Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3418559.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ジョジョの奇妙な冒険_|_JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_|_JoJo's_Bizarre_Adventure
  Relationship:
      Dio_Brando/Jonathan_Joestar
  Character:
      Dio_Brando, Jonathan_Joestar
  Additional Tags:
      Hurt/Comfort, Established_Underage_Relationship, Torture, Abduction,
      Animal_Ears, Animal_Traits, Alternate_Universe_-_Alice_in_Wonderland,
      Possessive_Behavior, Child_Abuse
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-23 Words: 3469
****** How Doth the Guileless Rabbit ******
by j7j
Summary
     The King of Heart's favorite pet has been missing for weeks. The King
     has done everything short of searching himself -- and he has not put
     off that option entirely. It should be a relief then, that the White
     Rabbit returns on his own, but the sorry condition he crawls back in
     means that blood will be had.
Notes
     Yeah, you should carefully examine the additional tags before going
     into this fic because there's a high probability it is not your cup
     of tea. For those of you uncomfortable with the underage, do not
     fret! I am also entertaining a Dio and young Jonathan plotbunny where
     Dio does get to play the role of parent. This fic was written for a
     friend with an Alice in Wonderland fetish but let's be real, I
     wouldn't write something I didn't want to read.
     Ah, a final warning: if you're a fan of Rubber Soul, this fic isn't
     for you, sorry!
How doth the guileless rabbit
Harden his soft heart?
By venturing out of the castle
And doing his own part!
How quickly does he run back and
How tearfully he does fall
And begs forgiveness from the king --
A fool at his beck and call!
---
When Jonathan finally reaches the citadel, his clothes are in tatters. His hair
is matted and the fur on his tail and ears are more white than gray. He is a
mess of sweat and tears. The guards are used enough to him; they let him run
through the front gates and straight into the throne room.
Dio lets his favorite subject grovel on hands and knees for a while, leaning
against his throne and admiring how cutely the boy's tail quivered. He snaps
his fingers and the doors and windows slam shut as he makes his way down the
steps. Jonathan is so small, Dio can pluck him off the ground with one hand.
Predictably, there are tears in his eyes. Dio adjusts his hold, cradling the
boy with both arms, before seating himself back down.
"My poor Jojo," he coos, nuzzling the boy's neck, "Tell me, how was the outside
world?"
With a keening wail, Jonathan turns around and throws his arms around Dio's
neck. Dio lets him cry for a bit. He combs his fingers through the boy's dirty
hair in the meantime.
After some time, Jonathan quiets down. Although his grip slackens, he fails to
relinguish it entirely, choosing instead to bury his face in the crook of Dio's
neck. Dio tilts his head in turn, brushing his cheek against Jonathan's folded
upper ears.
"You smell," he says, wrinkling his nose. "You should go to the baths."
Jonathan tightens his grip, violently shaking his head, rabbit ears brushing
against Dio's nose.
Dio sighs, combing a hand through his own hair. When he stands for a second
time, Jonathan panicks, wildly flailing his arms and legs.
"I don't want to -- "
"Quiet, child," Dio hushes, unlocking the door which led to his private
chambers. As Jonathan will not stop trembling, he sacks his original plan of
handing the boy off to butler. "Stop trembling," he instructs, "You have
nothing to fear for I, Dio, will clean you."
"No!" Jonathan screams. He attempts to jump to the ground. Dio doesn't let him
of course, grabbing the boy's waist in one hand and his small scrabbling wrists
in the other before dragging him to the baths.
For extra precaution, Dio bars the doors before letting Jonathan down.
"Now," he says, letting the tap run before shrugging off his own top, "Will you
come into the tub on your own?"
"I don't want a bath," Jonathan insists, clutching at his tattered garments.
"Want is irrelevant," Dio sniffs, "I will not have you smelling like the
outside world in my castle, therefore you will take a bath." He kneels down and
reaches for Jonathan's top. The boy gives an unholy shriek, batting Dio's hand
away (it moves a centimeter) before bringing his legs to his chest. He curls
himself into a sad little ball, upper ears still folded against his head.
