Where you belong [Jojo's Bizarre Adventure - fem!Dio Brando, Jonathan Joestar]
Title: Where you belong
Fandom: Jojo's Bizzare Adventure
Characters: fem!Dio Brando (you read that right), Jonathan Joestar
Rating: NSFW
Wordcount: 3494
Warnings: pwp, het, step-incest, femdom, petplay, humiliation, a lot of fun stuff really
Notes:
1. written for the Maribingo, prompt no. 40 (a quote from "Straight White Male" by John Niven)
2. ALSO WRITTEN FOR DIOJONA TRASH LAULYTCH HI I LOVE YOU [smooch]
3. "but the're not blood-related" as if actual blood relation would stop me
4. more of a shameless self-indulgence that follows canon when it pleases than anything
5. FIRST FIC OF 2K16 HELL YEAH
Despite all her spiteful remarks over meaningless elegy of the countryside, she loved the scenery just outside the window of her bedroom. The shining green of the grass, dotted by yellows and lilacs of thousands of petals, was a pale grey under the moon’s beams, the spring sprouts on the trees threw a dark shade on the scenery that yet didn’t lose its simple beauty. It reminded her of lost times, when she and her brother would come out and play ball, or try to outrun each other, before the nanny reprimanded her “unladylike” behaviour and attempted to drag her to sewing lessons - not that she disliked them, but she had always found them boring, especially when her brother could play rugby and ride horses all he wanted while she barely learnt her way on the back of a horse, fight for the purity of his fiancée, while she wasn’t supposed to fight for herself, and she always wished to stain her pretty knuckles with someone else’s blood.
Good thing that there were two things that had helped her through the boredom of learning how to be the perfect housewife as the Empire of Queen Victoria, may God bless her, taught: the first was the open mind of her adoptive father George, a man much different from the drunken monkey she had unfortunately shared blood with, and the way he still treated her as equal as her adoptive brother, despite the treatment of her nanny. Perhaps it was his kind heart, too kind to notice her wickedness, that couldn’t bear the idea that his children would have such a different outcome in life, with his son achieving high academic results and fulfil all his dreams, and his daughter belittled for thinking and trying to express her ideas, even if she had devoured every book of anatomy, philosophy, all the scandalous poetry she could get her hands on, and was much smarter and had a pool of knowledge so vast, her brother could as well have the brain of a dog in comparison.
The second thing that helped her mind off her sad destiny of anonymity was the way she personally took revenge against it, a much different vision than the bucolic one outside, one that she took a particularly deep pleasure in, even at that very moment: the sight of Jonathan Joestar, her brother, on a leash and right under her feet. It wasn’t like she was much stronger than he, in fact he could have easily just moved his head away, undid the collar and pushed her away whenever she tried to put him in line, but the truth was he didn’t want to run away, no matter how many times he clearly claimed that no, there was no way he would do that again, and yet he always let her be his borderline incestuos mistress. It was a sweet contradiction, when she could admire a romantic panorama, sitting on a velvet armchair and barely dressed in a opened silk nightgown the same colour of blood, and he could see nothing but the dust on the floor tiles and maybe a light glimpse of her nakedness.
«Do you really think you deserve a treat, Jojo?» Diana scolded him, her fingers tracing the gentle line of her jaw. «After what you’ve did today, do you think you deserve a pat on the back?» she turned her eyes to see his reaction. When one would have expected a proper answer, Jonathan merely grunted, and a smirk arose on Diana’s lips, as she opened her legs and left the pressure off his face.
«That’s what I thought, Jojo».
His flustered face looked up to her, his messy dark hair sticking with sweat on his temples and forehead, and his expression of desire and shame was the most adorable he could have. Diana tugged the leash and Jonathan obediently crawled closer, letting her ruffle his hair. Her mouth softened in a sweeter smile, her thumbs circling his cheekbones and sliding to his mouth to open it, and said «I don’t have to explain what I want from you, do I, dear Jojo?» with a mellow whisper.
