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lifeofkaze · 6 months

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Something Wicked This Way Comes

A/N: This story is was written for @hp-12monthsofmagic October prompt. Happy Halloween. OCs featured belong to @whatwouldvalerydo (Victoria Summer... sorry for bothering her again), @the-al-chemist (Jim and Ethel Hexley), @endlessly-cursed (Nilüfer Sultan, in mention), @slytherindisaster (Gabriel Sapieha, Lysander Mercury) and @kc-and-co (Bradford Pendleton IV). Warning: serious Shakespeare blasphemy. I'm sorry.

The day had been overcast, and darkness come early over the Forbidden Forest. Swathes of mist rose from the moss and root covered ground, and the night was silent except for the rustling of fallen leaves, the soft sounds of the creatures that had ventured out under the cover of nightfall, and a resounding scraping sound as something heavy was dragged over a piece of stone, followed by a groan and the hasty shuffling of feet.

“How much further is it?”

“It can’t be very far, I daresay.”

“You said that ten minutes ago, Ethel. I swear I recognise this tree.”

“Hush, I believe I can see it from here. Quickly, now.”

Three figures stepped into an opening in the trees, in the middle of which the ground rose gently to a grass-covered mound. On it, bathed in the light of the full moon, six boulders of varying sizes had been erected to form a circle, in the middle of which a seventh stone lay on its side, forming what looked to be an altar.

It was there that the three girls, clad in skirts and blouses that marked them as students of the nearby Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, dragged the cauldron they had been pulling behind them. They were breathing heavily by the time they had made it to the top, and the faces of Ethel Hexley and Selene Fraser grew red as they hoisted the heavy metal pot on top of the horizontally lying stone.

Selene and Ethel had found the stone ring a couple of days ago while prowling the woods, and had been dying to return ever since. They had prepared diligently, but with the unsteadiness of the late October weather, it had taken them until the very last day of the month to make their way out into the Forbidden Forest again. They were chatting in hushed whispers amongst each other now, excitedly checking the contents of the bags slung around their shoulders.

Victoria, who had seen herself half-compelled, half-forced to accompany her dormmates, seemed less enthusiastic. She looked around uneasily, observing the shadows cast by the tall stone monuments. Wrapping her arms around herself to keep from shivering, she stepped closer to the stone altar.

“Are you finally going to tell me what this is all about?”

Ethel and Selene stopped whispering and shared a meaningful look.

“We have something special planned for tonight,” Selene said in a low voice.

“Something to mark the occasion,” Ethel agreed.

“We’ll do magic,” the two of them said in unison, the sable-coloured ferret that had appeared on Selene’s shoulder nodding his head as if in agreement.

Victoria looked between them sceptically. “But why come here? Why all that hustle? We could have just as well stayed at the castle.”

“Because, dearest Victoria,” Selene said and motioned at the stones surrounding them. “This place is special.”

“Most magical.”

“Of the utmost importance.”

Ethel paused, looking at Selene curiously. “It is?”

“It must be, must it not?” Selene shrugged. “Why endure all the hardships to set these stones up otherwise?”

“You must be right, of course.” Clapping her hands together, Ethel turned back to Victoria and pointed at the cauldron. “There is a spell that Selene and I have been wanting to attempt but Professor Sharp refuses to let us into the Potions classroom by ourselves after this most unfortunate incident with Carolyn Nyberg’s calming draught.”

“Which was not our fault, if I may say so.”

“Far from it.”

“The farthest.”

“And what did you need my help for?” Victoria asked patiently.

“See, the spell needs three wielders to succeed.”

“Three witches, to be precise.”

“And who would be more inclined, more perfectly suited to complete our trio than you?”

Victoria could think of a handful of people better suited; the matter of inclination was another one entirely but she chose to remain silent.

“Shall we begin then?”

Victoria was still at a loss for what was about to happen when she was directed to stand at the head of the stone, with Selene and Ethel facing each other on its side.

“You might want to take that,” Selene whispered to Victoria, producing a densely written note from the folds of her skirt. “We have it memorised.”

Victoria was just about to ask what she meant when Selene and Ethel began chanting, in grave, hushed voices that didn’t sound like them at all.

“Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. Harpier cries ‘Tis time, ‘tis time. Round about the cauldron go; In the poison’d entrails throw.”

