessiveness intensifies, prompting him to make a bold move to secure (Y/n)'s affections solely for himself.

Warning: 🔞 minors do not read/interact: contains 18+ content, smut/erotica,

(Y/n) was a curious and kind-hearted soul, always eager to explore the world around her. Living next door to the affluent Joestar family and often found herself drawn to their estate, as she was always hanging out with her best friend Jonathan, intrigued by the mystery that surrounded them.

Little did she know, her life was about to change forever when a new member joined the Joestar household. His name was Dio Brando, a young man of striking charisma and enigmatic demeanor. From the moment they met, (Y/n) sensed there was more to Dio than met the eye. He was cold and distant, yet there was an underlying charm that she couldn't ignore.

"Ah, so you're the new addition to the Joestar family," (Y/n) said, her voice tinged with curiosity as she eyed Dio Brando, who stood before her with an air of confidence. Dio smirked, his gaze piercing. "Indeed, I am Dio Brando," he replied smoothly, extending his hand in greeting. "I'm (Y/n)" she greets with a smile.

Their first encounter was marked by Dio's icy demeanor, yet beneath the surface, (Y/n) sensed a flicker of something more. Despite his cold exterior, Dio displayed an unexpected chivalry, a stark contrast to Jonathan's earnest but somewhat clumsy attempts at courtship.

"Jonathan, are you serious?" she asked incredulously, her brow furrowing in concern. "Yes, I'm afraid so," Jonathan replied earnestly, his voice tinged with worry. "Dio's trouble, I've seen it myself." (Y/n) shook her head, unable to reconcile Jonathan's words with her image of Dio. "But he's always so charming, such a gentleman." "I know he seems that way on the surface," Jonathan admitted, "but there's more to him than meets the eye. Trust me on this."

But as time flowed onward, (Y/n) found herself increasingly drawn to Dio, his enigmatic past and intricate character weaving an irresistible spell around her. She couldn't help but notice the flickers of vulnerability concealed beneath his confident demeanor, glimpses of a tender spirit longing for companionship

In Dio's presence, she discovered a profound connection, a silent dialogue of unspoken emotions that bound them together in an invisible thread of understanding and empathy. Each passing moment deepened their bond, illuminating the profound depths of their intertwined souls and igniting a flame of longing for the warmth of mutual connection.

"Intriguing, isn't it?" Dio remarked one evening, his gaze fixed on the stars as they sprawled across the midnight canvas. "The way the universe dances in perfect harmony, yet harbors secrets untold." (Y/n) nodded in silent agreement, feeling a stirring within her at his words. "It's as though each star holds a story, waiting to be discovered," she mused, her eyes reflecting the shimmering constellations above.

In Dio's presence, she discovered a profound connection, a silent dialogue of unspoken emotions that bound them together in an invisible thread of understanding and empathy. "Do you ever feel as though you're searching for something beyond what this world offers?" Dio's voice broke the tranquil silence, his tone carrying a weight of introspection. "Yes," (Y/n) confessed softly, her heart opening up to him in ways she hadn't anticipated. "It's as if there's a missing piece, waiting to be found."

Their interactions grew more frequent, (Y/n) discovering layers of complexity within Dio's guarded heart. She became his confidant, his solace in moments of turmoil. And in return, Dio found himself opening up to her in ways he never thought possible, the walls around his heart slowly crumbling under her gentle touch.

Under her tender guidance, the fortress guarding his heart began to erode, allowing the warmth of her presence to seep into the cracks and thaw the icy barriers. Amongst their shared moments, Dio found solace in reading literature to her, his rich voice painting vivid tapestries of emotion, while their evening strolls became a sanctuary where unspoken words wove a silent symphony of understanding and affection.

"You know," Dio began one evening, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "I've never felt this ease with anyone before." (Y/n) smiled, her eyes reflecting the warmth of their connection. "I'm glad you feel that way. You can always count on me, Dio."

"I never thought I'd trust someone as much as I trust you," Dio confessed one night, his gaze softening as he looked into hers. "I never knew you had such a way with words," (Y/n) whispered, her eyes closing as she immersed herself in the world Dio's voice created.