He almost answered, but instead he made a strange noise, like a soft purr, and his warm tongue lapped her wetness with the utmost care, and it became Diana’s turn to purr and let her muscles lose tension and stress, under the lovely movement of his tongue around, over and inside her. No matter how many times he felt the regret of sin curling in his stomach, corroding his soul like acid, if his Diana needed to loosen herself amid the myriads of useless tasks and under-recognition she had to bear, he would play that charade over and over again, he would be her faithful pet and obey every order of her, make her proud and satisfied. Jonathan knew there was something off about Diana, she could easily be cruel and violent without a real reason, just to make him suffer, and wasn’t their rotten relationship one of her many ways to make him miserable? At first, he was sure, that was her intention. But there was no way she wouldn’t be feeling anything else, at that point; her matronly face, always austere, was slowly recomposing into an expression of gradual bliss, locks of golden hair hiding her fire red eyes but not her lips, open to let low moans out of her chest, and her pale but not at all frail legs shivering more and more, as he licked every drop of her lust circling her clitoris, gently sucking it, sliding between her soft folds, drinking all of her nectar as if it was his disgusting and indecent drug and Diana his amoral dealer. He would degrade himself in even deeper chasms if she asked him to, and if that meant to have her caring attentions.
Her hips got tenser as the orgasm slowly built in her womb, yet her hand was firmly keeping the leash on its place, tugged enough to force Jonathan’s mouth to lick off her humours. Not that she had to, dear Jojo already knew his place between her thighs and he wished he could stay there forever where he belonged. Diana petted his dark hair, a beautiful contrast with hers, both the golden waterfall that she took a special pride in, and the small patch that his nose brushed, and murmured «Good boy»; even in her heat, she felt the smile rising on Jonathan’s lips between licks, and smiled back at him. «You really love to spoil me, don’t you, Jojo?» she asked, and he nodded with a whimper.
She fisted his hair and pulled them, not in a hurtful way, simply to see the sticky mess on his face, and couldn’t help but notice his erection was already swelling in a light shade of red and its tip shining in clear precum. She laughed and remarked «Look at your tail, Jojo! Were you so eager to be kept where you belong? You’re pathetic».
Jonathan felt his face warm with embarrassment and tried to answer «Diana, please-», but quickly his cheek was smacked and she pointed a finger against him, like a mother who had just found out the mischiefs of her child. «Have I given you the permission to talk?» she chided him, and he shook his head. She then stood up from the armchair, leaving her crimson nightgown behind, completely naked and flawless as the marble statue of a goddess, a vision that rushed Jonathan’s blood in his veins and made him drool, and with a wicked laughter she dragged him to her bed on his fours.
«Come here, Jojo» she invited him to crawl again between her legs, but in a much different position; yet as much as his muscular build overwhelmed the slender and beautiful figure, the look of flustered veneration in his blue eyes and the one in hers of lewd anticipation, still betrayed who really was in command, as if the leash wasn’t enough to show. She lied down and let him observe everything that he wanted from her and wasn’t allowed to touch until she ordered him to. «Look at you» she mocked him «you’re panting and drooling like a bitch in heat just by gazing. Do you have any self-respect at all, Jojo?». It took a lot of courage and a harsh push back of his pride to shake his head and provoke another smirk of hers and yet another pull that drew their mouths together, without caring about her aftertaste on his tongue, or anything in the whole world that could stop them, whether it be the ill-timed knock of a servant, or Jonathan’s sudden realisation of how much his soul was withering in sin. That used to happen a lot during the first months of their relationship, leaving Diana unsatisfied and Jonathan in guilty tears, but those nights were long gone, in favour of a more subtle sense of shame and a greater greed for sex.
Between their moans, Jonathan’s hands explored the familiar curves of his sister, despite the lack of permission, but she let him anyway, narcissistic as she were she couldn’t say no to such worship of her round bosom, her erotic hips and even her arse. With the shyness of a virgin he caressed her thighs and opened them wide to plunge his fingers inside her, but that prompted an annoyed grunt that made him open his eyes and face Diana’s. «Is something wrong?» he asked, but he didn’t mind the slap he received, nor her hiss «I told you not to open that cesspool without my permission, you mongrel».
«I’m sorry...».
«Instead of misbehaving, you should be a good pet and make me happy, fuck me until I lose my senses. I need your cock to stretch my cunt until I can barely walk, to fuck me so deep it’ll hurt me and make me bleed, do you hear me, Jojo?».
