would you be able to write part 1 Dio x fem reader nsfw hcs?? I love DIO as any would but I rarely see his part 1 version. Ignore this if you don't want to
‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧— Dio Brando (Phantom Blood) Dating/NSFW HC’s ‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧—
ദ്ദി •⩊• ) One, I will never ignore a proper request if my box is open, two, I love a dark Victorian romance. I actually shot myself in the foot bc I didn’t see that you only wanted NSFW and just went whole hog 🧍I hope this fits your request!
Dio Brando (as I will call P1! Dio) is unrealized in his evil, sadistic, but far more teasing, less cold than DIO. I would be happy to write a proper blurb with him x
Edit: note that there is period-typical misogyny, and Dio is FAR from an exemption to that.
⚰︎ Oh you poor, sweet, delicate thing, to be haplessly caught in the web that he’s made.
⚰︎ Naturally, if Jonathan is to have a promised bride, Dio must have one too— it will cement him as equal rank to Jonathan, as detestable as that is for the moment.
⚰︎ Surely not him. Not… that Dio, right? But it is. That lovely, rakish fellow who put a DOG into an incinerator? The ladies of your circle had heard from Erina, and all of them had feared the day that George Joestar, with well intended and poorly executed grace, would decide upon a person for him to marry.
⚰︎ Dio as well, initially regards you as merely means to get him closer to the image he seeks. A pretty little treat on his arm that he could disregard like a self watering plant. His first gifts before he even meets you are flowers, a bird in a golden cage that sings for you.
⚰︎ Upon seeing your wary visage however, draped in silk flowers and golden brocade for the first time, Dio feels a stirring in him. How disgusted you look by him. The fear. Even a betrayal of attraction in your blush, the way your hand trembles when he takes it and brushes his lips against your gloved hands. Yes, you’ll do. You will look wonderful next to him.
⚰︎ Courts you with the regular courtesy; not out of love, but it would be suspicious if he did not. And you hate how well they match your taste. Flowers. Exquisite jewelry. Gowns to wear to the events he flaunts you at— always in his colors, cut perfectly to highlight your most sought after features. It’s not enough to have you— Dio must make others JEALOUS he does by making you irresistible.
⚰︎ And by doing so, inviting unwanted attention that draws you further to him. Oh sweet thing, you were harassed? Tell him who, and he will take care of him. It’s not your fault you’re so beautiful. Come, feel safe in his arms.
⚰︎ Brushes his lips on you any moment he gets— chaste, yet pressed to the most sensitive parts of you, your neck, the inside of your wrist, the corner of your mouth.
⚰︎ Detestable, the way his touch feels so good. Greedy, with his hands on your waist, sliding up to brush against your breast, the supple flesh at his mercy under your thin bedclothes when he sneaks in your window.
⚰︎ Seats you beside him at night, when he has a brandy on the table and a book in his hand. His other arm is poised right behind you on the top of the couch— his fingers just barely brushing your shoulder. A reminder of his relative position over you.
⚰︎ If you break for him, a tear sliding down your cheek when you kiss his, there’s a flicker of humanity in those eyes— did his mother look at Dario like this?
⚰︎ And he holds your hand a bit kinder than usual; he speaks softer, if only for an hour.
⚰︎ He leaves you to your own devices, per the traditions of his time, but is sure to sneak off to see you.
⚰︎ Doing embroidery by lamplight, a sudden knock at your window makes you yelp. The realization of who it is does little to soothe you. And failing to greet your future husband… With trembling hands, you open the latch. Dio smiles at your obedience.
“I wanted to see you, my treasure. Are you faring well tonight? Perhaps practicing embroidery for that lovely wedding gown of yours…?”
⚰︎ Or, perhaps you are a truly wretched soul: a servant of the Joestar manor, merely going about your everyday, when that boy begins to find you curious.
⚰︎ Starting after George began to force the two to get along, you’d heard the adoptive son was… unruly, and sadistic. Memories of Danny only make you more uneasy as Dio begins to ask for you specifically, to do his laundry, to serve him in the morning, to run his errands.
⚰︎ Naturally he wants to put you in uncomfortable situations. He rouses without pajamas, smirking at your struggle to keep your eyes from grazing his toned chest. There’s sticky stains in the drawers he leaves on the carpet. You pick up books on romance in the middle of law textbooks. And yet, his mannerisms in front of the others is spotless, leading to your protests falling on deaf ears.