Their evening strolls became a sanctuary where unspoken words wove a silent symphony of understanding and affection. "I don't need to say anything," Dio mused as they walked hand in hand, "because you understand me without a single word spoken." (Y/n) squeezed his hand gently, a silent affirmation of their bond.

Amidst the burgeoning connection between them, hidden tensions stirred like restless shadows in the depths. Jonathan's steadfast devotion to (Y/n) clashed with Dio's burgeoning affection, igniting a tempestuous undercurrent that threatened to rupture their delicate harmony. Dio's possessive nature emerged like a smoldering ember, his longing for (Y/n)'s exclusive attention casting a dark shadow over their blossoming bond.

With each passing moment spent in Jonathan's presence, Dio's jealousy flared like a tempest, his desire to claim (Y/n) for himself surging fiercely against the backdrop of their shared intimacy. The rift between them widened, fueled by Dio's silent yearning to possess (Y/n)'s heart entirely, a desire that simmered with an intensity that threatened to engulf them all.

In the quiet confines of their shared sanctuary, Dio finally let the weight of his jealousy spill forth in whispered confession. "Do you not see, (Y/n)?" he murmured, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability that belied his usual bravado. "Every moment you spend with him, I feel as though I'm losing you. It gnaws at me, this ache of longing to have you all to myself."

(Y/n)'s gaze softened, understanding the turmoil within Dio's heart. "Dio, you know I care for you deeply," they replied gently, reaching out to touch his trembling hand. "But Jonathan is my friend too. We can find a way to navigate this together, without letting jealousy consume us."

Dio's stormy eyes met theirs, a tumult of conflicting emotions swirling within their depths. "I fear I cannot bear to share you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yet I cannot bear to lose you either."

Years had passed by, and as they both reached the threshold of adulthood at the age of eighteen, Dio's possessive nature had only grown more pronounced, and the thought of anyone else sharing (Y/n)'s affections became unbearable. He watched her like a hawk, always making sure that she was within his sight, his touch. The idea that she could be happy with anyone else was a constant ache in his heart, a thorn that refused to be extracted.

The day finally came when Dio could no longer contain his emotions. He had been planning this for months, carefully orchestrating every detail to ensure that it would be perfect. He waited until Jonathan was away in the mansion's library, knowing that he would have her full attention. Then, he invited (Y/n) to take a walk with him along the secluded riverbank, a place they had visited many times before.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the rolling hills and lush greenery. Dio led (Y/n) to a small clearing hidden behind a grove of trees, his heart racing with anticipation. As they stepped into the secluded spot, he turned to face her, his eyes burning with desire. "You are everything to me, (Y/n)," he murmured, taking her delicate hand in his own. "My heart beats only for you."

Her heart skipped a beat as he took her hand, gazing into her eyes with such intensity that she felt herself melting beneath his gaze. "Dio…" she breathed, her voice barely audible over the sound of the gentle river nearby. She couldn't help but feel a thrill course through her veins at his words, at the way he looked at her as if she were the only person in the world.

As he leaned forward, his lips mere inches from hers, she closed her eyes, anticipating the touch of his lips against hers. But instead, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pressing her against his chest. His kiss was rough, demanding, claiming her mouth as his own. She gasped into his mouth, her hands fisting in his shirt as she clung to him.

The feel of his strong body against hers, the taste of him, sent a shiver through her spine. She moaned into his kiss, arching her back slightly, wanting more. As if sensing her desire, he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, exploring every inch of her mouth. She could feel the hardness of his arousal pressed against her stomach, and she ached to feel it inside her.

When at last he pulled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes locked on hers, searching for some sign of how she felt. She looked up at him, her own chest heaving, her lips swollen from his kiss. "Dio… I've always been yours," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "You know that." His possessive nature had always been a part of him, but it was also what made her feel so safe and loved. And now, as they stood there together in the dimming light, she knew that nothing would ever change that.

Their lips met again, hungrily seeking one another in a fierce, passionate kiss. His tongue danced with hers, exploring every corner of her mouth, as his hands slid down to cup her bottom, lifting her up against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, their hips grinding together in perfect rhythm.

Her back arched as he walked them backwards, pressing her against the rough bark of a tree. She moaned into his kiss, feeling dizzy with desire. His free hand trailed up her spine, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her shift, tweaking her nipple roughly. She gasped into his mouth, her body tensing in response.