His cheeks a deep shade of red with all that vulgarity, he answered «Yes, ma’am».
«I can’t hear you because you’re a damned bag of fleas, and bags of fleas don’t talk!». She didn’t shout, but her tone was more than enough to show her annoyance and make Jonathan feel his stomach curl in a ball of sorry. He buried his face in her breasts to avoid her judgemental eyes and held his breath when his length met the unbearable warmness of her welcoming slit, enveloping him in a forbidden embrace. They both held their breaths as Jonathan pushed himself inside Diana, inch after inch, and he groaned against her fair skin as the tension built up at the base of his spine, urging him to lose control and screw her following his lowest instincts and make her scream, hear her voice crying his name. He instead held her close and moved slowly, sending gentle waves of pleasure all over her nerves, but she wasn’t the type for sweet love-making, she was pulling his hair and grunting «Come on, Jojo, do you call this fucking?». He would have loved to answer that he just didn’t want to hurt her, because he always ended up screwing something up or just outright wound her in the heat of the moment, yet he had once again to keep his voice in his throat and obey.
Her moans at first were controlled both in pitch and rhythm, more akin to soft whimpers in sync with his thrusts, but the more he lost his composure, the more she finally let herself lose control of her mind, her nails digging in his wide shoulders and keeping him as close as she could, arching her back to feel her walls aching in pleasure around his girth. The moment she reached her zenith she cried «Jojo! Jojooo!» and held him as a person about to drown would grip a lifesaver, with the boundless passion only a secret affair could spark, and she cried his name between gasps to catch air until his lips locked on hers and their moans, hers divine and his unnaturally guttural for a kind man like him, vibrated over their tongues. Diana’s orgasm lingered and shook her conscience, and somehow even at its peak, she felt it rise even more, to the point of such an overwhelm of sensations she almost felt nothing at all, just the white noise of her own climax.
«Jojo...» was the only thing Diana could exhale, her body suddenly lacking strength, and Jonathan let out a strangled moan with a last thrust as deep as he could, his face buried in her golden hair and his muscles relaxing all at once with his ejaculation. His arms held their bodies close and he cradled her with the care and love only a person with a core as pure as his, despite everything; he loved her with all his heart, and he only wanted to make her happy, even if that meant being treated like something less than human to pleasure her and feeling ridden with guilt the morning after as long as she would love him back, or pretend to love him back, he feared.
«Jojo...» she repeated in a whisper, caressing his nape, the stamina coming back in her body, and asked «you’ve pulled out in time, haven’t you?».
Jonathan froze at his mistake.
«… you’re still inside me, aren’t you». That wasn’t a question, she had just realised his brother was losing his excitement while still inside her. Her face of contentment turned into a mask of calm fury, and she hissed «You’ve come inside me, you mutt».
Jonathan quickly left her and put a short distance between them, even if he still knelt over the bed, and babbled «I’m sorry, Diana, I haven’t noticed-».
«Is your brain so little and rotten that you can’t understand when you’re coming, you stupid dog?». Jonathan tried to reply and tell her how sorry he was, but her hand was quicker than his mouth and smacked him right on his cheek, before pulling his hair and cruelly whispering «You’re the most disappointing mess I had to witness, you’re less than worthless, you can’t even keep your mouth shut or pull your prick out of my cunt when you must». Jonathan’s soft heart felt every insult like a scorching blade, tears formed on the corners of his eyes; Diana had to stop herself from letting her sadism arise on her mouth with a smirk, even with all that rage in herself she found the innocent reaction of Jonathan amusing.
«I have to punish you» she said in the starkest tone «Lay on your back, Jojo».
She didn’t even let him put himself in a better position, she couldn’t wait to mistreat him even more, and sat on him, with his head locked between her thighs. She showed her teeth and licked her lips, seeing Jonathan struggle for a position that didn’t hurt his back or didn’t block his nose from breathing in and out, and with another pull of hair she ordered «Lick off every drop of your spunk, you filthy bitch». Under her weight, Jonathan couldn’t but put his tongue out and drink his own sperm pouring out of her fanny, forcing himself to swallow all of the mixture and suck it with obscene and sloppy sounds, his eyes locked on Diana’s lower stomach to avert the murderous rage in hers, and his stomach a knot of guilt and newfound pressure in his groin.