⚰︎ They insist, yes the young lord is disturbed to a degree, but he will be gone soon. Can’t you tolerate it until then?
⚰︎ Can you? His angelic looks, the name of the god he fancies himself as, and yet, he trails his fingers along your shoulder as a devil.
⚰︎ P1 Dio is much more teasing, lenient one may even say, than DIO.
⚰︎ If you attempted to escape his sights, he views it as a challenge— cat and mouse, yet he’s already hobbled you, whether it be with the soft croon of your name, or the way he tilts your chin up to make your eyes meet his.
⚰︎ Phantom Blood Dio will entertain you to a degree, because he is quite assured in his ability to control you. Whether by fang or the touch of his hand.
⚰︎ Whether sitting in your manor room, or curled in the servants’ quarters, praying that the night will pass peacefully, he will drop by to claim you, frenzied by the embrace of the stone mask, your so very mortal figure all the more alluring for him to possess.
⚰︎ When he smiles, fanged, eyes burning with desire, you know that the devil has come home to roost.
⚰︎ Yada yada 1800s, Dio absolutely whores you out. If anything, he lives for the taboo of it all.
⚰︎ Crassly he pushes your skirts up, bloomers down, his pointy tipped tongue scooping under your untouched clit to make you cry out in a terrorized pleasure when he brings you to what would be your marital home if you dare call it that.
⚰︎ Dio Brando is certainly more inclined to his own satisfaction, but he needs you to submit to him like a man needs water.
⚰︎ Gently drinks from you, just enough to get you woozy before he starts assaulting your cunt with his touch.
⚰︎ Two fingers is all he needs to make you cum. One crooked, rubbing a perfect insistent circle on your g-spot, the other going around your clit perfectly— if a bit meaner, pressing hard and murmuring filthy words that even a penny dreadful couldn’t conceive.
“Oh? Are you cumming already? What a sinful little lady you are. The heavens would disdain you.”
“Yes, yes, like that— whisper my name like a prayer. I am your god, aren’t I?”
“Filthy little thing, begging to be fucked and filled. What if I dragged your pathetic body into the streets of London, what would your little lady friends say when they see you?”
“Didn’t you hate me before? I remember. And yet, you seem to adore me now. Thank me for keeping you, won’t you?”
⚰︎ Loves hearing your shaky responses, angry, despondent, desperate. That’s it. You can’t escape.
⚰︎ So many bite marks, not all from drinking. Even if he keeps you to his chambers, away from the eyes of any ghouls, he adores those bruises and scratches declaring you as his.
⚰︎ Similar to Weather, large but not unworldly. Does not shave at all, may use a tiny bit less soap down there just to ensure you take in all of his musk when he pulls you in to suck his dick.
⚰︎ Fucks your throat meanly. You most likely will gag, slapping at his thighs with tears in your eyes as the hot, salty skin of his cock pushes past where it should be, it’s not until your nails sink in he finally draws back, making you cough all the while he looks horribly satisfied.
⚰︎ Bondage king. You are most likely chained by the ankle to his quarters in Windknight’s Lot, albeit with quite a long chain— provided the glass windows to the balcony are locked. After a period, he may permit you out there when he is able to supervise.
⚰︎ Adores your body tied down at his mercy, soft flesh in silk and heavy chain: you couldn’t hope to leave unmarked.
⚰︎ It’s the 1800s, respectfully, you’re not leaving without his seed dripping between your thighs, reddened cheeks from him slapping and kneading the soft skin. He will also pull out just halfway through orgasm to ensure your backside and front are covered in his cum, the warm liquid cooling against your skin and making you whimper.
⚰︎ Prefers shoving your head into the mattress and pillows, as it is deviant for the time, his hand woven into your tresses and tugging you up so his mouth meets your ear: “Don’t give up now, darling, that cute little cunt of yours is so tight for me…”
⚰︎ Into mirror sex. Your debauched figure at the mercy of him, immortal and untouchable, sends shivers of pleasure down his undead body.
⚰︎ Absolutely drags you to your knees in front of him before the minions. Jeering and laughing, they spur your tears as the man who once was your master, your fiance, unbuckles his weeping cock and presses the fat head against your lips.
⚰︎ You were doomed the moment you heard the name “Dio Brando”. However much, was up to how you bend to him, for he can coo and cradle a bird who willingly clips its wings.