His other hand fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, pushing them through their holes with urgency. Once her breasts were freed, he groaned into her neck, taking one in his mouth, sucking hard on her nipple. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair, her hips bucking against him in need. He released her breast only to untie the sash that held up her skirts, letting the silk fall to the ground in a pool at their feet.

With one swift movement, he pushed her skirt up, baring her to him. She was already wet, aching for him. He growled in approval, pressing his hips against her, feeling her slick heat against the hard length of his arousal. Grasping her hips, he lifted her up, guiding her down onto him in one smooth motion. She cried out, her body tensing around him as she felt him filling her.

He thrust into her, their bodies slamming together in a frenzy of need. His hands gripped her shoulders, his face contorted with passion. She wrapped her legs tight around him, meeting his thrusts with her own, their hips moving in perfect rhythm. The world around them disappeared, consumed by the fierce, primal desire that bound them together.

Their kisses grew wilder, more urgent, as their bodies moved together in a dance that felt as ancient and familiar as breathing. The air grew thick with the sounds of their moans, their gasps, their pleas for more. She could feel the muscles in his back flexing beneath her fingers as he held her up, holding her close, claiming her as his own.

As their bodies reached the peak of pleasure, she felt a sharp, intense pain shoot through her core. His hips stuttered, and then he let out a hoarse cry as he emptied himself inside her. She arched her back, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, her whole body shuddering with release.

For a moment, they were both still, their breath coming in ragged gasps as they tried to catch their bearings. Then he lowered her to the ground, his weight pressing her down into the soft moss. His lips found hers once more, this time gentle and tender. "My love," he murmured against her lips. "You are mine, and I am yours, always." And as they lay there, tangled together in the aftermath of their passion, she knew that there was nowhere else in the world she would rather be.

Masterlist

#jjba #jjba part 1 #dio brando #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba dio #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo no kimyoy na bouken Dio #dio x reader #dio smut #jjba x reader #jjba x you

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

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𝓈𝓊𝑔𝒶𝓇 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒 ⎹ 𝓓.𝓑.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ jojo’s bizarre adventure / kinktober 2022 / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ dio brando ( phantom blood ) x captive!reader ( f! )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ dark fic, noncon, fear kink, graphic depictions of death and gore, chasing, manhandling, threats against reader, degradation, virgin!reader, oral sex ( f!receiving ), size kink, blackout mention, Dio is very mean

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 2.7k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions.

you could hear his laugh— evil and taunting— booming through the abysmal corridor behind you, and the hissing and snarling of his undead army that was also in hot pursuit. “Where are you running off to, hmm?” he calls, and the baritone surrounds you. he’s not everywhere, you try to tell yourself, it’s just the echoes. “I won’t let you leave the castle grounds. However, by all means, go on and try, get your sweet blood pumping!” another morbid laugh like distant thunder, and you take the first new hallway that opens up to the left. “I can smell it from here, that lovely smell will lead me straight to you.”

you’d made a mistake coming here so late at night, with a boy you hardly even knew. you’d kissed him, and let him loosen your corset, even though you felt uneasy. even though you’d never kissed a boy before. even though the whole night felt wrong. then, the laughter started. from somewhere deep in the blackest shadows, a predator stalked, watched, and found amusement in your innocent fumbling and uncertainty, and stepped into the light. he named himself Dio right before he ripped the boy in half right in front of you. some of his blood was still seeping into the cotton of your dress. what he hadn’t seen, however, was the jagged stone you’d hidden underneath your skirt, clutching it tight in the palm of your fragile hand. so, whenever he scooped you into his arms, and leaned in to taunt you, or perhaps even kiss you, you’d swung the rock as hard as you could, making direct contact with his sculpted cheekbone, breaking the skin. it wasn’t much, but it was enough for his grip to loosen enough so that you could slip through his arms and run.