«You’re revolting, Jojo» she went on insulting him «You’re nothing more than a foul beast, a disgusting bastard, eating his own cum, and loving every damned bit of it. You disgust me». Tears flowed down Jonathan’s temples, his mind excusing his acts as the result of her seduction, claiming that everything she was saying was simply the result of a soul spoilt by too much smut, and his heart, beating at a quick pace, telling him that everything she was saying was nothing but the raw truth. He could have lifted her so easily, he could have just said “no”, he should have rejected her countless times until she would have given up. Truth was, he craved her defectless body like a Venus chiseled in the purest marble, even if she was the woman he called sister and considered to be part of his family as if she truly shared the Joestars’ blood with him - maybe that was exactly the problem, the thrill of one of the worst crimes in the eyes of the public opinion and of God’s had been the spark that had dragged him into that hellish situation.
His mouth felt numb and his own aftertaste was disgusting, or perhaps it was his state of mind that altered his sense of taste. Diana stood up, leaving him breathless, just to look into her drawers, between her clothes nicely folded, and held her riding crop, an unusual old memento of her sporadic riding lessons, well-hidden from her nosey maids, with such anger her knuckles lost their already little colour they had. Her voice was a low grunt when she spoke «Turn your arse around», her anger an almost tangible dark aura that made Jonathan quiver in fear.
The first hit stang on his buttocks like a thousand needles and lingered long enough to fade, before a second harsher hit shook him, and he gritted his teeth and fisted the pillow to keep his pained grunts in. The third, however, had such an unexpected force, from someone as apparently weak as Diana, Jonathan had to gasp. The first hits weren’t as terrible as he feared, but soon enough her violent instincts controlled her hand and hurt him so vigorously to bring him at first to strangled gulps, then to irregular sobs, and in the end to an uncontrollable and ugly cry that worsened every time a new long, thin and reddish bruise formed on his flesh to join the red mess that were the back of his thighs, his buttocks and his shoulders, pulsating with unbearable pain.
«Plea-se, please, Di-Diana, let me - let me go, please, st-stop» he was babbling with a voice as broken as his body, but her anger grew only stronger, hit him harder, or maybe she didn’t hit harder, he was just too mentally exhausted to react, after all he could barely grip the sheets. He couldn’t even control his own shame, between his mouth open and drooling, and his newly erect member mindlessly enjoying the way inches and inches of his skin felt like it have been split over and over. He gasped and felt all of the air leaving his lungs, when she stopped hitting just to spread his arse and fill his hole with her crop, carefully pushing inside until he gasped again at the touch of the leather handle against that soft spot that more than anything mortified his pride, with its waves of lewd pressure and utter submission that brush after brush brought him to another climax, sobbing with that was left of his voice.
«Dear, dear, come here» she murmured with a soft-spoken voice Jonathan hadn’t heard in weeks. She took the crop out of him and gently stroked the parts of him dulled by pain, left a long trail of warm kisses on his bruises, and helped him sit holding him close. He had no strength to cry, only to listen to her heartbeat, the one of a cruel mistress, and of a tender lover. «I’ve really hurt you this time, haven’t I» she asked with a hint of remorse.
«I’m sorry...it’s my fault...» he apologised, lightly embracing her waist and burying once again his face close to her cradle.
«It’s not, Jojo, you’ve been a good boy».
«Have I?».
«The best big boy I could hope for, dear Jojo» she reassured him with a lovely placed kiss on his forehead «You didn’t have to bear all that».
«I deserved to, I disappointed you».
«Haven’t you? It’s alright, you still made your best, my dear». Her caresses were the perfect balm for his agony and sorrow, and despite her violence that couldn’t be much helped, she still had a side full of attentions for her brotherly pet, she could and would spoil him just as she could and would brutally beat him as their difference in build allowed. It was a funny image, a tall and muscular man, full of wounds, having to ease his breath in the arms of his sister, her golden hair falling on him as they cuddled and slowly let Morpheus cuddle them as well, in the innermost corner all for themselves, where to vent the frustrations of a day in their own corrupt ways. Nothing, not even the littlest thing growing, could disrupt their self-made idyll between the sheets.
