#cioccolata x reader
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hii so I’m a little shy with requests but could you do a team bucciarati or la unita (your pick) x child!reader who basically has a super powerful stand but they are completely oblivious to it? Like I could imagine them trying to inform reader and readers just like “I like flowers and ice cream : )”
Okay but this is such a great idea-
La Unita x Oblivious Child Reader
Okay, how did this happen??
The main reason, they took you in because of your stand
It's not every day you meet someone with THAT MUCH potential
Plus your powers were supposed to help the boss himself
So yeah, you were supposed to be quite useful
The problem is, you don't really care about any of this "ohmygod you have such a powerful stand" stuff
Nuh uh, not even a little
Understandable, you are a child after all
In your defence, whatever you like doing, it is much more interesting than all these serious meetings and trainings
Uh uh, yeah, what were you saying? I am a powerful individual and- OH MY GOD IS THAT A PUPPY??
Squalo and Tiziano are pretty chill about it
I mean, you're a child
Surely you'll be more interested in butterflies or cartoons more than that grown-up stuff
Do you even know what the mafia is?
Generally, they just want you to enjoy your childhood
Very supportive about your interests
You want to go out for icecream? Sure, we'll get the car stared
Oh, you want to play with legos? No more words needed. We'll get you a full cart of those
It's like they have a child of their own
Carne is not worried either
Also likes to spend time with you
Mostly he just listens to your bubbling about a cool bird you saw or what a good breakfast you had
Sometimes you reming him his younger self
Powers or not, not one dares to take away your childhood just because you got a stand you didn't even ask for
So.. Cioccolata and Secco..
They don't even interact with you
Cio is just busy doing his own stuff and Secco blindly follows him around
Maybe it's for the best
Ciocolatta is interested in that stand of yours tho
But for now, when you're not even fully aware what stand is, he's just keeping his distance
He doesn't need a child who follows him and Secco around just to talk about childlike stuff
But as I said, maybe it's for the best
The one who WANTS you to develop your powers is Diavolo, of course
If Doppio is still somehow bearable, Diavolo is obsessed with the idea that you'll be a great addition to La Unita
"That is why you need to improve your stand, to be the greatest-"
"I saw a cute kitten today"
It's driving him insane at some point
How can you not want to be the best??
You don't want to beat all your enemies??
But it's not like you even have enemies
You try to keep distance with him
Good for you honestly
Overall, it is chaotic sometimes
But if you just gonna hang out with Squalo or Tiz.. or Carne it's gonna be fine
They're really good parental figures for you too
Such a nice bonus
#jjba x reader#jojo bizarre adventure#jojos bizarre adventure#jojo#jjba 5#la squadra x reader#la unita speciale#la unita x reader#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jjba platonic#jjba x you#jjba x y/n#diavolo x reader#jjba golden wind#doppio x reader#carne jojo#cioccolata and secco#cioccolata x reader#squalo x tiziano#squalo jojo#tiziano jjba#jojo no kimyo na boken kin#jojo no kimyō na bōken#child reader
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𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 — 𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐚
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), hostage!fem!reader, this is a dark!fic, deepthroat training, sexual conditioning, mindbreak, noncon, brainwashing, masturbation ( f ), self-asphyxiation, suggested dietary restriction / control, abuse, suggested drugging
𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ requested by anonymous for my hoe for the holidaze event. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3
how many hours had you been forced to stare at this screen? you’d lost count.
you thought you could salvage your sanity by refusing to become entranced by your own visage on the television, but you’d been watching your own destruction for so long that you were beginning to drool out of one corner of your parted lips. you could feel your thoughts melting away, little by little, leaving you hopelessly broken minded.
locked in a dark room, naked, with nothing but the TV to focus on, nothing to see but your digital twin choke on your master’s cock, from every angle possible ( even some you thought might have been impossible to capture ). the room— or, perhaps cell was a more appropriate term— was silent other than the gagging blaring from the speakers, your gagging. your crying. your begging for mercy. and Cioccolata’s moans. his snarls of twisted euphoria when you gurgled as he forced your head down with the palms of both of his hands flat against the back of your head. even watching it now, you recall what it felt like, the intensity of his strength, and the helplessness when his thickness slid into your throat.
the first time it happened, you’d retched, and thankfully he didn’t make you watch that video anymore. oh no, this particular tape was a compilation from the previous few days, of all the times he’d forced himself upon you, but you were only made to watch how he fucked your throat. a training exercise, that’s what Cioccolata had called it. “Watch your mistakes over and over until you no longer make them.” he made it sound so technical. so simple. so… normal.
was this normal?
a month ago, you had broken all your nails by scratching on the door, slamming yourself into it, and cried yourself to sleep. each time he opened the door, camcorder-holding Secco in tow, you’d scramble to the corner opposite him and hide, beg him to let you go, and once he was finished, he would turn the television on, play the recordings of you being raped the night before, and leave you until the next time.
the cycle had repeated. over and over. so many times that you’d stopped banging on the door. you’d stopped hiding in your corner. you’d stopped begging him to let you go.
this was your normal now.
you’d started sitting less than a foot away from the TV when it played, staring at your own, decimated visage being conquered on a loop.