you were panting, your lungs burning in your chest, your eyes puffy and sore from crying. but one glance over your shoulder yielded the confirmation; the reason you couldn’t stop— hundreds of ghouls had crammed themselves into the hallway, some staggering after you, others chasing you on all fours. you turn your eyes forward again, ignoring the hem of your skirt that catches on a dilapidated and unrecognizable statue, ripping a slit all the way up to your thigh, and both hands hit a sturdy door when you hit the dead end of the corridor, slamming yourself into it with a pathetic huff. luckily, the door, like the rest of the manor, is old and crumbling, and it whines as it flies open and you stumble over the threshold, only to let out a blood curdling scream.

inches from your feet is a pile of innards, and what could’ve been a corpse at one time, but has since been devoured, piece by piece, by the monsters squatting down over it. they both look up and growl, clumps of half-eaten human flying from their bloodied mouths as you stumble back. you wanted to collapse, but didn’t have the time.

countless pairs of gruesome hands snatched at you, dragging you into a horde of them. you wailed and fought against them, half expecting to be shredded, too. you weren’t, however you could hear — and feel — your dress tearing as they snatched at you. your neckline ripped, one sleeve hanging loosely against your arm and the other chunk of fabric lost in the sea of rotting bodies as they tossed you back and forth. your throat is hoarse from screaming when you’re finally spit out the opposite end of the crowd, and flung right into Dio’s arms, which welcome you with a tight grip on one wrist and the other palm splayed over your midriff, pulling your back to his solid frame. “No!” you cry out, but he’s already twisting your wrist.

“Now, now,” he croons against your neck, wringing your wrist until the blood-stained stone falls from your grip and clatters against the floor, “listen to that heart thumping.” you felt sick to your stomach when you realized he could hear it. “Fragile, little thing is about to beat right out of your chest.” you squirm, trying desperately to pull away from him, but his lips have sought out the cuts on your palm, turning it over to expose them to his mouth. first, they graze over the wounds, and you wince. “You’re about as nervous and dangerous as a newborn kitten.” his tongue slithers out to prod at the scratches, urging more blood to the surface, and he smirks as he tastes it. his lips then travel, parted and dragging over your skin, up your arm, ignoring the sleeve that hangs in tatters, and he presses you back into him tighter when he reaches your throat. “So soft— I could rip your jugular out with one bite.”

“P—please—“ you rasp, the tips of his fangs tingling against your hypersensitive flesh.

“Such a meek, little plea,” he teases, the expanse of his massive hand careening upwards over your breast to rest against your heartbeat, his digit tips just barely touching your chin, “what are you begging for, kitten?” he allows their sharpness to scrape, and you whimper, melting against him and hoping to become so small he couldn’t reach you. it was impossible, as his face was buried in your neck already, but you tried nonetheless.

“I—I don’t want to die…”

he laughs at this, as does his minions, and you feel a burning humiliation creep upon your cheeks. “No? Are you afraid of dying?” he asks, feigning sympathy, and his fingers take hold of your face. he angles it towards him, and your tear-filled gems look up at his stone-cold countenance. you nod, the scratch on his cheek was healing as you watched, and your mountainous captor stared down at you. the crown of your head is pressed against his chest; you were just so damn small compared to him. “Are you afraid of me?” another nod, and his crimson eyes flicker over your petrified expression. you couldn’t catch your breath— your lips parted and hot puffs of air wheezing out, your chest rising and falling beneath the stretched fabric of what was left of your neckline. you avoided looking into his eyes, but you could tell he was drinking in every inch of you. “Smart decision for a very stupid girl.” he replies, dipping his head towards you. you start to pull away, recoil, but his grip on your cheeks hold you in place. that devious tongue of his skirts along his lower lip, tasting your broken breath as it lands on his tiers. then, his carmine eyes flicker up to yours, and his smile widens, “Tell me that you fear me.”

you couldn’t even think— you were staring, wide eyed and horrified into two, piercing rubies. he wanted to hear how scared you were, he wanted you to say it out loud, but there was a lump so big and dry in your throat that you didn’t think you could force the words past it.