Jonathan fell asleep in the place where more than anywhere else he belonged.
( Link to AO3 )
Fandom: Jojo's Bizzare Adventure
Characters: fem!Dio Brando (you read that right), Jonathan Joestar
Rating: NSFW
Wordcount: 3494
Warnings: pwp, het, step-incest, femdom, petplay, humiliation, a lot of fun stuff really
Notes:
1. written for the Maribingo, prompt no. 40 (a quote from "Straight White Male" by John Niven)
2. ALSO WRITTEN FOR DIOJONA TRASH LAULYTCH HI I LOVE YOU [smooch]
3. "but the're not blood-related" as if actual blood relation would stop me
4. more of a shameless self-indulgence that follows canon when it pleases than anything
5. FIRST FIC OF 2K16 HELL YEAH
Despite all her spiteful remarks over meaningless elegy of the countryside, she loved the scenery just outside the window of her bedroom. The shining green of the grass, dotted by yellows and lilacs of thousands of petals, was a pale grey under the moon’s beams, the spring sprouts on the trees threw a dark shade on the scenery that yet didn’t lose its simple beauty. It reminded her of lost times, when she and her brother would come out and play ball, or try to outrun each other, before the nanny reprimanded her “unladylike” behaviour and attempted to drag her to sewing lessons - not that she disliked them, but she had always found them boring, especially when her brother could play rugby and ride horses all he wanted while she barely learnt her way on the back of a horse, fight for the purity of his fiancée, while she wasn’t supposed to fight for herself, and she always wished to stain her pretty knuckles with someone else’s blood.
Good thing that there were two things that had helped her through the boredom of learning how to be the perfect housewife as the Empire of Queen Victoria, may God bless her, taught: the first was the open mind of her adoptive father George, a man much different from the drunken monkey she had unfortunately shared blood with, and the way he still treated her as equal as her adoptive brother, despite the treatment of her nanny. Perhaps it was his kind heart, too kind to notice her wickedness, that couldn’t bear the idea that his children would have such a different outcome in life, with his son achieving high academic results and fulfil all his dreams, and his daughter belittled for thinking and trying to express her ideas, even if she had devoured every book of anatomy, philosophy, all the scandalous poetry she could get her hands on, and was much smarter and had a pool of knowledge so vast, her brother could as well have the brain of a dog in comparison.
The second thing that helped her mind off her sad destiny of anonymity was the way she personally took revenge against it, a much different vision than the bucolic one outside, one that she took a particularly deep pleasure in, even at that very moment: the sight of Jonathan Joestar, her brother, on a leash and right under her feet. It wasn’t like she was much stronger than he, in fact he could have easily just moved his head away, undid the collar and pushed her away whenever she tried to put him in line, but the truth was he didn’t want to run away, no matter how many times he clearly claimed that no, there was no way he would do that again, and yet he always let her be his borderline incestuos mistress. It was a sweet contradiction, when she could admire a romantic panorama, sitting on a velvet armchair and barely dressed in a opened silk nightgown the same colour of blood, and he could see nothing but the dust on the floor tiles and maybe a light glimpse of her nakedness.
«Do you really think you deserve a treat, Jojo?» Diana scolded him, her fingers tracing the gentle line of her jaw. «After what you’ve did today, do you think you deserve a pat on the back?» she turned her eyes to see his reaction. When one would have expected a proper answer, Jonathan merely grunted, and a smirk arose on Diana’s lips, as she opened her legs and left the pressure off his face.
«That’s what I thought, Jojo».
His flustered face looked up to her, his messy dark hair sticking with sweat on his temples and forehead, and his expression of desire and shame was the most adorable he could have. Diana tugged the leash and Jonathan obediently crawled closer, letting her ruffle his hair. Her mouth softened in a sweeter smile, her thumbs circling his cheekbones and sliding to his mouth to open it, and said «I don’t have to explain what I want from you, do I, dear Jojo?» with a mellow whisper.