this time you felt your breath diminish when Cioccolata dribbled your head against his groin— you couldn’t breathe for the poor, crying girl, for yourself, on the screen. you gasped for it, eyelids fluttering, feeling the pressure of his cock stretching your throat open. your image on the screen was flailing, so you start to mimic her, only to find both of your hands are occupied.
how strange.
one was gripping on to your own neck, squeezing tight to relive the pressure, the sensation of choking on Cioccolata. your nails were dug in to your skin, drawing miniature rubies to the surface. and the other hand was shoved between your trembling thighs. they were sticky; the same slick coated your fingers as they work to rub your sensitive clit. you mewl when you realize what you’re doing.
getting yourself off to your own abuse.
choking yourself to remind you how it feels when Cioccolata does it, so the pleasure surges deeper into your frame.
your back arches, and you drag your core over your fingers, squeezing your own throat hard enough to force your tears to break the barrier of their ducts and slide down your cheeks. just as your digital clone’s eyes roll back. just as Cioccolata howls what a good girl you are, and cums. you can see one, spit-soaked inch twitching before he thrusts it into your slack mouth, and your lips smash against his balls, oozing jizz and spit— your muscles all spasming, your body convulsing.
“Now now, I think I’ll have to tie your pesky hands behind your back from this point forward,” it took you a moment to realize that this wasn’t on the TV. the door to your room had opened, and Cioccolata strolled inside, Secco following along at his feet with the camera. you whimpered in response, biting down on your lower lip. to resist, you would need courage. which you didn’t have. Cioccolata hums as he approaches, grasping your face and turning it up towards him. your hazy eyes drift over his form, big and looming, and your body crumbles against his knees in submission. “What do you think, Secco?”
Secco grunts in response, aiming the lense directly at your defeated expression. at one time, you shied away from the camera, tried to cover your own shame so you wouldn’t have to watch it later and see how pitiful you were. right now, however, with Cioccolata’s digits carefully stroking your chin, crooning with his wicked grin plastered on his face, you didn’t flinch from the camera. you just lay there, limp, batting your lashes with drool dripping from your lower lip. “I didn’t expect you to start to enjoy your training,” he mutters, thoughtfully quirking a brow before squeezing your cheeks together, forcing your mouth into a childish pout. you wince, your whimpering slurred pathetically. “And we don’t want to spoil you, do we? That look of devastation you wear when I’ve tormented you is much too sweet to give up. It seems as though I will just have to bring that fear back. That agony. I’ll be harder on you from now on.”
Secco nods his head in agreement, giggling manically.
your tongue hangs out of your open mouth, as if begging to be gifted, and Cioccolata cocks his head, “Hungry, are you? Or do you believe you’ve been good enough to be rewarded?”
instead of using words, which you might’ve been capable of doing at one time, you mimic Secco. you whine in response, and flutter your lashes. begging for a treat. like an animal; like a puppy at the dinner table.
“Very well.” it was almost surprising that he agreed so easily, after just a hint of begging. but you couldn’t be suspicious. not when you were so desperate for it. “Just one, because you’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” you start to shake your head, but then you’re reminded of your sticky fingers between your legs, and nod obediently. Cioccolata reaches into his pocket and retrieves one, single sugar cube, before he places it on your tongue. moaning in gratitude, you draw it in, savoring the sweetness as it starts to dissolve. there’s a shock, unfamiliar from memory, but all of his treats have such a strange aftertaste, and considering that’s all he fed you, you’d learned to endure the bitterness. it numbs your tastebuds, and your head starts to feel light, as if filled with helium. “You can have another when you show me those saccharine tears of yours, that pretty face twisted in terror.”
#cioccolata#cioccolata x reader#Cioccolata x you#Cioccolata smut#jojo cioccolata#jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader#jojo’s bizarre adventure smut#jojo’s bizarre adventure x you#jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader#jojo’s bizarre adventure#jjba imagine#jjba smut#jjba x you#Jjba x reader#jojo x reader#jojo x you#jojo smut#jojo#golden wind#hoe for the holidaze
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Sorry for the worlds most niche ask but … poly Carne x Ciocolatta x male La Unita reader?
(I wanna throw Secco into the polycule pile as well but I’m worried that’s asking too much work for such a niche ask 😭 feel free to leave him out if you want)
Reader would obviously have to be someone with a) the ruthlessness to make it to La Unita and b) the unhinged-ness to be partly dating ciocolatta 😭😭 but tbf have you seen La Unita? No one on that roster is normal and well adjusted (not even Squalo and Tiz, they’re freaks too /affectionate)
Poly! Carne/Cioccolata/Secco x Male! La Unità Speciale! Reader
Dude you're so more than welcome to request niche stuff !! Carne n Cioccolata is like in the top 3 of the only JoJo ships I care about. Next to Esikars and Tomoko x Shinobu from part 4 😭
Warning: these are kinda all over the place??, tried to give each character a chance to shine but there might be some uneven coverage of characters, Cioccolata is his own brand of concern
- One word to describe the relationship: intense
- Everyone loves aggressively and frequently
- Hard to say if there's some kind of "balance" between the four of you. Even Carne, though silent, is just as clingy and touchy as Cioccolata and Secco
- Oh yeah btw you're never going to be left alone
- Even on missions, even if Doppio insists you go alone, they don't care. I really think these three men take Doppio or Diavolo's words as just a suggestion.