“Come now, don’t keep me waiting.”

you gasp when he squeezes your cheeks together hard, forcing your lower lip to poke out in a childish pout, and you acquiesce to his will. “I’m afraid,” you whisper, each syllable hard pressed to slip into the air, “I’m— I’m afraid of you—“

Dio chortles, closing what was left of a gap between he and you, and his tongue ran along the shape of your lips. you flinch, and seal them tight, but he’d already gotten his taste. “Mm…” he moans, more to himself, and runs his tastebuds over his own mouth, and then flicks at his fangs. “I do love the taste of fear on those pretty lips, like sugar…” he croons and places a sloppy kiss on your mouth. regardless of how you wanted to reject it, he forces your lips to fit against his with a hard push, opening them wide so that he may shove his tongue inside. you squeal in protest against his mouth, wriggling and desperate to get free, but his strength too greatly outweighed your own. your own tongue bunches up in resistance, trying to push his out of your mouth, but you start to gag on it. you considered biting down on his, biting it off even, but ultimately decided against it.

you were in no position to fight back anymore.

when he’s drank his fill of your kiss, he pulls back, the lips that have battered your own dripping and shiny with your saliva and stretched over deadly fangs, and you pant, twisting in his grip. he watches you for a moment, amused. “I would wager you taste just as sweet everywhere, don’t you?” you shook your head, cheeks on fire and eyes closed tightly, pulling in the opposite direction, but his hand drops, grabbing the neckline of your dress in a powerful fist and tearing it with a swift yank. the force is enough to arch your back, the fabric screaming, and then your breasts are bare and exposed, rising with heavy, nervous breaths.

there’s a whooping from the horde of undead as they crowd closer around, licking and biting at the air as if they can taste your fear in it, and you recoil away from them, pushing you deeper into Dio’s wicked embrace, which wasn’t ideal, either.

“Look at this,” he purrs, sharp nails dragging over your otherwise unmarked skin. they trace his name, slowly, as he takes in your visage, “skin so fresh and supple.” his eyes twinkle, pure malevolence behind them as the tip of his nail traces your nipple, watching it harden as he does. “I could think of a hundred different ways to paint you crimson, my dear.” you shake your head, whimpering in soft protest, and he cocks his head to the side, “What? You don’t think red would look so pretty on you? The color of roses?” he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of your tender breast and squeezing until you mewl and sag into the rough treatment, “Timid, little thing, aren’t you? Frightened so easily.” his head dips, tongue dragging along your nipple, and when you gasped, your thighs clamping together to stop the feeling of his teasing flooding your core, he reads you like an open book. “I think you like this.” you start to shake your head yet again, but his hand has already abandoned your chest, hiking your skirt up to feel between your thighs. they were slick with sweat and… something else. your desire and shame. “You’re dripping, kitten. Do you enjoy my teasing that much?”

your thighs press harder into each other, but his fingers work to pry them apart, slipping in between to feel your bare sex. you choke back a gasp, your only free hand grasping at his wrist trying to pull it from your core as you jerk against his rubbing, but it was as effective as an ant trying to push a thumb away before it’s crushed beneath the force. “N—no…” but, much to your own dismay, you were soaking his fingertips and he was howling with amusement.

“Well, now, isn’t this cunt just so sensitive— I’ve hardly even touched you, and you’re all jitters already. Could I have caught a little virgin in my web?” humiliation floods your eyes, and you close them tight, turning your face away from him and digging your chin into your shoulder. he coos, leaning close enough for you to feel the chill or his skin against your cheek, and the ghastly drag of his lips as he spoke, “Good. The first and only cock you’ll ever wrap around will be Dio’s, your new master.”

“…I want to wake up…” you beg under your breath. surely, this had to be a terrible nightmare. so you kept biting down on your lip and repeating it. “I want… to wake up…”

“Eh?” he asks, grinning, “Stupid thing thinks she’s dreaming.” a wave of vicious cackling rolls through the corridor, and you shudder. a moment later, you feel him shifting, dropping to his knees in front of you. cautiously, you crack one eyelid and look down to see him ripping what was left of your skirt aside. there’s a flurry of cotton before it all settles on the floor. you shiver, stumbling back. Dio releases your wrist and grasps one ankle, hiking it up on to his shoulder. it threw your balance completely off; even on his knees, the man before you was still monstrous, and you were forced to stand on the tip toes of the opposite foot to stay upright. “Let’s find out if fear makes your cunt as sweet as your lips.”