They began moving to circle the stone altar with the now bubbling cauldron, underneath which Ethel had set fire.

“Toad that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Sweltere’d venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.”

Selene reached into her bag and pulled out a stoppered bottle which looked suspiciously like the ones Professor Sharp had on display behind his desk in the Potions classroom. She held it over the cauldron and shook its contents inside. The slimy green something that had fallen out sank to the bottom, and Selene and Ethel continued to sing, in a much louder, almost gleeful voice,

“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

“Hold on,” Victoria cried out. “Did you drag me out here to enact a play?”

“We never would even think of dragging you.”

“You walked quite by yourself.”

“And this is not any stupid spell from any stupid play we are putting to the test here. This is Macbeth!”

“By the greatest poet of all times.”

“The master of words.”

“The bard of bards.”

Wearily, Victoria held a hand up and the stream of chatter ceased. “And does Professor Sharp know you stole… borrowed one of his cauldrons and ingredients?”

Ethel and Selene exchanged a glance that had the sinking feeling in Victoria’s stomach intensify. She stifled the sigh lodged in her chest.

“Go on then.”

Breaking into smiles, Ethel began rummaging through her bag again, while Selene reached across the stone to squeeze Victoria’s hand. The chanting recommenced as Ethel produced a small parcel. In places, moisture had already seeped through the parchment, and Victoria could only briefly glimpse something reddish as its contents were tossed into the cauldron.

“Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s legs and owlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, ike a hell-broth boil and bubble.”

They continued in that fashion as ingredient after ingredient made its way into the cauldron. Selene and Ethel seemed to have acquired everything the recipe listed, adding newts’ eyes and lizards’ legs with more and more glee as the potion boiled up and began changing its colour, bathing the clearing in an eerily green glow.

“Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse…”

“You didn’t actually put someone’s liver in there, did you?” Victoria asked with wide eyes.

“No,” said Ethel and sounded almost regretful. “A piece of someone’s liver is surprisingly hard to come by.”

Victoria chose not to comment on this. “Then what did you put in just now?”

“We got some calf liver from the kitchens. Did you have any luck with the Tartar’s lips, Selly?”

“No,” sighed Selene, “and not with the nose of Turk either. I asked Nilüfer Sultan if she cared to help out but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

“How rude.”

“Don’t you think so?”

“So can we go back now if you don’t have everything to complete the spell?”

“Oh Victoria, don’t be silly,” Selene laughed. “A good witch knows how to adapt!”

With pinched fingers, she pulled a tissue from her pocket and let it float into the cauldron, topping it up with something that Victoria could only assume to be a handful of ground meat. She and Ethel took up singing again.

“Cool it with a baboon’s blood, Then the charm is firm and good.”

Ethel produced a slender vial from her now empty bag, unstoppered it and poured some red liquid into the cauldron. She and Selene exchanged excited looks and stepped forward to peer inside. Victoria did not. The eerie green glow from before had vanished, the colour of the potion they had brewed changing disconcertingly fast. The soft sound of the bubbling had given way to a deeper rumble, too, making the metal pot shake on the stone altar.

“What exactly did you brew there?”

“We brewed a potion most potent and most fantastical.”

“Dare I say, the potion of potions.”

“I gathered,” said Victoria, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear and watching the quivering cauldron from the corner of her eye. “But what does it do?”

Selene and Ethel stopped in their tracks.

“What do you mean, what does it do?”

“What are its effects? What’s going to happen now?” Victoria paled as a thought struck her. “I’m not going to drink it if that’s what you intended.”

“Well, in the play, Macbeth is supposed to see apparitions telling him of his fate now.”

“There is no Macbeth here, though, and no apparitions either.”

Ethel and Selene looked at each other shrugging, as if the thought had only now occurred to them. Feeling suddenly more stupid than possibly endangered, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I can’t believe you two,” she sternly told her friends. “Every time I think you can’t get anymore silly you top my expectations. Not only that you drag me away from the Halloween feast in the middle of the night to clamber over sticks and stones with a stolen - yes, Ethel, stolen - cauldron, you didn’t even spent a thought at the purpose of such a doing, or what might possibly come off it!”

