#ycqmb

You awake with a start to another unfamiliar ceiling and for a hopeful moment you wonder if you had ended up in a hospital, and it is only when you hear the familiar drawl of your fiancé that you are plunged back into the cold reality that you woke in. 

“ Ah , you are finally awake. Don’t pretend to be asleep, I can hear your heart racing from here.” Shirtless and glowing like an apparition, Dio stands before you basking in your venomous gaze as you lifted yourself to sit up from the large, crimson bed. He keenly picks up that your eyes flicker down to his adonis belt, and for a moment your chest beats irregularly and the air tastes sweeter before the intimate scent of your fear floods his intuitive nose. The blond had momentarily forgotten that while it was widely encouraged for young men to indulge in their devilish appetites, worthy socialites such as yourself had been largely sheltered from the opposite sex. You were blossoming at the mere sight of skin, and he could tell from your guilty expression that sinful thoughts had already begun to tug at you. Put plainly, Dio had buried himself many times in the thighs of prostitutes, but that thrill paled in comparison to finally claiming the maidenhead he vied so long for. 

As you push yourself up, you notice you are still dressed in the crimson velvet gown, however the stains that you had accumulated from your roll in the dirt had now vanished, along with any smudge that hid underneath your fingernails. Hesitantly you glance over to him, feeling something coil deep in your belly dangerously akin to desire . You had always admired your betrothed, his romantic and handsome appearance and even while thrust into the plot of a penny dreadful, you could not deny the pull of many years of pining still had on you. 

“Tell me something that only he would know.” The question leaves you before you can really stop it, reverberating off the heavy curtains and the grandiose decor. Everything, from the sheets to the wallpaper, sang with Dio’s touch as he always had an affinity for grandeur. 

Dio releases a soft chuckle, joining you on the bed by seating himself on the edge. In an attempt to be brave, you do not recoil but remain rooted to the center of the white pillows, feeling the familiar prickle of terror shiver up and down your spine. Unperturbed, he rests his cold, large hand over your small, hot one and leans back on his free hand. “My mother’s name was Elizabeth.”

Without wasting a beat, you reply, “That is an easy one, any devil who is truly good at deceit would know that.”

Again, Dio smirks and it is painfully nostalgic. For a moment you remember it, his grin flashing as you walked together careful to not touch by the riverside just a few short months prior. Something deep tugs at you, and tears begin to tickle your eyelids. 

The large, beautiful man begins to lightly tap his pinky against your still appendage, leaning back to look at you once more. “ Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out to the edge of doom . I wrote that to you, in my letter dated September 27th. The first one I wrote when I returned to my studies.” Before he had even finished, you had recognized the sonnet from the letter that you had most coveted. 

“Sonnet 116.” You whisper under your breath, your unseeing eyes dropping to your joined hands as you feel the cold sweat gather in your limp palm. The moment you had received this letter, back then, you had been flushed with desire from head to toe, the line reminiscent of to have and to hold, in sickness and in health , the same vow that you had longed to give him. 

“Correct. It would seem I have pushed you to the brink of doom, and you waver in your dedication. I am beginning to doubt the seriousness of when you pledged yourself to me.” He watched your expression waver again, grasping your damp hand on his own as he guided it closer to his clothed thigh. “Is this not the same hand that held you on the day of your father’s funeral? The one that penned you letters of affection, and bended to your girlish whims? I scoured your journals, your notes and have educated myself on all your intimate desires… and you reject me at every turn.”

For a moment the fervor of passion that licks his features switches to a shade of obsessive rage, leaning his tall, radiating form so you are shaded by his shadow in the flickering candlelight, “I could bring the heavens down for you to touch, and it would never be enough for you.”

At this point your noses are close enough to touch, and you are slowly becoming drunk on his madness, his passion that seemed to envelop you in, tunneling deep to your marrow and liquifying any confidence you had previously mustered. Again, your mouth moves before your mind can stop it, “It is the same hand that killed my driver, Albert.” 

As if struck, Dio’s expression disappeared instantly before letting out loud, rancorous laughter. “Yes, you mean the one that struck me with the shovel, correct?” 

Cautiously you respond, your fingers unknowingly digging into the meat of his inner thigh, “Yes.” 

A soft groan leaves his mouth as his blond lashes flutter close, and his pink tongue briefly flicks between his parted lips. For the smallest moment his pale hand crushes your fingers, before he guides it to the bare, defined planes of his chest. At the touch of his cool skin, you feel your whole body begin to quiver with horror, and something… something else you did not want to name. 

“Yes, yes, I suppose I did do that as well. If I told you that he had been vying for a moment alone with you, would that change your opinion?” He looks at you expectantly, and all you can return is a blank look before you realize he was genuinely asking. You shake your head no. 

Dio remains quiet for a moment with his head facing the curtained windows, deep in thought as his thumb brushes slowly circles the hand that he clasped to his bare chest. “I think I enjoy your fear more, it makes you more…” At this he turns again to face you, his intention plain as day, “--- appetizing .” 

There was no chance you could dodge him as he pounced, pulling your hand close to him as Dio pressed himself into you, almost suffocating you with the cold flesh of his defined chest. The man lingers at your head, his hands buried in your loose curls as he inhales deeply and looks down at your shocked face, “I smell your desire for me, so do not deny yourself. Submit to your fate, my pet.” He purrs this in your ear, and for a breath you can feel desire, lust , completely foreign to you begin to blossom between the apex of your thighs. 

His alluring body shifts down, crimson eyes coming to meet your own and ultimately you are close enough to taste him through your slightly parted lips. Without giving it second thought, he leans down to meet your lips with his own and instinctively your eyes flutter shut. 

Every magazine, every book could not prepare you for the passion, the thick yearning that came with Dio’s touch. While you had been chastely kissed before, this felt so intimate, so new you struggled to retain your breath. Dio guided your lips with his, flicking his soft pink tongue along your inexperienced mouth before it delved in feasting and pulling the very oxygen you struggled to hold on to. Lightheaded, your head slightly sways when he rips apart from you and even in the dimly lit room you see the shine of saliva that still connects you two. It felt terrible, wonderful… fresh, and erotic as your flushed chest rapidly rose trying to regain your breath. Faintly, you feel something dribble down your chin and your hand wipes it away, seeing the shock of red color your trembling digits. Dio had cut your lip, most certainly nicked by his lengthened incisor. 

When you look up to meet his eyes once more, no longer can you see crimson shine back at you, but rather his eyes shone like dark coals in the shrouded room, completely consumed by his pupil and heady desire. Again, there is no time for you to react before he is on you, sucking the weeping wound at your lip as they only grew more swollen and wet with his ministrations. Your jaw is pried open by his tongue, and you feel as if he is trying to devour you from the inside out, tasting, licking, biting every bit of flesh exposed. Your captor, your tormentor, your personal devil now satisfied with your mouth licked his strong tongue upward, kissing and nipping at the corner of your eye now flecked with panicked tears before he dove to the meat of your neck. Pain blossomed deep in the muscle, as you felt his teeth sink below your flesh and straight to a main artery. 