He almost answered, but instead he made a strange noise, like a soft purr, and his warm tongue lapped her wetness with the utmost care, and it became Diana’s turn to purr and let her muscles lose tension and stress, under the lovely movement of his tongue around, over and inside her. No matter how many times he felt the regret of sin curling in his stomach, corroding his soul like acid, if his Diana needed to loosen herself amid the myriads of useless tasks and under-recognition she had to bear, he would play that charade over and over again, he would be her faithful pet and obey every order of her, make her proud and satisfied. Jonathan knew there was something off about Diana, she could easily be cruel and violent without a real reason, just to make him suffer, and wasn’t their rotten relationship one of her many ways to make him miserable? At first, he was sure, that was her intention. But there was no way she wouldn’t be feeling anything else, at that point; her matronly face, always austere, was slowly recomposing into an expression of gradual bliss, locks of golden hair hiding her fire red eyes but not her lips, open to let low moans out of her chest, and her pale but not at all frail legs shivering more and more, as he licked every drop of her lust circling her clitoris, gently sucking it, sliding between her soft folds, drinking all of her nectar as if it was his disgusting and indecent drug and Diana his amoral dealer. He would degrade himself in even deeper chasms if she asked him to, and if that meant to have her caring attentions.
Her hips got tenser as the orgasm slowly built in her womb, yet her hand was firmly keeping the leash on its place, tugged enough to force Jonathan’s mouth to lick off her humours. Not that she had to, dear Jojo already knew his place between her thighs and he wished he could stay there forever where he belonged. Diana petted his dark hair, a beautiful contrast with hers, both the golden waterfall that she took a special pride in, and the small patch that his nose brushed, and murmured «Good boy»; even in her heat, she felt the smile rising on Jonathan’s lips between licks, and smiled back at him. «You really love to spoil me, don’t you, Jojo?» she asked, and he nodded with a whimper.
She fisted his hair and pulled them, not in a hurtful way, simply to see the sticky mess on his face, and couldn’t help but notice his erection was already swelling in a light shade of red and its tip shining in clear precum. She laughed and remarked «Look at your tail, Jojo! Were you so eager to be kept where you belong? You’re pathetic».
Jonathan felt his face warm with embarrassment and tried to answer «Diana, please-», but quickly his cheek was smacked and she pointed a finger against him, like a mother who had just found out the mischiefs of her child. «Have I given you the permission to talk?» she chided him, and he shook his head. She then stood up from the armchair, leaving her crimson nightgown behind, completely naked and flawless as the marble statue of a goddess, a vision that rushed Jonathan’s blood in his veins and made him drool, and with a wicked laughter she dragged him to her bed on his fours.
«Come here, Jojo» she invited him to crawl again between her legs, but in a much different position; yet as much as his muscular build overwhelmed the slender and beautiful figure, the look of flustered veneration in his blue eyes and the one in hers of lewd anticipation, still betrayed who really was in command, as if the leash wasn’t enough to show. She lied down and let him observe everything that he wanted from her and wasn’t allowed to touch until she ordered him to. «Look at you» she mocked him «you’re panting and drooling like a bitch in heat just by gazing. Do you have any self-respect at all, Jojo?». It took a lot of courage and a harsh push back of his pride to shake his head and provoke another smirk of hers and yet another pull that drew their mouths together, without caring about her aftertaste on his tongue, or anything in the whole world that could stop them, whether it be the ill-timed knock of a servant, or Jonathan’s sudden realisation of how much his soul was withering in sin. That used to happen a lot during the first months of their relationship, leaving Diana unsatisfied and Jonathan in guilty tears, but those nights were long gone, in favour of a more subtle sense of shame and a greater greed for sex.
Between their moans, Jonathan’s hands explored the familiar curves of his sister, despite the lack of permission, but she let him anyway, narcissistic as she were she couldn’t say no to such worship of her round bosom, her erotic hips and even her arse. With the shyness of a virgin he caressed her thighs and opened them wide to plunge his fingers inside her, but that prompted an annoyed grunt that made him open his eyes and face Diana’s. «Is something wrong?» he asked, but he didn’t mind the slap he received, nor her hiss «I told you not to open that cesspool without my permission, you mongrel».
«I’m sorry...».
«Instead of misbehaving, you should be a good pet and make me happy, fuck me until I lose my senses. I need your cock to stretch my cunt until I can barely walk, to fuck me so deep it’ll hurt me and make me bleed, do you hear me, Jojo?».
His cheeks a deep shade of red with all that vulgarity, he answered «Yes, ma’am».