“But we did!” Selene protested loudly. She was barely audible of the rumble of the potion. It splashed higher and higher, and glowed brighter and brighter, coming up as high as if someone had thrown a stone into water. “In the play —“

“‘Play’ being the operative word here,” Victoria scoffed. “Did you really think I would fancy seeing a severed head and a bloody baby telling me about my doom?” She snorted. “Pray, forgive me if I do decline.”

Selene looked torn between feeling sorry to have upset her friend and the righteous urge to prove Victoria wrong, while Ethel geared herself up to defend their endeavour. Before it could come to it, however, the light changed yet again. With a resounding boom, the cauldron shot up into the air and came crashing down with a loud bang, bouncing off one of the vertical stones as it did so.

Victoria and Ethel gasped as they jumped away from the glowing drops flying their way. Selene shrieked and pressed Alan to her chest with one hand, rubbing at a stain on her skirt with the other. The formerly peaceful, moonlit clearing was reduced to chaos, but when suddenly a low, agony-filled moan reached them from the blackness of the trees, the three girls and one ferret froze.

Alan gave a whimper, clambering up onto Selene’s shoulder. Selene held him and stroked his fur, but her excitedly glittering eyes were trained on the darkness ahead. She started towards it with a couple of determined steps, but Victoria caught her by her sleeve and pulled her back. Reluctantly, she turned and followed her fleeing friends, quick footsteps carrying them away from the stone circle and back towards the castle.

When they were gone, the moaning and groaning stopped. A rustle sounded in the underbrush beyond the clearing, and from the darkness four figures emerged, three of them grinning broadly, and one not so much, slowly trailing behind the others. They approached the clearing, standing in the middle of the exploded potion with three of them on one side, and the remaining on the other.

“Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen,” said Gabriel Sapieha, watching his vandalised surroundings with a look of profound satisfaction.

“Anytime, old chap.” Bradford Pendleton hooked the toe of his boot under the handle of the cauldron and pushed it back into a standing position. Curiously, he peered inside. “Who would have thought that my tempering with potion recipes would not result in failure for once?”

“Carolyn Nyberg would be proud of you.”

Brady chuckled. “I certainly hope not. Good aim, Mercury.”

“Thank you. Did you see their faces?” asked Lysander Mercury with a grin. He screwed up his face and it morphed into the features of Ethel Hexley, her eyes wide and her mouth rounded to a perfect circle as Ethel-Lysander waved his arms above his head in a hysterical gesture. He held his stomach as he laughed. “This was priceless, gentlemen, absolutely priceless.”

“If you say so,” Jim Hexley mumbled, watching as the hair on his friend’s head turned back to its original golden shade and he looked like himself again. “Are we quite done now? There are honeyed cakes at the feast. I’d be loath to miss them.”

“Not afraid of the dark, are we, old chap?”

Jim was spared a reply when something - or someone? - moved beyond the treeline. A low howl carried through the moonlit night toward them, swelling in volume and pitch. The boys in the clearing looked at each other uneasily. Jim swallowed.

“It hasn’t worked, though, has it? The potion?”

“Don’t be a fool, Hexley,” said Lysander, but he didn’t look away from where the howl had come from. “It is bound to be a wolf or something.”

“You sound like that wouldn't be a problem in itself.”

The howling took up again. The four boys looked up at the full moon hanging silvery above their heads and back at each other.

“I say we make for the castle,” Gabriel suggested in a light tone but his eyes never left the shadow of the trees. “My friends are eager to hear of our success, and we wouldn’t want Jim to miss his honeyed cakes, would we?”

They all agreed, and so left the clearing. One by one they stepped onto the path leading under the canopy of trees, which Jim could swear looked darker than it had upon their arrival. He was the last to follow, and he cast one look back at the stone circle across his shoulder. The cauldron still sat where it had fallen, now upright again, in a ring of glowing specks of potion, which shimmered ominously in the moonlight.

A shiver running down his spine, Jim turned away, hurrying his steps to catch up with his friends toward the warmth and safety of the brightly lit castle.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #selene fraser #12mom #twelve months of magic

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aquietlifesblog · 11 months

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The Cost of You (Dio x F!Reader)

"I… I've always wondered if…" For the first time, you seemed unsure of yourself. This is an area in which you had no experience. Thus, he allowed his kiss to be the answer. It was all the comfort you would ever need. OR

You let Dio have you for the very first time.