Dio frowns. Although he had not sent a guard after the boy, he had issued a
proclamation throughout the continent. The proclamation had said that the boy
with white rabbit ears was a charge of the King of Hearts and that any damage
done to him would be returned tenfold. So he had had confidence that Jonathan
would return to him free of injuries.
He reaches out a hand, gently stroking the boy's head.
"Jojo," he murmurs, opening his arms and holding the other close, "You are home
now. There is nothing to be scared of here."
And still, Jonathan holds onto his knees and shoulders, resolutely shaking his
head.
The vein above Dio's left eye throbs. It had been trying enough to wait weeks
for the child's return, but to be greeted with insolence no less? This was one
of the reasons he had been against Jojo leaving in the first place -- no doubt
he had told his story to some simple-minded villager who thought themselves the
be-all end-all to the child's problems. Dio is tempted to use a mind-control
spore, just to get Jojo undressed and into the half-full bathtub. He refrains
of course, Jonathan did not react well to being possessed. The last time Dio
had tried it, the boy had been bedridden for a week.
He makes a clicking noise in the back of his throat, irritated at the lack of
options.
"Jojo," he starts again, stepping back, standing up, and crossing his arms, "I
have already explained to you why you need a bath. Now, you either undress
yourself and get into the bathtub, or I will do so for you." He pauses, staring
at the boy's trembling ears, before adding: "You have five seconds to decide."
Dio begins a countdown, and it is only on the last syllable of 'one thousand'
that Jonathan uncurls himself.
With jerky movements and a pointedly averted gaze, the boy unbuttons his shirt,
undoing the clips of his suspenders before slipping out of his shorts and
underwear. It is only when he removes his shirt and walks to the bathtub that
Dio sees red.
In the blink of an eye, the water is turned off and he towers before the boy.
"Jojo," he growls, eyes flashing and voice low, "Who did this to you?"
Jonathan freezes and his lower lip trembles. He tries to skirt to the left of
the King of Hearts but Dio grabs his shoulder, dropping onto his haunches to
examine the boy's back.
"It's nothing," Jonathan whispers. "I just -- tripped."
The angry red marks criss-crossed against his back scream of coming scars. Of
this Dio is certain: there will be blood.
He closes his eyes and counts to ten, forcing his eyes to revert to their
normal state. Then, with measured motions, he lifts Jonathan into the tub. When
the warm water covers his wounds, Jonathan winces. Dio feigns ignorance,
grabbing the bottle of shampoo and squirting some into his hands. Jonathan
obediently squeezes his eyes shut, allowing Dio to work the shampoo into a
lather.
After he's washed Jonathan's hair and ears, he motions for the boy to stand up.
As he runs the bar of soap across Jonathan's body, covering the boy in suds,
the crease in his brow deepens further at Jonathan's crying out. It is a
necessary pain, the boy understands. It is a wonder his wounds had not become
infected. Judging by how some of them had not scabbed over, it was clear he had
been whipped on two separate occasions at the least. The rips and tears in his
clothes, as well as the state of his psyche are not without reason, then.
Even when he's rinsing the soap suds from Jonathan's skin, Dio does not speak.
One small victory, at least, is that by the end of the bath, Jonathan's ears
have returned to their upright state. His mannerisms are more normal: he
squirms when Dio lifts him out of the bathtub and giggles when Dio is wrapping
him in half-a-dozen towels.
Dio hefts the mass of cotton onto his shoulder, unbarring the door and carrying
Jonathan into his bedroom. He sets the boy down on the bed, rummaging in his
drawers for a blowdryer. He sits himself cross-legged on the bed and Jonathan
crawls into his lap without prompting.