It burns at first, before you feel yourself shrouded in delirious calm, as if you had been suddenly submerged in honey and begin to drown in its saccharine embrace. Your panic breathing slows, and no longer you feel tears roll down your flushed cheeks. Your hands languidly rest on his shoulders, caught between pushing Dio away or pulling him closer. Through lidded eyes you watch your lover’s muscles flex and shift under his luminous skin as he continues to feed, before he pulls back and lets his head fall back and arms splay in pure ecstasy. A deep moan leaves the blond as his own chest rises up and down with his panting, before once again he looks back down at you with pupils blown wide, “You will undo me like no other.”

When Dio kisses you again, you are pliable, open and willing to his attention as he devours your mouth. There are moments, quicker than lightning, where he treats you gently and in this small time you imagine behind closed lids that this is the same Dio that held you with his burning hands, and had written you so sweetly. Between bites, he kisses deeply, between rough pawing squeezes to your waist he trails his fingers delicate along your neck. You cannot help but be consumed, as death certainly awaited you and the small voice inside you begged to live deliciously. 

Temptation was so easy to indulge in, especially when it wore the face of your deepest, private fantasies.

While your fiancé worked his tongue against your own, his hand grasped yours and guided it along his chest, before dipping further down and brushing his toned stomach. You feel his abs shudder against the light touch, and taste his desire as he pushes deeper into your kiss. Blind with lust, it takes a moment to recognize that he had placed your palm on his manhood. A shocked gasp tears through you and you turn your mouth away from him and pull your hand away as if burned. Dio hovers over you for a moment, his expression unreadable before nuzzling his nose along the unblemished side of your neck. 

“I understand your apprehension, my pet. It is quite large.” Something tightens in your belly as you turn your head back, feeling a hot flush radiate from your core and trickle down to your toes. “No worries, I shall prepare you thoroughly. It will be my wedding gift to you, as after this night we shall enter eternal life as husband and wife.”

Before you can question his odd response Dio is ripping the red covers off of you, completely exposing the body of your gown to him before he lifts the front of the heavy skirt and slide his knee right between your exposed thighs. In your panic, you had not been given the chance to realize that Mary had not dressed you in your undergarments or small clothes, and under this opulent gown you were entirely exposed. 

What you had meant as a yelp had come out a keening whine, feeling the cloth of his slacks press against your exposed sex. Gently kneeing you, he watched your timid gasps turn to panting moans and felt his pants grow wet with your arousal. Dio could taste it just from the air, and only felt himself grow larger with desire as your hands began to desperately clutch to his flexed arms. 

This feeling, this well of ardor that poured from you was unlike anything else you experienced before. Letting out a low whine, you find yourself panting and rutting against his leg desperately chasing something as he rocked against you. It felt like a wire was being wound in your very sex, building and winding leading to something entirely unknown to you. 

Dio watched you squirm underneath him, the pinnacle of his obsessive desire unraveling just from his light touch. He felt consumed by you, the object of his tepid affection that had followed him into ascension, this very human desire that remained after everything had been burned away. He wanted to fuck you, to enter you and shape your body to his, to ruin and descerate and burn this need that licked at his loins every lonely hour before dawn. Dio wanted to consume you completely, body and soul, and bury his desire, his infatuation, deep in his chest for only him to own. 

Pulling his knee away, you whine from the loss of sensation and bite your swollen lip before he leans down once more and kisses you softly. This time he does not bite or nip, nor force his way in and for a moment you are allowed to dream of sweeter moments. It was then, in your lust stupor you were slow to notice his hand at your chest, and the sudden distinct sound of fabric ripping and the clatter of several small objects falling to the hardwood floors. You feel the cool air prick your chest, and suddenly you see your breasts exposed to him, nipples perked in the biting air of the room. 

Something between a gasp and a moan leaves you, and once again Dio pulls back to hover over your exposed body. “Y-You ruined it. Why did you tear it?” It is the first time that you are able to form words, and any attempt you make to protect your modesty he swats away with a nonchalant hand. 

Huffing out a chuckle, before smirking and straddling your waist with his large knees, Dio touches each of your breasts with a feather-like touch. He drank your reaction, watching you shiver as he ghosted over your nipples, “You worry too much about the destruction of your gown and not your own.” He speaks plainly, pure honesty paired with his handsome smirk, and suddenly you are reminded of the very reality of this situation, and the terror that still remains no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise. 

As much as it sickens him, it thrills him just as much to see the terror burn in your eyes.

Before you can respond you feel the gentle grip on your breast turn pointed as he pinches your breast. When you opened your mouth to gasp, his sharp mouth latched on the other one and began to softly flick at the tight bud with his tongue, before bringing his mouth to suck on your breast. With each change you had given a stuttering cry, finding your hands knitting into the soft blond curls in an attempt to center yourself during waves of building passion. Dio can feel your hands writhe in his hair, desperately pulling his head closer to your chest as he pulls back for just a moment, to observe, to appreciate this beautiful, submissive creature he had found. 

When he switches to your other breast, he cannot help himself but bite the soft skin and directly drink from the blue vein that circled your areola. At this, your nails dig into his scalp and it takes everything in him to detach as your head lolls back and fresh blood dribbles down your panting breasts. Your vision blurs, and you can only hear and feel him shift above you, before cold fingers press into your wet sex and steal your breath away. 

Dio, taking advantage of your open mouth once again reclaims it, and begins to expertly pull your orgasm from you by rubbing his fingers in slow circles. Any inhibitions are forgotten, and you are merely rendered a beast of flesh, a carrier of biological intention as your thighs begin to rub together chasing the building heat in your sopping core. Something animal, based in pure instinct unfurls and you find yourself returning Dio’s cool fervor. Where he bites, you bite back, as his mouth pushes against yours you push harder back, bruising your already swollen lips against your teeth. When he releases your mouth and holds your chin in his grip, he is met with the look of his own personal devil, his base instincts being pulled from him startlingly ease. Amidst the fog of your own lust, your pink tongue licked at his finger, causing his grin to only deepen as he pressed your place most intimate harder with skilled fingers.  

Words cannot describe the hot sensation that curled in your stomach and radiated through the tips of your toes and the crown of your curls. Every inch of skin felt burning, exposed to his lechrous touch as he continued to guide you right to the edge. Your moans and whines had become deaf to your own ears, fully immersed in the feeling as it pulled closer and closer, bucking your hips faster and faster into his palm. Feeling right on the precipice, you feel him pull suddenly away, pressing his wet hand into your thigh as his other releases your chin and slowly hitches your leg over his shoulder. Split open, the night air licks the drenched center of your thighs and your whole body begins to shake with anticipation. You wiggle and squirm as Dio watches amused at your futile attempts to find release, to rut yourself over any bit of friction your body could find. 

“So desperate for my touch… I truly cherish you most like this.” His words rumble against your inner thigh as he tugs your waist closer to him, completely lifting your hips from the bed. Still wiggling, you are sorely unprepared for when his tongue began to flick at your core. You cannot help but cry out, your body shivering in pleasure as it tore through every sense you prided yourself for. Any words were reduced to begging cries, this time solely begging for your release from this tortuous yet sweet burning pleasure. 

You come undone when he inserts a thick digit inside and curls it, milking your orgasm in one swift blow. He can’t stop the moan that leaves him when the blond feels your walls clasp tightly around his finger, squeezing so hard it slipped out. A rush of your release pours out and soaks his thighs, as you are lost in the throes of newfound pleasure, legs haplessly shaking. His large palm rocks against your clit, and lengthens your climax as your body limply falls to the now wet sheets. 