This is the first short story set in the 'Hungry Eyes' Universe. This can be read as a standalone but canonically happens during the first 'fate to black' scene featured in Chapter 1 of 'Hungry Eyes.' Read the Full Story on AO3

Note: This story takes place during Phantom Blood so period typical attitudes and understanding of sex apply.

Main Story | Masterlist |

"A woman's virtue is all she has, no man of good standing would wed a girl who's been sullied. There is nothing worse than a fallen woman, do you understand?"

"Yes."

You understood the threat men posed to your good standing, how their whims could steer the course of your life.

You understood when you were 12, and the city boys followed you around the marketplace shouting vulgar words. You understood when you were 16, and the young footman insisted you accompany him to some faraway fair alone. And you understood at age 20, when Lord Pendleton returned from his long trip abroad and marveled at how much you'd grown.

You understood.

And yet…and yet…

The press of Dio's lips against your own was heaven.

'He wants me,' your heart sang, 'just as much as I want him.'

Maybe even more.

You'd hardly gotten through the door before he kissed you again, and your coats and scarves were haphazardly discarded soon after. You felt as though you’d swoon, that you'd faint like some delicate lady as Dio led you to the bed.

He wanted you.

The walls of the inn were thin, so the muffled sounds of merry patrons and tired workers drifted up through the polished hardwood floor. It should have annoyed you, but the moment Dio pressed you back against the plush white mattress, the world around you fell away.

Everything but your sense of self-awareness.

Your heart and body ached for Dio, but you carried no illusions; he wanted you, and he might have even liked you, but he would never marry you; you may have carried Lord Pendleton's blood, but you were just a bastard, the illegitimate daughter of a maid.

A softer man, perhaps, would say it didn't matter and would promise to marry you anyway.

But Dio Brando was not a soft man. He was pragmatic and cunning. He didn't see the value in sentiment so any promise of marriage would only be a clever lie. He was a liar, a murderer, and a schemer. But despite his ways, he was more honest than anyone else, more honest than even he would believe.

He was a double-edged blade, sharp and unwieldy. But unlike other men, who hid their sharp edges beneath kind words and flowery gifts, Dio never hid himself from you. So when he pressed in close and wrapped his arms around you, you understood exactly what it meant:

He wanted you.

And you wanted him too.

"Dio," you hated the way you cried when he released you, needy and desperate like some pinchcock in a brothel.

"Hush now, dear, have patience." His eyes were so beautiful, like golden pools of honey as he undressed you with his rough hands. They slid from the thick of your hips to the swell of your breasts and back again, peeling away every layer with the grace of a swan.

‘Take this off,’ he told you, and ‘raise your hips,’ ‘your arms,’ ‘good girl.’ He stripped you of your skirts, your blouse, your chemise, and your stays—leaving everything behind as a pile on the floor.

You might have been embarrassed and ashamed of your naked body—women should never bare themselves to a man after all—but you liked the way Dio gazed upon you, like a beast seeking prey. You reached out your arm to hold him but he stopped you, pinning your wrist to the mattress instead.

"Allow me to admire you," he said, as though he wished to savor the moment, to savor you.

And for a moment it was quiet, with nothing but the low murmur of the downstairs patrons and the sound of whistling wind settling in around you. You allowed him to savor the moment; you savored it as well. And then you blinked, and something bloomed behind his golden gaze.

Was it passion? you wondered. Obsession? Greed? You wouldn't let yourself imagine love.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, and your heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, soft and low. The rough pads of his fingers brushed across your cheek as he spoke to you, and a wicked smirk graced that perfect face. "Don't act shy now. Isn't this what you wanted?" He leaned forward then, his breath warm and soft in your ear. "Come now, you've never held your tongue before."

"This is different," you trembled beneath his touch and he laughed at you, a soft chuckle ripe with glee. Dio had experience, you realized, he'd done this before. You briefly wondered if he engaged himself with women of good standing or if he hired women of the night.

"And so it is…tell me, dear, do you think of me at night?" He pressed down upon your wrists as he loomed above you, his larger form positioned at your side.

You didn't reply, so he took your silence as an answer.