After Jonathan's hair and ears are warm and dry, Dio hands him his underwear
with a custom-fitted tail hole. Dio dries the boy's tail as well, carefully
bandaging up his back before tucking him into bed. Although he wants nothing
more than to rip the bastard's throat out, Jonathan evidently wants him to
stay. And so Dio stays, slipping between the sheets and pulling out a kid-
friendly tome. Jonathan is already yawning, heavy eyelids and sleepy smile, and
by the time Dio finishes the chapter, the boy is curled up and asleep.
He strokes Jonathan's cheek with the back of his hand, rubbing the soft furry
ear between finger and thumb. Jonathan squirms, snuggling closer, and Dio
kisses his brow.
Instead of returning to the throne room, he remains in the doorway, muttering
the name of his most faithful servant at a volume barely above a whisper.
Vanilla Ice appears within seconds, dropping to a reverent kneel.
Dio clicks his tongue, irritated, and the other man quickly stands to
attention.
"Someone," Dio starts, still speaking at a murderously low volume, "Has covered
his back with lashes." He moves his hand, missing Vanilla's face by
millimeters, and digs his fingers into a chunk of wall. He throws the scraps of
marble to the side, eyes bleeding into red again. "I want you to find me the
son of a bitch responsible."
"Consider it done," Vanilla murmurs, dipping his head and stepping back.
Dio takes a couple steadying breaths, easing his vision back to normal.
"Ah, Vanilla," he adds, remembering his servant's protective streak, "You are
to bring him back in one piece. Any damage dealt upon him will come from I,
Dio."
"Understood," Vanilla faithfully replies. He sinks into the shadows,
doubtlessly merging with Cream, and Dio goes back into the bedroom, crawling
under the sheets and holding Jonathan close.
The following week is especially trying. Although Dio goes out of his way to
spoil Jonathan, showering him with newly-tailored clothes and sugary
confections and colorful picture books, Jonathan, likewise, goes out of his way
to avoid Dio. It becomes particularly frustrating when Dio, intent on eating
dinner with his favorite, finds that Jonathan has already eaten -- and with the
maids, no less! The strain on his temper and tongue is exacerbated by Vanilla
Ice's absence. While he has no doubts his servant is tracking down the guilty
party, the fact that it's taking so long only adds to Dio's ire.
Ten days pass with the servants seeing more of the King's favorite than the
King of Hearts himself and Dio is moments away from tracking down the bastard
and then dragging Jonathan back into his bed (as it seemed to be the only way
the boy would be anywhere near him nowadays) when Vanilla Ice, in his steadfast
fidelity, blows past the entrance hall and into the throne room, dragging with
him a very familiar defector.
"Your Highness," Vanilla Ice announces, pulling the rucksack from the man's
face, "The villagers in the badlands reported the White Rabbit fleeing from
this man's house."
As per Dio's instructions, Vanilla Ice has not touched a hair on the suspect's
head.
Dio gets off of his throne and walks towards the guilty party, leaning down to
cup the man's chin.
"Rubber Soul," he addresses, "This is the second... no, third, time you have
disobeyed my orders."
"Fuck you, you bastard king!" Rubber Soul spits. His vitriol is interrupted by
Dio's fist connecting against his jaw. Dio sends him flying, but not at full
force.
"Well?" he prompts, "Is that all you have to say for yourself?"
Like a man approaching the guillotine, Rubber Soul sees his fate set in stone.
At it is, he curls his lips into a sneer, using Yellow Temperance to change his
face. Dio has already suspected; now understanding hits him like a brick.
Rubber only laughs, making no effort to pick himself up off the floor.
"I always wondered what you saw in him," the other man has the gall to say.
"But now I know. Your Highness, you've trained him to be such a good little -
- "
He is interrupted a second time by Vanilla Ice kicking his stomach in.
"My apologies," Vanilla says, bowing low.
"Say nothing of it and leave us be," Dio replies, snapping his fingers. Vanilla
bows a second time, closing the door behind him.
Vanilla's kick seems to have robbed Rubber of his bravado. As it is, he is a
trembling bone-broken heap before Dio.
Delicately, Dio circles him, golden heels click-clacking against the alabaster
floor.