Still riding the wave of your release, even his touch is enough to guide you back to climax. Hands fisting the pillows and sheets, you watched with lidded, cum drunk eyes as Dio undid his pants. 

And you are struck with the fleeting feeling that perhaps you should have been more worried about your destruction. 

Even if you had seen another’s manhood in the flesh, you don’t think it would have ever prepared you for the length that he brandished. With wide, glassy eyes you watched Dio fist the thick, large member, his long fingers barely touching as he grasped his cock. The room, now thick with the smell of sex, felt suddenly suffocating as you realized that he would attempt to fit that inside you. 

Your kidnapper saw the flicker of apprehension, and simply shifted your body closer so your entrance pressed against his freezing cock. You puff out a breath in surprise, and then another in pleasure when you feel the head of his manhood brush against your most sensitive point, before sliding back and resting right at your virginal opening. 

“ Please…” You whine, cry out breathless and at this point you are sure what you are asking for. Before you can decipher your own desire, Dio spears you with his own. The sensation is enough to decenter you, knock the wind straight out of you as you feel the blonde penetrate deep inside. While foreign, it feels deeply right and never in your life had you felt complete in this way. His mouth finds yours, and not letting you a chance to adjust, the large man fucks you roughly and deeply. 

Your tears, cries of pleasure and pain, he consumes as Dio feels you grip his cock with your addicting heat. He could die here, kill to be there, and surrender most of his pride just to feel the pulse of your virginal core milk his cock to release. Anything you pour out he drinks, and Dio finds himself drunk from just your taste and touch alone, a terrible combination for a hedonistic vampire. Pupils blown and drunk chasing his own orgasm, he watches you fist the sheets and pillow, fumbling for purchase as he roughly fucks your cunt like his own personal toy. 

This was his wedding gift.

You almost pull him over the edge when you cum on his member, squeezing him so tight he pulls out and simply pants. In the flickering candlelight, Dio’s length shines with your arousal and he feels the bed soaked with your second release. 

“Jonathan… Jonathan will come tomorrow in an attempt to steal you away with his pathetic heroics. He will try to kill me once more, and in order to shed my last dregs of humanity before facing him I needed to.. No, wanted to kill this lingering affliction.” 

You were still completely preoccupied with chasing your own breath, trying to still your still shaking limbs as your climax still left you sensitive and pliant. Unable to pull away, you let Dio flip you on your belly and pull your hips back to feel the bump of his cock against your quivering cunt. You mumble incoherently, a cacophony of please, stop, no, don’t, stop, please bubbling from your bruised lips only serving as music to your terrifying paramour. His large hand come to rest on the crown of your head, lightly pushing it deeper into the mattress as he once again entered you with blinding ferocity. Peppered with your moans you can hear the lewd sound of his hard flesh slamming into the soft of your ass, accompanied by your soaking cunt producing the most depraved, wet noises. Dio has begun to loosen the tight binds of his self control, letting himself sink into the pull of pleasure that your beautiful cunt had begun to milk from him. Deep moans and gasps poured from him, and just when you think that would be the final thing you heard before he fucked you in exhaustion, his hand tighten the grip on your hair and wretches your back towards him. Releasing the burning grip on your hair, he gripped your chin and painfully bent your mouth to meet his as he continued to roughly fuck you from behind. Dio’s tongue pushed against yours, his desperation plain as he tried to dominate every part of your body. 

In your delirious and suggestible state, you arrived at your third orgasm and found yourself grateful for his strong, bruising grip as you could only resign yourself to crying and shaking through the hot pleasure that ripped through you. Fully spent, he allowed you to slump forward but wormed his now free hand between your thighs and rubs your overstimulated clitoris while his cock continued to pound away at your tired cunt. 

Despite your limited experience and your lack of vision, you can feel that this time its different. Dio had begun to fray at the edges, the punishing pace no longer rhythmic but more sporadic as he buried himself deeply in your sex. Curses, melted with words of affection, and breathy moans began to fall from his own swollen lips as he felt you once again, approach release and grip his cock with that pulsating, warm piece of heaven that laid between your legs. His nails dig into your soft waist and the one fingering your cunt moves to grip your ass, and pull apart the fat of your hips to watch your sweet pussy devour his cock. 

It’s this sight that fully unravels the brutal vampire, pleasure cascading through every pore as he felt his cock pump his seed deep in your still pulsing core. Finally spent himself, and acutely aware of the heavy smell of sex and sweat that permeated the room, he collapsed on top of you. Once again you are pressed against the bed, feeling his weeping still heavy cock press against your ass as reality begins to trickle back to your senses. Dio remains there, your terrible dark prince, resting against your body and listening to the sound of your once frantic heartbeat slow to a rhythmic, lulling pace. 

“Dio… you are crushing me.” You mumble this into the mattress, and Dio cannot help himself but chuckle and toss his fluffy blond curls to the side. 

Raising himself on his forearms, he flopped next to you and began to idly trace circles against your hipbone. His head was leaned up against the pillow, an arm propped behind his head as the picture perfection vision of relaxation. Even after he had brutally fucked you and had pulled many lewd noises from your mouth, you couldn’t help but remain bashful despite it all. 

“That is the first time you have called me by my name, pet.” Dio’s voice guides you back to the room and away from the spiral of embarrassment that had begun to form. 

“I suppose I… I finally believe that you are him, my fiancé afterall.” When you say this you cannot face him, simply curling into your own body as you try to shield yourself from the chill that had begun to settle on your exposed flesh. 

“Then this next part will bring great sadness then, my beloved.” Confused, you turn your head to meet his eyes and find him once again sliding over your body and claiming your mouth with his. Drunk with desire, and the pain of yearning for acceptance you let himself claim you once more completely.

You feel his hands return to your chest, and instead of the tender touch you expected you are met with the most unimaginably, horrible, all consuming pain you had ever felt in your small existence. His tongue still deep in your mouth, the sudden agony that rips through every sense causes you to bite down on his tongue, sending a flood of copper into your waning tastebuds. Frenzied with torment, you looked down to be met with a vision of red, purple, and shock white in the place where your breasts should be. 

While you had sucked stupidly at your dead paramour's tongue, the devil had ripped open your chest, exposing your still beating heart and lungs to the open air still perfumed with your sex. Whatever Dio sees in your eyes, it flushes him with a venomous rage that causes him to grip your chin for the last time, and spit blood from his leaking tongue into your gaping mouth. For just a moment you flounder, choking on your own blood before death claims the light of your eyes and Dio drops your limp, lifeless body to the soaked mattress.  

Now that the last of his humanity had been killed, he was promised certain glory over the dominion of humanity. And more importantly, Jonathan Joestar. 

epilogue: future games

A few days later, Dio had been defeated by hamon power wielded by the determined Joestar heir. When Speedwagon and Jonathan had searched the ruin estate for you, they had encountered the massacre that occurred on your bridal bed. This time it had been Speedwagon tearing Jonathan away from your cold corpse saying that they must flee at once, lest Dio’s surviving minions would make another bold attempt at their already weak state. 

The next morning, when they had returned to collect your remains they found the room empty, a bloodstained mattress and ruined dress the only remnants of your existence. Frustrated, Jonathan and Speedwagon had exhausted all means to try and find where your corpse had been shuttled off to, before relinquishing himself to the reality of not knowing. 