"As I thought," he gloated as a deceptive smile softened his features. "Of course you do." His large hand settled against your leftmost breast. You gasped, unsure what to do as he squeezed and pinched your nipple. His movements were slow, torturously slow as he continued.

"Tell me what it is you dream about," he whispered, "tell me what sinful fantasies run rampant in your mind so that I may do more. Tell me what you think of as your hand slips beneath your bedsheets. I shan’t do more than this till you do."

You didn't have the words to describe what you wanted and he knew that. But the pleasure of his languid touch was a flame that threatened to consume you. He stopped for just a moment and you whined about it till he started on your other breast.

"What do you think about?" Your voice was weak and it wavered as you spoke.

"Me?” He slid his hand away from your breasts and you whimpered again in protest. But he brought his fingers to your cheek, turned your eat toward him, and leaned closer. His thumb traced the gentle curve of your lips and they parted for him.

You wanted him to kiss you.

“I dream of you using that mouth of yours for better things." He told you, slipping a finger partway into your wanting mouth, demonstrating exactly what it was he wanted to do.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes went wide with the shock before narrowing down into a glare that made him laugh once again.

You may have been inexperienced, but you understood the implication of his words. You've heard men laugh and joke about having women on their knees, of 'their pretty mouths wrapped around their throbbing cocks,' and the very thought made your lips curl in disgust.

He pulled his hand away so you couldn't bite him. So you slapped his hand and sat up, covering your breasts in a feeble attempt to preserve your sense of dignity.

"I don't want to be with you that way."

"Oh?" He tilted his head in amusement as you tried, and failed, to muster a proper glare. "Many women enjoy such things; it excites their…sensibilities." He placed a hand upon your thigh and moved lower, but you batted his hand away.

"It's disgusting." You turned your head toward the door, hoping to express discontent. How silly you must have looked, sitting naked beside him, playing the part of a modest dame.

"And yet here you are. Were you not writhing naked beneath me not a moment ago?" He tutted, speaking as though he knew your mind. "Some might say the same of you, my dear: an unwed woman quaking at the thighs, so ready and willing, eager to be relieved of her maidenhood."

"I-" you loathed admitting he was right. You wanted it, you wanted him so badly something warm and wet began to pool between your thighs.

But you turned to glare at him anyway.

You once found a book in Lord Pendleton’s study that contained detailed accounts of sexual intimacy. You were scandalized, shocked, yet the pictures of the couples never left your memory: The man was on top, nestled between the woman's thighs. Her back was arched, her lips parted and her breasts unbound.

You were told that sex was an ordeal, something for men to enjoy and women to endure. But the woman in the illustration seemed happy; you wanted to share that bliss with Dio, even as he spoke such devilish things.

"No words? No self-righteous condemnation or defense of your own pure desires? I'm waiting for an answer." He set his hand on the small of your back, and you shivered as he blazed a trail to the curve of your ass and back again. "Or could it be that you're far too enamored to think? Is that it? Have you become dumbfounded by my touch? By the thought of me as I claim your virginity for myself?"

Dio loved to hear himself speak, and though his lewd insinuations made your heart race, you could only take so much of it. And worse, you were placed into an awkward position, with Dio’s hulking figure set beside you, touching your body as he pleased, saying whatever the hell he wanted...and you hadn't a clue what to do.

"What more is there to be said?" You spoke out in frustration, "you know how I feel about you, the reason why we're here." Though you never managed to say it. You wouldn't let yourself love him, only want him.

"I do, in fact. And it brings me joy to know how you ache for me.” He held your face between his hands and leaned forward just so. “Had you told me sooner, you may have been my first as well.”

And with a kiss, he ensnared you again. Dio pressed you back against the bed, wedged a hand between your legs, and settled himself between them.

“You b-” He leaned over you then, caging your body between his massive arms.

“Call me what you will, but here we are, blissful agony so close at hand. If only you'd reveal to me your innermost desires I could fulfill your every fantasy. Or are you ashamed? Women should be pure and yet you yearn to be taken, yearn to feel my cock within you..."

"Must you be so lewd!"

"Lewd? Are your desires so pure then? Look at you, on your back for me, dripping with desire. Yet you refuse to tell me what it is you yearn for.” He scoffed. “At least I'm honest with my intentions.”