"Do you know," he begins conversationally, "That though I had no claim to this
throne, the title of 'King of Hearts' did not exist before me?" He motions to
his accessories, "I know what you are thinking. That my sobriquet is a result
of the gaudy pieces, I, Dio am famous for wearing." He stops in front of the
hunched-over man, tapping his foot. "That is not the case, of course. My title
was given in recognition for how I obtained the throne."
He sinks to Rubber's level then, revealing an utterly bored expression.
"I could gag you," he admits. "I could even cut off your tongue. But I won't of
course. This is because I want you to scream. And I want your death to be a
lesson. Monkeys should not think they can take from a king without
consequence."
Dio continues his monologue throughout the torture, casually conversing on a
wide variety of subjects ranging from immortality to the duties of kingship to
that one spectacular blood splatter Rubber's left eye made. Unfortunately,
Rubber Soul's screams drown him out. He starts screaming when Dio pulls his
knife from its scabbard and does not stop until Dio throws his significantly-
lighter body into a specially constructed room filled with wasps.
Afterwards, he makes sure to take out the defector's heart. Vanilla is in-
charge of disposal: he is the one who hangs the limbless swollen corpse from
the citadel gates, going on to include a helpful placard detailing the reason
behind the man's execution.
With one thorn out of his side, Dio heads to the bath, washing the muck and
grime from his skin. Two hours later, he steps out clad in a plush bathrobe and
wanders the hallways in search of a servant to fetch Jonathan to him. Instead
of a servant, he finds the aforementioned child curled up in his old bedroom, a
cozy floral room with stuffed animals overflowing from the shelves. After some
internal debate, Dio crosses the threshold, stepping into the room. He does not
go to Jonathan however, ambling instead over to the stuffed animal collection.
In his youth, he had not bothered with them. They were foibles for the rich;
his money were spent entirely on food. (And even then, he remembers going
hungry.) Jonathan is not the same of course, being an only child and the crown
prince to a kingdom. His widowed father had spoiled him silly; there were
enough toys in this room to make up a zoo. Dio can remember ingratiating
himself with the court, coming to power with the old king's untimely death.
Killing Jonathan would have solidified his rule, as would taking on a mistress.
But somehow or another, the boy had managed to entrench himself in Dio -- so
much so that Dio had nearly forsaken the kingdom in favor of searching for him
in the weeks-long absence.
With a moan, Jonathan stirs, upper ears springing to life.
"Dio...?" he murmurs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Dio turns, staring at his charge of three years for a long while. Jonathan
readily returns his gaze, the only one in the kingdom able (and allowed) to
maintain eye contact. He tilts his head, questioning, and Dio extends his hand,
ruffling the boy's bangs.
"Be at ease," he says, running his thumb across the boy's forehead, "The
impostor has been dealt with."
The irony is lost on Jonathan, but he does lean into the touch. He catches
himself quickly however, flushing bright red and pulling back.
With effort, Dio reminds himself that Rubber Soul had already been paid in full
for his crimes. He has waited weeks for Jonathan's return; he can wait a couple
days more. Right as he's retracting his hand, Jonathan stammers out a 'wait'.
He pushes himself to his feet, standing on tip-toes atop the bed, and presses
hands on Dio's shoulders, leaning in for a light peck.
Jonathan's ears are quivering.
It is only through immense self-restraint that Dio refrains from tackling the
boy onto the bed. He does, however, embrace him fully and spin them around so
that Jonathan was facing the bed. In the blink of an eye, Jonathan is seated
halfway in his lap, thighs wedged apart courtesy of Dio's knee.
"My sweet Jojo," Dio laughs, chest rumbling with mirth, "You should have told
me you missed me."
"That's not --" his halfhearted denial is cut off by Dio's hand slipping
underneath his sweater, Dio's fingers digging into his thigh, and Dio's mouth,
lapping lustfully his neck. Jonathan leans against Dio, tilting his head back
and allowing the other to kiss him. He's wriggling out of his shirt soon
enough, mouth helplessly hung open and eyes half-lidded. Dio's fingers skirt
the edges of his shorts, teasing like usual. Jonathan moans again, grinding his
backside on Dio's knee.