both eyes opened wide, but you had no time to react before he was smashing his face against your sex, the bridge of his nose creating a solid cradle for your aching clit, and the thick muscle hiding in his mouth wiggled between your netherlips, gathering the taste of your essence on to his tastebuds. he growled, and the sound vibrated against you, sending every nerve into overdrive. both your hands dig into his golden locks, pulling hard to attempt to force his head back, but the scratching and scrambling didn’t phase him one bit. he didn’t budge, instead he laughed, then his words were slurred against you. “Don’t be so ungrateful,” his eyes glint in the dusky moonlight pouring through a broken window, and it seems so shameful and sinful to look down your naked torso at him. you could see the muscles in your own tummy contract when he nuzzled against your clit, and you clamped one hand over your mouth to keep your moans quiet. crying out for how good it felt would only make this all too real— and would give him the satisfaction of knowing that you couldn’t control it. “Your new god is on his knees for you, lapping at your trembling pussy. You should be singing my praises.” none too gently, he snags your clit with his teeth, creating a vice around it and rolling his tongue over the nub.

you bleat, and your knees buckle— the sole leg holding you up giving out. but Dio doesn’t let you crumble. with one hand fleeing, he wraps a massive fist around your throat to hold you in place, the furious muscles of his gargantuan arm hard and bulging against your torso. the pressure is enough to startle you, even though he doesn’t squeeze. you imagine the beast of a man could break your neck with little effort. this new grip occupies your mind, and your hands try to wrap themselves around his wrist instead, but it’s even too big for your fingertips to meet.

“You are a pathetic little kitty cat, aren’t you?” he teases, suckling on your clit until you see stars behind your eyelids, and your toes are curling, “You can’t even stand up on your own anymore. Just a few, easy flicks of my tongue and you’re putty in my hands. Makes my cock hard watching you lose this fight, knowing you know you’re fucked.”

you don’t want him to be right, but when he punctuates his statement by licking a fat stripe between your netherlips, you cry out, and your nails dig into his tough flesh. “Please!! Ha— have mercy…”

“Go on,” he urges, “cry for mercy. Scream for me. It won’t change a thing. You belong to me, now, and I’m going to break you in every way possible, starting with tongue fucking never ending orgasms out of your delicate, little body until it gives out. You’ll black out, and wake up to my big cock stretching you open.”

#dio brando #dio brando x reader #dio brando x you #Dio brando smut #jojo #jojo x reader #jojo x you #jojo smut #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba x you #jjba smut #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure x you #jojo’s bizarre adventure smut #kinktober 2022

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mantis-dea · 5 months

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Alternate Modern Day Dio Headcanon

Modern-day Dio is an alternate Dio Brando I canon and will be writing future short fics for.

From a young age, Dio’s life has been nothing but tragic. When he was just six years old, his mother succumbed to an unknown illness, leaving him only fading memories of her love and warmth.

Dio’s father, on the other hand, was a deeply troubled and abusive man. Dario was an alcoholic who would turn on his son in a fit of rage. For years, Dio endured both physical and emotional abuse at the hands of his dastardly father, making each day a living nightmare for Dio.

When Dio was just 12 years old, his father met a timely end, sparing him from further torment. With no other family to turn to, Dio found himself thrusted into the challenging world of the foster care system. Since that fateful day, he has moved from one foster home to another.

His tragic life played a significant role in shaping him into the teenager he was.

He held contempt for many of the foster homes he was in, thus he often spent his time in the streets. He possessed a natural talent for pickpocketing, a skill he honed out of necessity from when his father would refuse to feed him.

Dio refused to go to food banks. On her deathbed, his mother asked to care of Dario. Despite his abusive nature, Dio, out of pride and an unfulfilled sense of loyalty, couldn’t bring himself to report his father or accept charity from others.

Instead, he turned to pickpocketing tourists to provide for both him and his father.

Dio, like the suave man he is, used his charm and persuasion to get what he wanted from others.

Modern Dio is a true chaotic neutral:

If he witnesses a crime in progress, he will take advantage of the situation.

He’ll grab a few items from the store, before innocently going up to the store owner, “oh, what happened.”

Pickpocketing is also how he met his S/O.

S/o is a comic book artist. At the young age of 16, her talent in the comic book industry began to garner recognition from both fans and professionals.