"I want you to kiss me!" You finally crack, embarrassed by your admission and the delirium of desire.

He said nothing for what felt like a long while, as though he was shocked by the mundanity of your words. Dio chuckled softly.

"Then perhaps your desires are more pure than mine."

Nonetheless, Dio indulged you. He kissed your lips, your neck, your shoulders, and your earlobe. Dio dragged his tongue along your throat, pulling pleasure from your pliable form in ways you never expected.

"Dio," you moaned his name, blindly pulling at the back of his shirt, desperate for something to hold on to as you beckoned him closer.

"Yes, love?” He teased, one large hand playing at the base of your breast. He held himself up with the other.

"Dio please," you murmured, again unsure what it was you were asking for. You tried to press your legs together to find relief from the throbbing need that gathered there, but he was still placed between them.

"Well, aren't you eager?" He teased, circling a thumb around your nipple once again. You gasped, startled by the sharp pleasure that spread throughout your body like lightning in the sky. "And yet so delicate.”

“Must you say such things?” You groaned. Never had he thought of you as delicate before. That isn't why he liked you.

"You speak as though you don't like it, yet your excitement is palpable," he licked his lips. "I can see it in your eyes, how anxious you are for me to fuck you."

"You’re incorrigible," you hiss.

"Shall I stop?" He threatened as his hungry lips moved lower, down to your collar, across your breasts.

"No, don't stop." Your entire being ached for him, leaving you in almost pained anticipation as he pressed a trail of kisses down your stomach. But Dio let out a hum of disapproval, so you decided to play to his ego. "I want you to have me."

"And how shall I have you?" He whispered.

'However you please,' you wanted to say, but you couldn't let him get too haughty. So 'quiet,' was your eager reply.

"You want me quiet then? Hm. Well, I suppose we share the same dream...allow me to show you the appeal." Your entire body trembled as he looked upon you from his lower position, and inhuman hunger sparked behind sulty golden eyes.

He moved lower still, angling his chest to the bed and hooking your legs around his shoulders.

You didn't understand, but your heart swelled in nervous anticipation.

He could see everything now, see how wet you were between the thighs, see how badly your body quivered. Would he be disgusted? Appalled? Think you no better than some back alley whore?

"My, my," He started, his voice deep, "aren't you pretty?"

"I-" You gasped then, unable to finish your sentence as he dragged his tongue across your most tender place and swirled that devil tongue around you. He hummed, seemingly delighted by your taste, and something in your body coiled.

You took hold of the blanket, unsure of what to do. You never considered this, never dreamed of this, never imagined this was something that could happen.

Was Dio a sexual deviant? Is that what was happening? (He was certainly depraved so you wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.) But if he was, what did that make you? You liked this, you liked the position Dio took below you, you liked the way his hot mouth and greedy tongue felt as he found a constant rhythm.

Frantic gasps and warbling moans spilled from your lips as he found his stride. It was like waves of pleasure, threatening to drag you out into an open sea of rapture. You had no idea how to meet this feeling—so you edged upward without thinking, as though to retreat.

"Do you not find this pleasurable?" He stopped. You looked down your body to meet an inquiring gaze and smooth pale skin flushed with heat.

"Do you? " He looked at you as though it was obvious, as though you asked him if the sky was blue.

"Would you like me to continue or not? I thought you wanted me quiet."

"I…I do. But-"

“Then stop your insistent squirming.” Squirming? You hadn’t realized you’d been squirming. You wanted to protest but Dio was quick to begin again. This time, he leveraged his size to root your body in place.

"Oh my," you gasped, your voice straining as he regained his stride. "My god," you cursed again, as that thing inside you, that coiling pressure, built and curled like a wave. You took hold of him then, sinking your fingers in his hair to pull him closer. Dio moaned, and the sweet sound of his pleasure blended with your own. Deviant or not, you liked what he was doing, and you didn't want him to stop. You begged him not to stop, not until that wave of pleasure crested and broke upon the shore.

Your breaths came faster and faster, and as he buried his tongue deep inside your needy cunt you found what it was you'd been chasing: the end.

You met your first orgasm with a breathy cry as your body shook with a pleasure you've never known. It was a storm, a flood, a flower blooming in the night. It was everything.

'Blissful agony' indeed.