Erina, upon learning of your terrible fate, had cried for a straight week and could only comforted to a restless sleep from Jonathan’s strong arms. 

You had, however, woken to the unfamiliar ceiling before peeling your nude body from the crusted, dried mattress. The very air around you felt overstimulating, and when you open your tongue to the exposed air you can taste the blood of rats pumping vivaciously through their fat, scurrying bodies as they scuttled about the decaying mansion. 

Like a bad dream, the hole in your chest was now healed and whole however the unmarred skin remained a tint more gray. Something you would come to learn that was only noticeable when the moon was at its brightest and fullest.

Despite your heightened state, you could not sense Dio. Thrust freshly into this newfound affliction, you got the profound sense you would be stumbling through it alone as Dio… Dio felt gone. It was as if in your slumber a new set of instincts had been hardwired in, and felt the absence of your maker deep to your genetic code. 

Licking your dry lips you feel the prick of something sharp along your tongue. Turning to face the only mirror in the room, you leaned forward to admire the two shock white fangs that grew from your gums. Still nude, and giddy with newfound prospects, you began to carve away your plans to live most decadently, and take full advantage of the curse Dio had forced upon you. 

Despite it all, you would keep living. 

“Well, the window is not opening by itself. Something must be wrong with it.” You fold your arms, frowning deeply before shaking your head, “I apologize for being blunt but you must understand that this predicament is affecting my sleep.”

The man shifts from foot to foot, rubbing his dark mustache, and then his chin before giving a resigned sigh, “I can install a reinforced bar across its window, therefore you would have to unlock it before it could swing open. Should anything be faulty with the latch, this will prevent it.”

Throwing up your arms in defeat, you stalk out of the room only to be trailed by your head of staff, Percy, following behind like a shadow. Perhaps if he had done that originally, on the first visit, you would have had several sleep gowns still intact. 

Since Jonathan had been welcomed into the east wing of the estate (Erina on your side, in the west), your dreams and sleepwalking had only grown in ferocity. Several nights the watchmen, as well as the stableboy and even Erina herself , had found you putting about in the dead of night in the gardens. You were often hunched over, ferociously digging in the earth with broken and stained nails. Upset with your own affliction, you had begged Mary, the head maid and your personal attendant, to tie you down in the bed.

That very same evening, Albert, the same man who had driven you home from the hospital, had found you wandering the grounds bleeding at your wrists and armed with a silver bladed knife. In a secret pact, you and Mary agreed not to tie yourself down going forward. Even if the nicks on your wrist were shallow, they were devastatingly close to the blue vein that prominently bulged on the underside of your wrist. 

Reflecting back, this was just a few days after Jonathan and Erina’s homecoming. The same day that Jonathan had encountered that mysterious instructor of his, where he spent most of his days training under. As time stretched on, around two weeks for that matter, you had gained insight that perhaps Jonathan and Erina were hiding a secret from you. 

At first you assumed it to be their blossoming romance, from their shared whispers and quick looks in your direction every time you entered the room. A distinct feeling of being caught rolled off in waves from the young man, while Erina was always able to play it off coolly, asking about how your studies had been treating you. Strict conventions kept you inside only to converse with intimate friends and family for at least two months, and then an additional 7 months of mourning awaited you. After a complete year, you would be released from the proverbial chains of death and rush right back into the soft pastels, the deep maroons, and royal blues that awaited you in your growing closet. Every two weeks, a large package from the seamstress would arrive and it would send your head spinning with glee, feeling the soft imported silks and basking in the jewels’ glimmer. Another stunning evening gown to add to your collection for when you would be able to re-enter society, and thus officially begin scouting out a husband. 

However, in the meantime, you poured over the ancient library that your father, and your father’s father and the like had meticulously collected and maintained over the years. Studies of modern politics, economics, and an updated encyclopedia collection were added to the lists for Percy to order you now that you had fully delved into your research. To find a capable husband, you would have to be a capable woman but also remain respectably in your place as his inferior, trying to find the fickle balance and remain as an educated and docile woman. 

Wanting to brush off the annoyance from that oblivious locksmith, you stomped towards the library with full intent of locking yourself away until the evening. Percy, ever patient, had helped you set up in the library and deftly avoided your barbed quips, and had full intentions of leaving you to stew until a package arrived. Recognizing the shape, he smiled broadly and carried the luxuriously wrapped delivery up to your study where you still remained hunched over your book and your journal open and drying the fresh ink from your notes. 

Hearing the door open, you straightened your posture and set the fountain pen on the pine desk, “Percy, I thought I was not to be disturbed until dinner.” You see his outline in the window in front of you, spread across the evening landscape darkening with the setting sun. 

“My apologies, my lady. But it seems that another delivery arrived for you, and I am positive that this will be a welcome interruption.” To emphasize, you see his reflection lift the large object in his arms, and you finally turn to meet him standing in the doorway.  

It was a dress delivery. One that you hadn’t been expecting, as a walking set had arrived just days prior. No matter, the box and the wrapping were entirely different from the boxes that the seamstress had sent you. A gift perhaps? From Jonathan? 

A feeling of familiarity wiggles in your stomach as you recognize the wrapping, exclusively associated with an up and coming prominent designer that only the most wealthy could purchase, much less commission. Trying to still the beating of your heart, you jump from the chair and quickly take the package, all the while attempting to smother the grin that began to grow on your soft lips. Setting it on the nearest polished table, you pluck the folded card looped around the package with a silk tie and feel your heart burst with confirmation. 

Charles Frederick Worth.

You squeal in delight, the long coveted designs had dominated the clippings you had collected and now lost in the burning fire. Jonathan must have splurged, must have remembered your bias towards the designer located in Paris. How he had afforded it given the conditions, much less facilitate it with such a quick turnaround was beyond you. Briefly you gleaned underneath the signature from the designer was a hand written inscription with your name, and the phrase “ I will see it through.” Before you could dwell too much into the meaning, you excitedly ripped open the box to see the heaviest, most luxurious gown you had ever laid eyes on. 

The gown was constructed from deep, red velvet, the beautiful heavy skirt folded underneath the white lace beaded top that dipped deeply to where your cleavage would rest and the sleeves covering only the barest bit of your shoulders and leaving your neckline entirely exposed. The crocheted lace dipped from the bodice to the waistline, forming a delicate ‘V’ shape that only accentuated the small of your waist and the soft of your breast. Small pearls accented the cream lace, and it was then that you noticed a smaller sleeve tucked into the large puff of crimson, heavily beaded with natural cream pearls. Pulling the top out, you marveled at the intricacies and placed it over your breast as you waltzed to look in the mirror that hung over the fireplace.  You giggled and hummed to yourself, imagining yourself draped in the beautiful heavy fabric instead of your pitch black garb.

Percy, amused to finally see the girlish antics he had become accustomed to under his time at the Joestar mansion, took his leave and began to see to the details of rapidly approaching dinner hour. 

At dinner over poached duck and roasted asparagus, you had inquired about the gift and Jonathan only returned your question with a look of confusion before he and Erina shared a knowing look. Still bubbling from your earlier confrontation with the locksmith, you felt a spark of betrayal flutter through you from their growing bond and their wordless messages. 

“Perhaps it was just a misdelivery?” Erina offers this, casting a placating look in your direction as she placed a piece of duck on her tongue. 