"Mmm..." Dio purrs, appreciating how his hand is large enough to stroke both
nipples at once, "Eager, aren't we?"
And Jonathan is -- more eager than normal, certainly -- but also sweating and
panting and thrusting his hips, leaking prick making a mess through his shorts,
and ears practically folded about his face.
"No, no," Dio tsks, licking at his cheek. He strokes the base of the rabbit
ear, causing Jonathan to gasp and more importantly, reveal his face. "I've
decided on a proper punishment, you know," he smiles, tugging on the cotton-
white tail.
Jonathan mewls, eyes rolling back with pleasure.
"Hm?" the King teases, thumbing the bundle of nerves nestled at the center of
the fur, "Don't you want to know what it is?" He bites down gently on
Jonathan's human ear, running his tongue on the tender spot behind.
"No..." Jonathan gasps, pushing his bottom against Dio's hand, "Please, stop -
- stop teasing...!"
"But you look cute like this," Dio sing-songs, shamelessly continuing his
ministrations. "Look at how sensitive your tail is, how hard and wet you
already are!" He kisses Jonathan's cheek, lips curved into a smile, "My
adorable white rabbit, I should keep you in a cage and feed you nothing but
carrots and cock."
"No," the White Rabbit repeats. His fingers wrap around Dio's hand, bringing
them towards his prick. Dio hums, fingers lazily scratching the growing
wetness. "Dio," Jonathan whines, "Dio please."
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Dio murmurs, deftly unbuttoning Jonathan's
shorts while continuing to thumb and squeeze his tail. "Look at you, so starved
for my touch," he cants his own hips for emphasis, "Now that I've freed your
prick, I bet I can make you come without touching it."
If Jonathan were in any other state of mind, he likely would have thrown a
tantrum. As it is, he lolls his head in anguish, thrusting backwards to meet
the only source of stimulation.
It is as Dio says: Jonathan does manage to come from touches (tugs, tweaks, and
taps) on his tail alone. He cries out his king's name, come splattering over
his old bedsheets, and Dio finally presses his fingers against Jonathan's
member, prolonging his climax with delicate fingertips.
Afterwards, Jonathan shimmies out of his lower garments and Dio rolls out of
his bathrobe. Jonathan then slides between Dio's thighs, pressing a light kiss
to the tip of his cock. It is Dio's turn to be teased then, as the King finds
his favorite wringing yet another white-out orgasm from him. They roll about on
the still-spacious bed for some time, kissing and necking and petting. Even
without the additional trauma, six weeks is a long time to be without.
"I was scared," Jonathan quietly admits. "That that was the real you."
"How foolish," Dio mutters in-reply, patting his cheek. He pauses, and then
asks: "Have you had your fill of the outside world?"
"Mm," Jonathan snuggles closer, nodding emphatically, "I never want to leave
again!"
Dio laughs again, recognizing hyperbole on sight.
"I'm sure you'll be running outside soon enough."
Later, when he's relocating them to his bedroom, Jonathan is curled up in his
chest, rabbit ears pressed against his cheek. He's not sleeping however, and
when Dio eases them both onto the bed, Jonathan rolls over, clinging onto Dio's
neck.
And so it is that Dio catches up on the recent happenstances, vision partially
obscured by the pair of large white ears.
"Jojo," he says, giving up after fifteen pages.
"Hm?" the boy mumbles. His nose is pressed into Dio's throat.
Dio sighs, turning off the lights. He slides forward and leans back, shifting
slightly to allow Jonathan the opportunity to rearrange his arms. Although he
doesn't say anything, Jojo evidently understands. He somehow manages to grab
Dio's earring in the dark, tweaking the King of Hearts' ear in return.
"I missed you too," he murmurs.
"Shhh," Dio hushes, stroking the bandages on the boy's back, "Sleep."
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