You melted, your body nothing but a bundle of nerves swept by lust's tender embrace.

"My God," you took a single, quivering breath.

"Not quite, but you're free to think of me as such." Dio settled back on his haunches, his expression smug as he licked your essence from his lips.

You needed a moment to breathe, a moment to regain your sense of self before you responded, yet every part of you felt tender and warm.

"You're speaking again?" Was the only thing you thought to say to him, but in truth, you enjoyed the sound of his voice: low, sharp, and deep. But you liked the sound of his moans even more.

"So I am." He leaned forward and kissed you deeply, sharing the taste of your arousal. You squealed at that, but Dio pressed closer, pinning you down into the mattress as he ground his clothed erection against your belly. You weren't sure about the taste, but you pulled him closer anyway. The kiss you shared was long and sloppy.

"I find your desperation endearing." He smirked.

"I'm not-" You moaned again as he left a tender trail of kisses down your neck.

"You are." He countered, and Dio drew your skin between his lips, licking and sucking till he left a mark for you to find come morning. Again you were reduced to nothing but giddy nerves. "Look at you, always so dishonest. Perhaps you'll tell me this: are you ready for me?" He asked so sweetly it gave you butterflies. "Well?" He asked, rolling his hips against you once more. He was more than ready.

"I'm ready," You said, with more confidence than you felt. You wanted this, you did, but your heart thundered in your chest so hard, you felt the need to turn away as he sat back and peeled away his waistcoat and blouse, exposing the expanse of his chest to you.

Dio’s body was sculpted by the gods, lean yet toned with well-formed muscle. His trousers left him next, then his underclothes. By the time you managed to meet his gaze, Dio was looking at you, his thick cock stiff against his stomach.

"On most occasions," he stroked himself slowly, large fingers wrapped around his veiny shaft, "I would have asked you to return the favor, but you've managed to excite me all on your own. "

"Do you seek to flatter all your women?" You asked, blood rushing to your cheeks once again.

"And then some, my dear, but only those who deserve such praise." He stopped his stroking and stood above you, guiding you into a more favorable position, with your hips settled near the edge of the mattress.

He kneeled between your thighs and leaned forward till your eyes met, his throbbing member pressed against your belly.

Dio gazed upon you like a man possessed by greed, as though he wanted to own you, make you his. So you reached out to him, settling your hands against his shoulders, bracing yourself for what was to come as he kissed you.

"Relax," he told you, reaching between your bodies to line himself up against your entry. He rubbed the head against you, then the shaft, and you shivered.

It felt so good, being used to wet his cock, so good you might have finished from that alone had he not decided to push inside you.

"Dio-" you winced. It hurt, like a burning pressure deep inside. You whined and grunted as his slick length pushed you beyond a limit you never knew existed—and it wasn't even the whole of it.

"No, please," you cried out. Surely it was meant to be better than this.

"Hush now, you can take me." Dio's voice was strained as he eased himself inside of you, his breath hot and heavy as you took him inch by inch. He was holding back for you. "You want this to feel good?"

"Y-yes."

"Then relax."

You tried but with little success. But soon he was kissing you again, his lips leaving pleasurable sensations on your ear that made your entire body shudder.

"There, there, you've done well." He whispered once he could push no further. "And it seems I've drawn first blood. That's a good thing, I assure you." He mentioned, looking down at the place your bodies came together. "Shall I continue?"

'A woman's virtue is all she has, no man of good standing would wed a girl who's been sullied. There is nothing worse than a fallen woman, do you understand?'

You took a breath.

"Yes."

Dio gave you just a moment longer to adjust to the feeling of being full. And though the intensity of the pressure lessened, you still held him close as he began to move.

"You feel divine… just as a virgin should. " Dio praised, rearing back and forth at an easy pace. His girthy member dragged across the walls of your aching cunt, sending shocks of pain and pleasure through you.

"What a good girl you are, clinging to me for comfort, so—ugh—so demure as I fuck you open—" He let out a curse. Dio rolled his hips against you and you gasped at the sharp pleasure that claimed you as your clenched around him.

Then he did it again and again, driving himself deeper every time.

"I like that," you told him, urging him on with the sweetest cries: "Don't stop," "Do that again," and "Oh yes!"

"I prefer you this way." He goads you.