Swallowing, you hum, “I thought the same at first however it was addressed to me. Perhaps a neighboring governess as my name.” You finish the thought off with a deep dreg of wine, maintaining eye contact with the squirming Joestar across from you. 

“Y-Yes, that seems to be the most likely answer.” Even from the small distance, you can see the sheen of sweat along his brow as he nervously glanced between you and Erina. 

Turning your head to the side, you gaze out the window to the rolling hills of the estate before swiveling back and seeing Jonathan finishing distinctly mouthing something to Erina who also sat across from him. Erina, keenly aware of your now pointed look, subtly shakes her head before diving back into her meal. You watch the two for a moment, placing your elbows on the table and folding your hands so your chin can rest as you observe the two. 

So they were keeping secrets. 

Playfully, you smirk, “What are you hiding from me?” Erina remains cool, looking over to you with a blank smile while Jonathan profusely begins to sweat. 

“What would make you say that?” The blonde asks, her head titled inquisitively. 

Frowning, you sit up, “Oh, come off it Erina. I see your secret looks and have walked in on you whispering to one another. Jonathan is also a terrible liar and currently sitting in a puddle of his own sweat.” At this, the large man blushed and looked away, taking the cloth napkin from the table and furiously dabbing at his forehead. 

Matching your frown, Erina huffed a sigh before looking back at you, “I have not the slightest idea what you mean.”

“Well how about I give you my insight. I have an admirer that you are aware of, perhaps that Speedwagon fellow, and you two must play dumb until I am allowed in public again Or …” You tap the table with a single finger, your grin only growing. 

“Or?” Erina said, now amused. 

“You are pregnant.” At this, Jonathan, who was mid-sip of water, sputters his drink out in shock before quickly apologizing and grabbing your cloth napkin to wipe his face. His being still fully damp from the sweat he had attempted to cover just moments before. 

While Jonathan had resigned himself to panic, Erina merely laughed before placing a hand on your forearm, “Incorrect, but I have missed your teasing. I take it your little gift has lifted your spirits?”

“You could say that. Percy witnessed me at my wit’s end with that damn locksmith. If a man like that can find his way through the world, I would imagine I should be more than capable of surviving the next couple years.” At this, feeling the loosening of your tongue from the wine, you let you a belt of laughter that is joined by Erina. 

Once your giggles had died down, Erina gave the soft of your arm a squeeze, “I’m glad the gift served its purpose then. I know you have been feeling… quite unwell these past weeks.” 

Satisfied with your inquisition, you switched the topic to Jonathan’s daily visits with his trainer and started to prod about what exactly he was training for before Erina had offered to refill your wine glass and you had become distracted once more. Feeling the haze of wine cling to your senses and dye your teeth, you excused yourself for the evening and tutted off to bed. 

Mary, who had Sundays off, was unable to assist you into your nightgown so you opted to step out of the pool of black cotton and slide nude and drunk into the soft covers. In your stupor, you had managed to collect all the pins from your hair and take off any hindering jewelry, letting yourself sway a moment in front of the mirror as you took in the newly installed iron bar across the floor to ceiling window. 

At some point in the evening, Percy had brought your gift up from the library and deposited it in the middle of your closet, hanging in all its ruby glory. Curled in the soft down covers that smelled faintly of lavender, you fell into the deepest sleep you had experienced in a long time. 

You are awoken to the feeling of being tugged on, and something pulling insistently at your midsection. Groggily, you open your eyes and the only thing you can register is red. For a moment your mind renders you back to that terrible night, and you are only sucked back to the present when your fists burrow into the deep velvet folds of your dress. Blinking several times, you realize that you are standing in your room wearing the gown you had recently been gifted (currently under the assumption it was from Erina) and glanced back to see Mary finishing tightening your corset, before looping the final laces. 

Confused, you rub your eyes and your fingers come away black, stained with makeup you did not remember applying. Glancing around the room, you see yourself in the reflection, a picture of opulence and beauty, like a fresh red rose, primed for plucking. Your cheeks are shaded with a light rouge and your eyes, now slightly smudged, were outlined in black that gave the illusion of a sultry, lidded gaze. Unable to see Mary’s face in the reflection, you watch the soft brown curls bob up and down as she moves down the back of the dress. 

Your room is dimly lit by a single candle and the sliver of moonlight from the clear, crisp evening. Panic begins to prickle at the base of your skull, feeling the gentle breeze rock through the swaying, open window. Trying to tug yourself away, you feel yourself snapped back into place by an unusually strong grip and once more spare a panicked glance to the shrouded face of your trusted maid. 

“M-Mary… I fear that my affliction may be contagious and you have fallen ill.” Swallowing deeply, you rock your bare feet against the hardwood and push yourself forward. Mary’s hands suddenly release the ties and causing you to stumble towards your desk and grab the object your animal instincts guided you towards. A thin, silver knife with a black handle. The same one that you had cut your bonds with when you had been tied down to your giant, oak bedframe. The same one that had suddenly appeared after that night, its origin a blank spot in your mind. While you had no intention of using it, gripping the weapon in your tight fist eased the growing anxiety that rumbled in your belly. 

“My lady… I am not ill. I have simply been given special instructions by the master. It was of utmost importance that I prepared you.” The brunette’s hands remain lifted, as if simply paused in the action of lacing up your gown. In your panic you had not realized that she had completed it, and your release may have been something she allowed. 

“Mary, you are scaring me. There is no master to this house. If you are referring to Jonathan there is no reason he would wake me at this dreadful hour. Much less…” You look down at the gown, noticing that the train remained unpinned so if suddenly you had to make a quick sprint for the door you would have to make the vital decision between grabbing the massive, heavy skirt, or keeping the knife in your vice grip. Dropping the knife would give you the advantage of not tripping, however would leave you unguarded. However, if you carried the knife… you stood a high chance of tripping over the unhemmed bottom. In what felt like minutes was merely a few seconds as your fear flipped rapidly through these scenarios, survival instincts pumping you closer, and closer to the open window. While it might be a steep fall, a large azealia bush stood below and could hopefully cushion the worst lest you had to jump. 

The brunette maid remained almost frozen in midaction, before her head tilted to the right in an odd, unnatural angle. A quiet whine began to build, seemingly coming from the familiar woman, “My master is not that filthy , pathetic Joestar. My master is glorious, he is truly beautiful and benevolent to his followers. I am blessed with the honor of preparing his bride.” Taking a shuddering step, you heard her body creak and snap as her facade came into the blue halo of moonlight, “My lord Dio has prepared your wedding, my lady.” 

Finally you are able to see her face, and between the horror of your late fiance being mentioned, and the macabre image that was your beloved maid’s face, you feel a scream of despair rip through your throat. Where once there was round, plump cheeks had withered and grayed, yellow fat slopping down her face and exposing her white gums and black teeth. Her button nose was now smashed, and oozing a thick, tar like substance that dribbled down her chin. The most unnatural, disgusting part was her mouth, and the slick purple tongue that whipped around her gnashing black teeth, chattering and clicking as she stumbled closer. 

Fear and tears blurred your vision, and you pushed yourself to the window and began to scream madly for Jonathan, for Percy, for anyone to come save you from this terrible, vivid nightmare. That’s right, you must be dreaming. This must be another terrible dream that you will wake up from. Running on pure instinct, you brandish the knife, “You’re not real. You’re just some terrible nightmare I’m having. I’ll wake up soon and remember nothing. You’re not real.” 

