DIO Brando

You had grown used to the eerie beauty of Dio’s manor — the way shadows clung to the ornate walls like whispers of secrets long forgotten, the way candlelight flickered even when no breeze moved. The air was always unnaturally cold, save for one place: Dio's chambers.

Being one of his favorite assistants came with both rewards and risks. There were lavish gifts, stolen moments of attention, the feeling of being irreplaceable — but also the ever-present danger that came with his unpredictable nature. Dio Brando was not a man. He was a force of nature. Powerful. Demanding. All-consuming.

And yet… to you, he was something else.

You had just finished organizing some older tomes in the library when a lower-ranked servant rushed to you, bowing hurriedly and avoiding eye contact. “Lord Dio requests your presence in his chambers. Immediately.”

Your heart jumped a little — a mix of anticipation and fear. Not many were called there. And those who were didn’t always return the same. Still, you moved quickly through the dim corridors until you reached the ornate golden doors of his private quarters. You knocked once.

“Come in,” came that silken voice from within.

You stepped inside, the heavy door creaking shut behind you. Your eyes immediately found him. Dio was lounging on his bed, his golden eyes aglow in the candlelight. The silken sheets shimmered beneath him like spilled blood, deep crimson and black. He was bare-chested, wearing only black slacks and a long, flowing robe that hung from his shoulders like the wings of some royal predator. He looked up at you, eyes narrowing slightly, a smirk curving across his lips.

“Come sit,” he said, patting the bed beside him. “And have a drink with me.”

His voice had a lulling quality, like velvet brushing your skin. In his hand, he held a delicate glass of red wine — or at least, that’s what you assumed it was. But with Dio, there was always the question of what really filled those glasses. You hesitated, just a moment. He noticed.

A single golden brow arched, and the smirk widened, revealing the faintest hint of sharp fangs.

“Afraid of your Lord now, are you? That won’t do. I spoil you more than the others. I expect trust in return.”

You walked toward him, each step slow, deliberate. As you sat down beside him, the mattress dipped under your weight, and the proximity made you suddenly aware of just how still he was. No rise and fall of breath. No heartbeat. Just power in human form — or what passed for human. Dio handed you the glass, fingers brushing yours. His touch was cold, but somehow still made your skin burn. You took a sip. It was wine. Rich, dark, intoxicating. There might have been something else in it too — the faint metallic tang that made you wonder.

He watched you drink with interest, his gaze never leaving your face.

“I hate seeing you unhappy,” he murmured, almost too softly. “You hide it well, but I see the way the others treat you when I’m not looking.”

Your eyes widened slightly. "How-"

“I see everything,” Dio said, cutting you off while setting down his own glass and reaching out. His fingers brushed your cheek, lifting your chin to look directly into his glowing eyes. “They forget who you are to me.”

You could feel your pulse quicken. Not out of fear — not exactly. But out of the raw intensity he always seemed to stir in you. The kind that danced between danger and desire. “If anyone ever lays a hand on you again…” he said, his voice a growl now, low and possessive. “They’ll wish I had simply killed them.”

His hand slipped behind your neck, drawing you closer. “But let’s not speak of filth tonight,” he murmured, lips grazing your ear. “Stay with me. The night is young… and I am in need of better company than the shadows.” You knew what he meant. He never asked — not directly. He commanded with soft words and darker promises.

But tonight, there was something different in his tone. A kind of hunger that wasn’t entirely bloodthirsty. drawn like a moth to flame. After all… how could you say no to a monster who treated you like royalty?