"And I—I preferred you as you were before." He laughed. Dio's skin was flushed red, his pupils large as he claimed you.

A symphony of grunts and moans echoed through your rented chamber. The walls were thin but that no longer seemed to matter as he speared himself into you. Your labored breaths rose and fell in pace with your lover's thrusting. The bed whined and shook beneath you, moving with the weight of your passion. And soon, pleasure came and went like the tides, ebbing the pain away. That same warm dreamy feeling returned to you, settling in the pit of your stomach and building much faster than before.

"You're so tight—so perfect. "

He grabbed you by the hips and brought you forward, helping you meet his every thrust.

He called your name.

"You were made for me weren't you?"

"Yes!"

"That's what you want, isn't it? For... me to take you every night?"

"Yes!"

"Then you're mine."

"Yes!"

You hardly registered the words he said, hardly realized how loud you moaned his name as he pulled that sweet, primordial pleasure from your body.

"Yes, yes, yes!"

Little by little, his strokes became rougher, quicker, and more demanding. Your eyes were shut, but you could feel him staring.

In and out, in and out...he set into a frenzied, desperate pace. Soon, Dio doubled over, pressing his face into the side of your neck as his cock pulsed and throbbed within you. He was close to the end.

in and out, in and out...Dio's breath grew ragged and he pushed inside you with a final shaky thrust. His groan was deep and throaty, and you could feel his body shake as he filled you with his seed.

A strange new pleasure bubbled up inside you, warming your body like a spring. You've never known this feeling, the feeling of being full.

And so you laid together in silence, nothing but heavy breaths and a sweaty pile of tangled limbs.

"How utterly careless of me," he broke the silence, lips still flush against your skin. "You simply felt so good, I could hardly control myself. You don't mind, do you? I'm sure nothing will come of it."

Nothing will come of it? Surely he wasn't referring to—

"I can't fall pregnant," you spoke without breath. "Not the very first time." Isn't that how it worked?

He didn't move. Dio remained in that position for a few moments longer before lifting off you. And when he pulled out, the excess of his finish spilled from you as well.

"It's as I said, nothing will come of it— don't look at me that way, as though you'll cry...there's a medicine woman in London, I will have something prepared to ensure you aren’t cursed with my child." He rolled his eyes.

Dio stood, snatched a folded sheet from the closet, and shook it out.

"Though you should thank me for the opportunity, I'll be sure to use a contraceptive next time."

“Next time? You’re... you're rather presumptuous, aren't you?” You tried to frown, tried to return to form, but you found you were far too happy.

“You still have much to learn; what better teacher to have than me?” He all but threw the sheet at your face and instructed you to change them, saying he refused to lay down in filth and that it was your mess anyway.

You scoffed but made a mental note of the sick satisfaction that shone in his eyes when he saw the red stain of blood amongst the other fluids.

"I pity the man you vow yourself to, having been denied such a gift."

You rolled your eyes and turned denying him the chance to see the blush that darkened the apples of your cheeks. You stripped the sheets in silence.

"I suppose it doesn't matter. You're free to be mine for as long as you wish to be." You were shocked to see Dio move the pillows, making it so you could place the new sheets on the bed.

You wanted to ask if that meant he was yours too, but you feared knowing the answer.

Dio took the sullied sheets without a word, tugging them from your grasp. You reached down for your chemise but he ushered you back to bed.

"Leave it. Sit down."

You didn't expect Dio to help you wipe your legs with the soiled sheet or be the type that wanted to hold you, but he did. After tossing the sheet into a corner, Dio stretched across the bed, one arm bent behind his head, the other resting at your side as you curled beneath the blanket.

Predictably, Dio began talking, speaking this time of ambition and all his future plans.

"Perhaps I'll let you be my secretary," he smirked, and it was your time to laugh then, letting out a deep and throaty chuckle. Because Dio didn’t see you as a girl who's been sullied, as a woman who committed a sin. No. When you looked into Dio’s eyes you saw desire there, a hunger with no end.

"I suppose I'll consider it." You told him, content to lay your head against his chest.

He would never marry you, you knew that, but he’d find a way to keep you at his side.

No matter what it cost you...

#dio brando #dio x reader #I just wanted to have an excuse to post now that I've put the whole main story on here

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