Despite your attempts to soothe yourself, you couldn’t help but smell the earth and decay that wafted over to you from the now much too close apparition. Covering your mouth and nose, you hold the knife pointed as you swing a leg over the ledge of the window. It was a menacing drop, but perhaps something this jarring would be enough to wake you from the nightmare. And at least the bush was big enough to cushion the fall, on the off chance you were experiencing this. You carefully adjusted your grip on the blade, before giving another desperate glance towards the creature that still hobbled towards you, and then pushed yourself over the ledge. 

With your eyes closed you felt the rush of cool air pinch your exposed flesh before suddenly you are stopped, the ground never reaching you like you had anticipated. For a moment you wonder if you had actually broken the spell of sleep, and opened your eyes to see something much more terrible. 

Dio looked down at you, his terrifying beauty piercing you deep to the core and you felt nothing but fear as you withered under his terrible, crimson gaze. He had caught you mid-air, and now held you as a husband held his bride, just meters above the ground. Your stomach drops like a stone, and for a second your vision blurs as you struggle to breathe under his cruel gaze. 

“I promised you, my little lamb. I would see this through.” When he grins in the pale moonlight, you see the glint of two prominent teeth, and you realized these were the same monstrous fangs you had witnessed a month ago. This was the same terrible devil that Jonathan had vanquished, the same one that had burned in the pyre of the estate. 

The blade burns in your palm as a reminder, and the devil in yourself rears its ugly head as you plunge the dagger into his porcelain throat, feeling arterial spray coat your tongue as your open mouth gives a desperate cry. For a moment you feel the familiar rush of air, and you think for a moment the creature had dropped you before once again you feel the cold, large hands snatch your wrist just to let you dangle a breath from the ground. 

A deep chuckle rumbles above you, one freckled with familiarity and you glance upwards to his burning smirk, “How ignorant of me to assume that you would come willingly to slaughter.” You try to wiggle your palm away, seeing the silver blade still embedded deep in his neck. A mortal wound on anything else, a mere annoying scratch on the nefarious foe that clutched your feeble wrist. 

Suddenly he drops you, and you tumble to your hands and knees as his brown boots stand before you. Wordlessly, you watch your tears drip to the grass and realize that there will be no salvation, no redemption from this gruesome death that awaited you. Voice shaking, you speak to the ground, “I rebuke you devil. I rebuke your temptations. I hear your voice whisper to me every night and I ignored its call. You may take my flesh but my soul will not be tarnished by your temptations.” Angrily, you look up, “You may wear my beloved’s skin, but that is not enough to seduce me to your dark path, devil .” You spat the last part out, feeling his grin only deepen in dark mirth. 

“How amusing, you think my body possessed… Even when faced with the blunt reality of my prowess, your human mind fabricates reality to justify what your heart yearns for.” His laughter echoes on the silent grounds, and even in the dead of night the normal chatter of nocturnal creatures are rendered quiet, all alerted to the apex predator that patrolled the grassy plains. You hear the distinct sound of squelching before a spatter of blood dropped to the grass in front of you, the blade now twirling between Dio’s long, elegant fingers directly in your eyeline. 

Blinking away tears, you watch as several objects flutter softly to the ground, a few landing on the backside of your hands. You rolled back to rest on your heels, grabbed the little thing and examined it under the dim moonlight. Feeling your heartbeat in your throat, you recognize it as the same one you had mailed Dio months ago. Scattered in the grass were all the flowers you had personally picked and pressed, still fragrant with the perfume you smashed against the now ruined bedroom wall that terrible night. Reality sets in like wet cement, and you feel as if your head is full of lead as you roll yourself back and try to scoot away, pushing your already stained nails into the soft earth. 

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he stalks over to you and grabs your leg as you scramble for purchase, “My gifts go once again unappreciated. I remembered your devotion to this particular designer, and you sully it to spite me.” He pulls your bare calf towards him, feeling the pinch of his sharp nails dig into your plush skin. Flipping over you realize you are caged beneath him, locked under his crouched form with his groin dangerously close to your breast and your heavy gown hitched up to expose the curve of your thigh. This close you are flushed with his familiar cologne, a sickening reminder that perhaps your vessel of affection was truly the perpetrator all along. 

Dio leans down, his expression one of rapt fascination and blood lust, “I told you I would plan our wedding, did I not?” At this he grabs your face in a single hand, gripping your jaw with crushing force, causing your lips to force open. His blond curls tickle your slick forehead, damp with fear and adrenaline as Dio watches your eyes move with panic. Inhaling deeply, he can smell, no, taste your fear perfume the air,  “A man pours himself out for his betrothed to drink and you spit it out, the ever petulant brat you are. You suckle on the teat of privilege, and are weakened by it.” 

At this you begin to cry, and he can only grin wildly as his cruel hand wipes away your tears that flood your perfect cheek, “Nevermind, my love. I have given you a choice. Fulfill your duty as my bride and submit to your fate, or die by the hand you promised yourself to.” 

Dio can hear the roar of your virginal blood pump beneath his fingertips, your heart beating rapidly like a caged pheasant who knew its approaching slaughter. The vampire watched as you struggled with words, still desperately trying to wiggle out beneath him before slumping into defeat. Before he could get your answer however, he is interrupted by the clatter of a blunt object colliding with his skull. Releasing your face, he lets you drop to the ground as he whirls to face a boy, no man, just stepping in adulthood dropping a heavy shovel in shock.  

Shock pales his features, and before the man could finish the sentence he stumbled over, Dio shot his hand out and crushed the feeble man's skull in a single blow. With amusement, he watched the headless lump of flesh tumble to the ground, licking the residual blood from his fingertips. “Your answer, my pet. I still need-” He turns back to face you, and is stopped mid sentence as you had passed out cold from this final shock. Your hair wild, and your hands stained with blood and dirt, Dio found himself obsessively drawn to you and even he himself could not deny the call of your blood running beneath his clawed fingertips. 

Rolling his eyes in mock annoyance, he leaned down to scoop your limp body and gently guided your head to rest against his cool, pallid neck. Satisfied with your hot, rhythmic breath against his skin, he strutted forward to the undead carriage that awaited him. Two tall horses tapped restlessly at the cobblestone, as the zombified driver flicked his hot ash from his cigarette along their tanned hides. The animals huffed and snarled, no longer the docile creatures they had once been. 

Giving one last glance to the still sleeping mansion, Dio entered the dark carriage and held your warm body against his, drinking in the glow of your beauty as the carriage gently rocked its way to Windknight’s Lot. Yet another decision he had made for you, for the better of your relationship.

author's note: the dress mentioned is this one

It rained incessantly that spring of 1888, your mood soured with being cooped up for too long with just the company of the dedicated serving staff and the kind Joestar patriarch. That fall it rained in great buckets and left you cornered by the window, pricking your fingertips as your cross-stitch steadily came round. 

This particular evening you were holed up in the library, two large candles burning beside you as the storm outside set flickers of light across the cavernous room. The desk was covered with papers, fashion journals specifically, and a few scattered books. On top of the stack was a letter, penned to Erina who still busily studied in India, detailed the very monotony that your life had become. While you wouldn’t dare vocalize your complaints to the man who very kindly arranged for your care taking, you still longed for a companion close in age. In Erina’s letter it detailed a saucy novel in which a woman is seduced by a dashing pirate, fleeing her marriage in light of temptation. While it did not detail anything explicit… the thoughts stirred in you as you continued to stitch away with your needle. 