When she turned 18, she wanted to expand her storyline outside of the United States. Impulsively deciding where her next series will take place, she purchased a passport and booked a one-way plane ticket to London.

As she strolled through the streets of London, lost in the architecture of the old buildings, she suddenly found herself colliding with a stranger. Dio, ever the charismatic figure, flashed his signature charming smile and gave a polite apology. He extended a hand to help her up and then continued his way.

She chuckled at his actions; though she had never travelled out of the United States, she was not a clueless tourist.

Intrigued by Dio’s skill and charm, she decided to trail him, gradually recognizing him as a captivating subject of her art.

She followed Dio through the streets of London, analyzing his every move, her smile growing every second; she found her muse that would open a new chapter in her series.

Dio led her to an alley with a dead-end, interrogating her.

“Why on earth do you keep following me?” his brows furrow, feigning worry, “Did you perhaps drop something when I bumped into you? I am so sorry.”

She walks up to him with a giant smile on her face, “I want you to be my muse.”

“…Pardon?”

After an explanation of what she does and offering generous compensation, Dio – though cautious – agrees to be your tour guide.

As the two of you spend more time together, Dio and s/o’s soon build a genuine friendship. Their shared experiences with childhood issues draw them closer. And that friendship soon turns into love.

Dio wrestles with these newfound emotions, attempting to bury them with casual encounters with other women. However, the more he tries to deny them, the more conflicted he becomes.

On an abnormally cold winter week, Dio became severely ill, and his s/o rushed him to the hospital. Throughout his stay, s/o was a constant presence. When she could not be by his bedside, she would anxiously wait in the waiting room.

As Dio battled his illness, his love grew stronger, and he finally confesses the day he is out of the hospital.

Personality of S/O

Modern Dio’s significant other embodies the essence of a laid-back workaholic. Her passion for her comics is similar to the famous mangaka Rohan Kishibe’s; in amidst a new series, she sacrifices sleep and eating, much to Dio’s chagrin.

There was an occasion when Dio discovered her unconscious in her office and rushed her to the ER; he discovered she did not eat, drink, or sleep for three days. Ever since then, Dio has become a vigilant guardian. When he cannot be present, he asks his associate, Pucci, to keep a watchful eye on her.

Her nurturing nature shines through in her relationship with Dio, doting on him to an extreme degree. When she is not engrossed in work, she prepares dinner and offers soothing massages to Dio.

Her selflessness towards her family is particularly evident when she and Dio have kids; she puts their own needs and desires first. She will even stop working on her writing if her children need assistance.

While she is nurturing to those dear to her, strangers will most likely never get the privilege to witness this side completely.

For example, when she noticed a local business getting robbed, she never called the police. Instead, she allowed the robbery to unfold and whipped out her sketchbook to capture the moment; it's not like it's her problem anyways.

Modern-Day Dio Dating

Dio is unmistakably possessive of his s/o. I mean, it’s Dio. What do you expect? He despises the idea of sharing what he considers rightfully his.

Why must you go to Amsterdam?” he inquires, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“It’s essential to experience different cultures in person. One of the characters I am working on…”

He scoffs, interrupting her, “Not alone. Either I go with you, or…” He suddenly picks her up, carrying her to the bedroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I make it so you can’t.”

As he approaches his early twenties, and his relationship with his significant other deepens as the years passed by, his chaotic personality mellows.

His unwavering loyalty to his partner becomes intertwined with his pride, and thus the idea of cheating is out of the question for this version of Dio.

Dio also reluctantly befriends his s/o’s acquaintances. For instance:

“Johnny Joestar, is it? Why on earth do you dress like a character from a ghastly 1970s cowboy film?”

Johnny, unfazed, remarks, “You’re British. I don’t need to say more.”

His high libido and strong desire to have children with his s/o led to the decision to start a family at a young age. They welcomed their first child when s/o was 21, and their second arrived a year later.

Dio marries s/o when they discover they are expecting their first kid.

Both s/o and Dio have dual citizenships in the UK and US. They opted to purchase a home in the UK – with s/o’s money – since Dio aspires to attend law school there.

All-in-all, this Dio is a much tamer version who actually gets along with the Joestar family and finds happiness in a loving relationship with is s/o.

#jjba x reader #dio brando x reader #dio x reader

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