«I can’t hear you because you’re a damned bag of fleas, and bags of fleas don’t talk!». She didn’t shout, but her tone was more than enough to show her annoyance and make Jonathan feel his stomach curl in a ball of sorry. He buried his face in her breasts to avoid her judgemental eyes and held his breath when his length met the unbearable warmness of her welcoming slit, enveloping him in a forbidden embrace. They both held their breaths as Jonathan pushed himself inside Diana, inch after inch, and he groaned against her fair skin as the tension built up at the base of his spine, urging him to lose control and screw her following his lowest instincts and make her scream, hear her voice crying his name. He instead held her close and moved slowly, sending gentle waves of pleasure all over her nerves, but she wasn’t the type for sweet love-making, she was pulling his hair and grunting «Come on, Jojo, do you call this fucking?». He would have loved to answer that he just didn’t want to hurt her, because he always ended up screwing something up or just outright wound her in the heat of the moment, yet he had once again to keep his voice in his throat and obey.
Her moans at first were controlled both in pitch and rhythm, more akin to soft whimpers in sync with his thrusts, but the more he lost his composure, the more she finally let herself lose control of her mind, her nails digging in his wide shoulders and keeping him as close as she could, arching her back to feel her walls aching in pleasure around his girth. The moment she reached her zenith she cried «Jojo! Jojooo!» and held him as a person about to drown would grip a lifesaver, with the boundless passion only a secret affair could spark, and she cried his name between gasps to catch air until his lips locked on hers and their moans, hers divine and his unnaturally guttural for a kind man like him, vibrated over their tongues. Diana’s orgasm lingered and shook her conscience, and somehow even at its peak, she felt it rise even more, to the point of such an overwhelm of sensations she almost felt nothing at all, just the white noise of her own climax.
«Jojo...» was the only thing Diana could exhale, her body suddenly lacking strength, and Jonathan let out a strangled moan with a last thrust as deep as he could, his face buried in her golden hair and his muscles relaxing all at once with his ejaculation. His arms held their bodies close and he cradled her with the care and love only a person with a core as pure as his, despite everything; he loved her with all his heart, and he only wanted to make her happy, even if that meant being treated like something less than human to pleasure her and feeling ridden with guilt the morning after as long as she would love him back, or pretend to love him back, he feared.
«Jojo...» she repeated in a whisper, caressing his nape, the stamina coming back in her body, and asked «you’ve pulled out in time, haven’t you?».
Jonathan froze at his mistake.
«… you’re still inside me, aren’t you». That wasn’t a question, she had just realised his brother was losing his excitement while still inside her. Her face of contentment turned into a mask of calm fury, and she hissed «You’ve come inside me, you mutt».
Jonathan quickly left her and put a short distance between them, even if he still knelt over the bed, and babbled «I’m sorry, Diana, I haven’t noticed-».
«Is your brain so little and rotten that you can’t understand when you’re coming, you stupid dog?». Jonathan tried to reply and tell her how sorry he was, but her hand was quicker than his mouth and smacked him right on his cheek, before pulling his hair and cruelly whispering «You’re the most disappointing mess I had to witness, you’re less than worthless, you can’t even keep your mouth shut or pull your prick out of my cunt when you must». Jonathan’s soft heart felt every insult like a scorching blade, tears formed on the corners of his eyes; Diana had to stop herself from letting her sadism arise on her mouth with a smirk, even with all that rage in herself she found the innocent reaction of Jonathan amusing.
«I have to punish you» she said in the starkest tone «Lay on your back, Jojo».
She didn’t even let him put himself in a better position, she couldn’t wait to mistreat him even more, and sat on him, with his head locked between her thighs. She showed her teeth and licked her lips, seeing Jonathan struggle for a position that didn’t hurt his back or didn’t block his nose from breathing in and out, and with another pull of hair she ordered «Lick off every drop of your spunk, you filthy bitch». Under her weight, Jonathan couldn’t but put his tongue out and drink his own sperm pouring out of her fanny, forcing himself to swallow all of the mixture and suck it with obscene and sloppy sounds, his eyes locked on Diana’s lower stomach to avert the murderous rage in hers, and his stomach a knot of guilt and newfound pressure in his groin.