No matter how hard you tried to recenter your thoughts back onto the soft loops of the lavender heads, you felt a very shy, bashful part of your mind wander. Then suddenly, your heart beat faster as a sinful, dreadful thought burrowed it’s way into your mind's eye. For a moment you saw yourself, in the soft pink silk of your tea gown, pushed against the deep mahogany of the desk by a hard strong body, your cheek delicately caressed and sweet nothings, heavy with longing and tenderness rolled down your spine. When you flutter your eyes open, you are met with a softer, tender gaze of a lover, one that is conjured by the intricate illustrations of your fairy tale novels. 

A roll of thunder breaks your concentration, sending the needle straight into the soft fat of your pointer finger. Blood gushes generously, blotting the light white fabric of your craft before you hurriedly throw it back on the desk. You feel shame color your cheeks, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes as your carelessness had cost you hours of meticulous focus. Ruined, ruined. 

Sticking your finger in your mouth, you pluck the cross-stitch from the round table, spotting the deep red staining the soft yellows of the bees and the pinks of the sea thrift flowers. You feel your chest go hot, and before even realizing it, the wooden frame flies from your hand and smashes across the room, the clatter reverberating off the towering walls.

It was his fault anyways. He had ruined it. 

Almost two years ago, your engagement was announced to the adopted child of the Joestar family, Dio Brando. Your father, a fast and close friend of George, had become ill with consumption and was withering by the day. Your mother had long since passed in childbirth along with your infant brother, and in the shadow of your 17th birthday there was a massive estate set to be your inheritance leaving you susceptible to trickery. Your father, ever the planner, could not bear to marry you off so young, to a boy that had yet to prove themselves and arranged a contract with the Joestar family. 

That the adopted child, Dio Brando, would complete his education and pursue a career capable of supporting you, the demands of the estate, and its extensive investments and then, and only then would marriage grant him access to the trust. In the time that Dio had fallen under the Joestar tuliage, he had blossomed into an exceedingly blessed student, outpacing almost everyone in academics and sport alike. Your father, in his last good spring, had been convinced by a rugby game that George had invited him too. Where your father had seen rugged determination and striking confidence, you had seen sinister, narcissistic intentions. But like the good, subservient daughter you were, you nodded your head in agreement and swallowed your tears during your engagement dress fitting. 

In the meantime, you two remained distantly engaged, him and Jonathan both attending school in London, and you confined to the Joestar estate in the rolling green hills of the countryside. While you did enjoy the quiet, a part of you longed for Jonathan to come home so you could at least be entertained by the boy-ish antics he and Dio embarked on at their boarding school. And even though your betrothed never regaled his escapades to you himself, a part of you longed for the striking blond to tell you. 

Another part relished in the independence and distance he afforded you. After all, he had only treated you with coldness and apathy. On the evening after your father’s death, you and your attending governess, Meredith, were moved into the east wing of the Joestar estate. Your room was miles from the two boys, both tip-toeing on the edge of twenty. He had distantly regarded you, a shadow of a lean, tall man from the corner who looked over you with predatorial indifference. In this moment, you knew George’s intentions were to further protect your reputation and modesty, however you found yourself thankful for the separation in other ways. Meredith had moved away a few months later further isolating you, accepting marriage from a fisherman off the shores of Ireland. 

 Erina had warned you early on about Dio, recalling a sordid tale where he had forced himself upon her and basked in her misery. And while you did not see the tell-tale signs of his sadistic cruelty , you felt it like a dormant serpent in his gaze whenever the two of you happened to be alone. But much to your surprise, his cruelty was not limited to malevolent intimidations, but apathy as well. 

The next evening during your father’s wake, draped in black silk and lace, you stood held by Meredith and Dio. Your face pale and shadowed by the soft black veil, the well of your tears long since dry after leaving the deathbed of your father. All that remained was a hollow feeling, the loud roaring in your ears, and the very warm hand of Dio radiating heat through his leather glove, bleeding into the dark wool of your overcoat. Despite the chill of the snow, you had never felt so hot. 

From then your small efforts of affection were ignored, overturned, or brazenly rejected. Invites for walks were haughtily laughed at, your letters to him remained unresponded, and he never had accompanied you to a public event outside of your packed engagement soiree and your father’s luxurious wake. You wanted to be a good wife, dutiful and kind, you wanted to be a mother and raise his sons. This was your burden, the purpose driven into you from the moment of wakefulness. You desired his affection, carved yourself hollow for Dio to slip in and the blond man only regarded you in his cold, cruel manner that he seemed to reserve solely for you. Despite Erina’s past claims, Dio was received warmly and regarded as trustworthy, kind even by his peers. 

In a fit of desperation, you had sought out advice from George Joestar who had lovingly reminded you that his adopted son was under immense pressure to succeed as the contract of your engagement remained largely in his hands. You had nodded in agreement, and outwardly resolved yourself to supporting him as much as possible, and the Joestar patriarch had commended your newfound outlook. 

Inwardly, it had felt like a crushing blow. A startling reminder that it would always be your word against the cunning man, who had spent the last decade laying ground work for his perversions. The world viewed you as not even a full woman yet, still a silly girl in need of protection from her own kindness. 

“---Brooding in the dark, are we?”

Speak of the devil . 

Turning, you see your betrothed’s outline leaning against the door frame to the entry way, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable from the darkness that shrouded his features. Frowning, you take your finger from your mouth and grip the front of your gown, the tips of your toes beginning to tap against the pine floor with anticipation. “When did you get home? Jonathan told me in his letter he would be returning in three days time. I assumed you would be accompanying him.”

At the mention of the younger Joestar, the blond scoffed and pushed himself off the door frame stalking over to you. “Jonathan, my dear brother, and I are not conjoined at the hip. My business is mine alone. Besides,” A long, deadly elegant hand rips the chair across from you back, the sudden scrap of wood against the floor jolting you. “---I cannot have my lovely fiancée speaking more to my brother than her fiancé, so consider this my first ask of you. You shall stop communicating with Jonathan immediately, all your visitations must be supervised by me, and only me.” He plops down next to you, grinning that smug, horrible grin of his like he didn’t come in like a storm, uprooting your few joys with the casual flick of his hand. 

You openly gawk at him, arms crossing over your chest as your face begins to heat up. Not a single sentence can be strung together, you are thoroughly stunned at this proclamation, and the only thing you can think of is the half year in which he ignored you, and if he could stop you before you rammed the needle in his throat. 

“I can tell you are confused, no matter, let me explain my beautiful fiancée, ” Dio is grinning at you like a wolf with a fatten calf, leaning in with his terrible enrapturing beauty and stealing your limp hand in his burning two. He smells of sweet cologne, and very faintly you swear, roses , and you're close enough to see your terrible, cruel fiancé’s symmetrical moles lined neatly along his earlobe. 

“I only have your dignity in mind, I cannot have rumors running about that my soon to be wife is already committing adulterous acts. I only have what’s best in mind for you, for us .” 

That hit you like a wall, washing over you from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. You felt an odd, distant tingling in your spine and a fluttering of rage in your chest. “Since when have you been so overtly concerned with my reputation?” You snatch your hand away from him, suddenly remembering your agency and recline back. “I think I much prefer your apathy to your misplaced concern.” The venom that jumps from you is surprising, something that was only nurtured and encouraged by Dio’s quick blows back.

“Misplaced? Oh, no,” He laughs, so beautiful that if he wasn’t so painfully arrogant you would have made it your mission to goad it out of him. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand considering ,” He gestures to the fashion magazines on the table, still chuckling like he was reprimanding a child for something so painfully obvious, “---the drivel you fill your soft head with.”

You feel hot, like a kettle on a stop ready to boil over, and after you jump to standing you begin to gather your items with fierce aggression, “You ignored me for almost a year, left my letters unreplied and now expect that you have some hand in my social life? You are either painfully arrogant or painfully stupid, Dio Brando.” You go to grab Erina’s letter, his hand snatching your wrist from across the table. Dio’s deep red eyes burn into you, and still he wears that gloating smirk although now you begin to see a vein popping from underneath his white collar. 

You smile, before continuing, “---And I am beginning to believe that you are a little of both.”

Dio’s expression wavers, his grin flickering, then sinking into something more gritted, more animal. You knew your blow hit, questioning his intelligence and defying his command, that your fingers sunk under his skin and ripped out his blind fury. For a moment the mask of a well groomed gentleman slips to something unrecognizable, and before you can really see what laid under his porcelain skin Dio snapped back to his gloating grin. 

“ See , my beloved? Is this not a prime example of your adulterous inclinations?” In his ambush you had forgotten the contents of your friend’s letter, and that briefly held triumph came crashing to the floor leaving your mouth dry and heart racing. 

“T-That.. That has nothing to do--! DIO! How dare you read my private correspondence!” The blond finally releases your wrist, expertly snatching the letter from your reach and rising to stand. When you make a futile jump at it, it only makes Dio laugh louder and raise it above your head. He towered over you, and you saw no other good reason to jump for it other than appealing to his sadistic nature of making you beg. 

Instead you sit back down. You feel flayed open, embarrassed, and confused at his sudden ambush. 

“Good girl. Now, before you insulted my intelligence I actually came here with the intention of apologizing for my distant nature. But seeing how I am ill-received at the moment, I will take myself elsewhere, perhaps where someone will appreciate it more.”

Again you are stunned, “What do you mean? This was an attempt at apologizing? You’re doing a terrible job.” 

Dio, still standing, frowns lightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the next before pacing and turning his back to you, while he faces the window looking out into the distance. “Yes, perhaps . Or perhaps you just don’t appreciate my attempt enough.”

You scowl at his back, seeing his eyes boring at you in the reflection of the dark glass, “You have yet to actually apologize for anything. I am eager to hear this attempt, fiancé .”

“No, no, I am correct when I say you don’t appreciate it.” Dio suddenly turns to you, his face glowed with an angelic sheen of vengeance. His arms open, fingers splayed he walked quickly back to your chair and before you could take a single step the devilish blond caged you back in, his arms on either side pinning you. Heat radiates from your chest, and suddenly you feel delirious from the closeness, never being this close to anyone, yet alone a man, in your entire life. You smell his mania, his sweat, his rage, his passion, and underlying it all you taste something hypnotic and ravenous. 

“---You think of nothing but yourself, you selfish woman . Have you thought about the impact your flirtatious escapades will have on my own social standing? A man, cowed , by his own wife would make a terribly wonderful lawyer, don’t you think, my love? Did you stop for a moment and consider that your actions could very well affect our engagement? No? What a pity.” The venom rolls off every word, enough to prick tears in your eyes and you can do nothing but quiver in his predatory gaze. Even in your panic, a very small part of you cannot help but notice the thick of his hands, the expanse of Dio’s tall firm body, and his beautiful features even still lovely when twisted with rage. “---I have thought about it, and I have made a decision for the better of our relationship.”

He sighs, reading your terrified and miserable expression before continuing, “I can acknowledge the power that I am able to access through you, the prestige that comes with your estate, however your father has decided to make these painfully annoying obstacles and I grow tired of them.” Dio releases his hands from the sides of the chair, still defiantly towering over you as you hang your head in his shadow, flickering from candlelight.

“Even your attempts at kindness end up cruel. I doubt this would be the life my father imagined for me if he was still here.” You cannot say it while looking at him, instead it is spoken to the folding of your hands that were twisted in the soft peach silk of your gown. 

You hear him scoff, and if you had the heart to look up you would have caught the brief flash of reconsideration before he knelt before you on one knee, ripping your hand away from the pools of silk in your lap, “I have denied you my affection, and for now on I will do so no longer. The truly difficult part of my studies have concluded, and now I can dedicate some time to planning our wedding.” Dio purrs this close to your ear, curling a long finger and pushing back the curls of your hair so you feel his hot breath against your neck. 

Something new, a spark trembles in your chest and the tears that ran freely just moments ago roll to a stop. He stays there, deeply inhaling your scent before exhaling a chuckle, and it's then you realize from the growing blush on your chest that he had been looking down the cleavage of your gown. 

“---Dio, you brute!” You push him away, secretly relishing the feel of his defined chest under your hands. The blond gives you a bemused look, before once again standing and playfully avoiding your lame attempts at knocking him over. The threatening air in the library had now dissipated, you coming back to the table to gather your items. Dio, now standing near the door simply watched you with his crimson eyes and his cunning smile. 

“I am being serious though, about Jonathan.” His voice breaks the silence, and in the dwindling light from the candles you see the shine from his eyes cut straight through you

“Hmm?” You play dumb, hopefully to write the whole thing off as a silly joke rather than accept the sinister reality. 

“That you are to end correspondence with him immediately, and he may not accompany you alone.”

“Dio, that is ridiculous, he lives here. The Joestars have graciously opened their h---”

“Mr. Joestar agrees with me. I talked with him before coming to speak with you. I knew you would object in some manner.” Dio waives his hand, almost to dismiss you and again you feel the pull of something awful curling in your belly, a foreboding warning to what lay ahead. 

Ignoring Jonathan in his own home, that was too far! But the worst part is his own father recommended it. While there was nothing scandalous in your frequent letters, a part of you longed so desperately for any affection that if he had offered you would have folded into his arms. It felt stupid, in hindsight, and you found yourself desperately wishing that Jonathan had impressed your father in some outstanding way instead of your dark prince, Dio Brando. 

“When do you graduate?” You still cannot face him, preferring to collect the papers agonizingly slow, as Dio seemed poised to escort you back to your room now that the candles had burned into a puddle. 

“My studies will be concluded in the next spring. Why do you ask?”

“When that happens, can we move then?” You look up tentatively, everything now folded into your arms as they cross over your chest. 

“Eager to leave are we? Where to?”

“--- Oh , I hadn’t considered anywhere else, I just assumed we would move into the estate once our marriage was finalized.” 

As you walk to meet him, you feel something akin to fondness painted on his features but it felt uncanny on him, like the action repulsed his very nature. “I will make you one promise, little dove. That when I have conquered my destiny and the world is mine, I will show you every beautiful thing in it.” In the moment you had swooned, your face flushing a deep red before leading the way back to your bedroom.

But in the years to come, his promise came to haunt you in the most vivid of your night terrors. 

author's note: hi. this work is posted in its entirety to AO3 and there is a playlist also! I put reader in this