«You’re revolting, Jojo» she went on insulting him «You’re nothing more than a foul beast, a disgusting bastard, eating his own cum, and loving every damned bit of it. You disgust me». Tears flowed down Jonathan’s temples, his mind excusing his acts as the result of her seduction, claiming that everything she was saying was simply the result of a soul spoilt by too much smut, and his heart, beating at a quick pace, telling him that everything she was saying was nothing but the raw truth. He could have lifted her so easily, he could have just said “no”, he should have rejected her countless times until she would have given up. Truth was, he craved her defectless body like a Venus chiseled in the purest marble, even if she was the woman he called sister and considered to be part of his family as if she truly shared the Joestars’ blood with him - maybe that was exactly the problem, the thrill of one of the worst crimes in the eyes of the public opinion and of God’s had been the spark that had dragged him into that hellish situation.
His mouth felt numb and his own aftertaste was disgusting, or perhaps it was his state of mind that altered his sense of taste. Diana stood up, leaving him breathless, just to look into her drawers, between her clothes nicely folded, and held her riding crop, an unusual old memento of her sporadic riding lessons, well-hidden from her nosey maids, with such anger her knuckles lost their already little colour they had. Her voice was a low grunt when she spoke «Turn your arse around», her anger an almost tangible dark aura that made Jonathan quiver in fear.
The first hit stang on his buttocks like a thousand needles and lingered long enough to fade, before a second harsher hit shook him, and he gritted his teeth and fisted the pillow to keep his pained grunts in. The third, however, had such an unexpected force, from someone as apparently weak as Diana, Jonathan had to gasp. The first hits weren’t as terrible as he feared, but soon enough her violent instincts controlled her hand and hurt him so vigorously to bring him at first to strangled gulps, then to irregular sobs, and in the end to an uncontrollable and ugly cry that worsened every time a new long, thin and reddish bruise formed on his flesh to join the red mess that were the back of his thighs, his buttocks and his shoulders, pulsating with unbearable pain.
«Plea-se, please, Di-Diana, let me - let me go, please, st-stop» he was babbling with a voice as broken as his body, but her anger grew only stronger, hit him harder, or maybe she didn’t hit harder, he was just too mentally exhausted to react, after all he could barely grip the sheets. He couldn’t even control his own shame, between his mouth open and drooling, and his newly erect member mindlessly enjoying the way inches and inches of his skin felt like it have been split over and over. He gasped and felt all of the air leaving his lungs, when she stopped hitting just to spread his arse and fill his hole with her crop, carefully pushing inside until he gasped again at the touch of the leather handle against that soft spot that more than anything mortified his pride, with its waves of lewd pressure and utter submission that brush after brush brought him to another climax, sobbing with that was left of his voice.
«Dear, dear, come here» she murmured with a soft-spoken voice Jonathan hadn’t heard in weeks. She took the crop out of him and gently stroked the parts of him dulled by pain, left a long trail of warm kisses on his bruises, and helped him sit holding him close. He had no strength to cry, only to listen to her heartbeat, the one of a cruel mistress, and of a tender lover. «I’ve really hurt you this time, haven’t I» she asked with a hint of remorse.
«I’m sorry...it’s my fault...» he apologised, lightly embracing her waist and burying once again his face close to her cradle.
«It’s not, Jojo, you’ve been a good boy».
«Have I?».
«The best big boy I could hope for, dear Jojo» she reassured him with a lovely placed kiss on his forehead «You didn’t have to bear all that».
«I deserved to, I disappointed you».
«Haven’t you? It’s alright, you still made your best, my dear». Her caresses were the perfect balm for his agony and sorrow, and despite her violence that couldn’t be much helped, she still had a side full of attentions for her brotherly pet, she could and would spoil him just as she could and would brutally beat him as their difference in build allowed. It was a funny image, a tall and muscular man, full of wounds, having to ease his breath in the arms of his sister, her golden hair falling on him as they cuddled and slowly let Morpheus cuddle them as well, in the innermost corner all for themselves, where to vent the frustrations of a day in their own corrupt ways. Nothing, not even the littlest thing growing, could disrupt their self-made idyll between the sheets.
Jonathan fell asleep in the place where more than anywhere else he belonged.
( Link to AO3 )