- Secco is the worst offender. His clinginess is overwhelming. He'll always insist that he holds your hand, your waist, any bit of skin he can get his hands on
- And he's just as determined that you give him the same attention. He'll always want you to pet him, to sing the same praises as Cioccolata, give him some special treatment w extra sugar cubes or kisses. Your attention is very addicting
- Cioccolata and Carne on the other hand? They're around you just to get a rise out of you
- Like I know Carne stepped closer to Mista just because he thought it was funny that it annoyed him
- They both love to scare and prod at you. Cioccolata does all the talking and teasing for the both of them, wheress Carne just likes to stare and hold you
- The unwavering eye contact could make anyone squirm and a low rumble erupts from his chest when Carne knows he's getting to you
- While it's fairly easy to fluster Secco and (kind of) Carne back, it's become a game between you and Cioccolata to see how you could make the surgeon blush
- He rolls his eyes when you act sweet, he laughs and plays along when you try to get intimate and tease him, you could show up at his door covered in blood and his face doesn't grow warm
- The secret? Join in on one of his tapes, he wants to see you revel in the adrenaline rush of murder.
- It's the action that gets blood rushing to his cheeks, it's the fact that he's sharing the experience with you and Secco. No secret that the doctor has a twisted sense of joy and romance, he loves taping the "dates" he has with you because of this
- It's like a lil scrapbook, y'know? Fond memories with you and Secco <3
- Sometimes Carne joins in on the fun, but he's rather camera shy, so he's the director. While you three are making out sloppy style, his hand is in the corner frame giving a small thumbs up.
- You four are only considered "cute" by Tiziano and Squalo, but you all really are happier than what any outsider can assume
#jjba#jojo's bizarre adventure#jjba x reader#cioccolata jjba#carne jjba#secco jjba#Cioccolata x reader#carne x reader#secco x reader#golden wind#jjba golden wind#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Golden Wind
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Cavia Italiana: Esperimento del Diavolo
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A/N: Yo, does anyone remember when Cioccolata was all the rage in the Fandom? I wrote three fics for him, now here's a rewrite of a request (originally a commission but I didn't feel good enough to charge tbh) I got from a friend on discord back then, I didn't include all they wanted so now here it is! The Original is right here! And you can read it on Ao3 here!
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Relationship: Cioccolata/Reader, Brief Cioccolata/Secco
Content Warning!: Kidnapping, surgery, ear licking, rape, amputation, amputation fetishism, a bit of ableist language (Reader calls him crazy and stuff), torture.
Walking home in the middle of the night is not ideal, the cold hits your nose and cheeks, causing them to redden painfully, you pull the collar of your coat closer, trying to stay warm.
The darkness swallows your figure as you turn left down an alley, you swear you hear footsteps and stop in your tracks. Your heartbeat speeds up as you look around the alleyway.
No one.
You sigh, your breath turning into a fine mist in the cold air. You resume your walk home until you hear it again, you contemplate speeding up but can't get yourself to as the path in front of you is completely engulfed in darkness.
You look around again, but still nothing, you put your foot forward to continue your trek but a dog comes running at you, but wait...
That's not a dog.
It stops in front of you and you realize it's a man, he's sitting on all fours. You back up but your back hits something and a sharp pricking sensation hits your neck.
You grab the back of your neck where the pain was and start to stumble, everything begins to spin.
Your hand attempts to find something to stabilize yourself but before you do you fall to the ground catching a glimpse of someone in your eye, your head hits with a thud, and looking up the sky spins before it all goes black.
...
Cioccolata grins, crouching down beside his newly acquired pet. He pushes her bangs back to look at her face completely.
She's a pretty one, not that it matters to him but it didn't hurt to have a pretty thing to look at now and then.
Secco looks at him and Cioccolata nods, slipping the purse from her shoulder before letting the dog-man (man-dog?) Grab her wrists and drag her deadweight to her new forever home.
He riffles through her purse, getting a semblance of who she is before he gets sinks his claws in her.
Perfume, the bottle saying 'all natural scented with vanilla beans and coconut,' the 'doctor' (who has since had his medical license revoked) sprays it in the air, he lets it waft onto him as he walks through the mist, it does indeed smell like vanilla with a small hint of coconut, soft and sweet.
He decides that it might be useful in the future and stuffs it in his coat pocket.
The next item is obvious, something almost every woman has in her purse, sanitary products, pads, tampons, etc. Fairly normal, that's not proof the woman is menstruating at the moment.
Standard. It gives no real information. Useless. He tosses them on the ground.
Next, gloves. Cioccolata hums. They're simple knit gloves, thinner than the ones you'd see in colder areas of the world, fit for cold nights in the Mediterranean.
At first glance they're nice and well made but once he checks the brand, he can see they're in fact a cheap knock-off, the tag reads 'Pholli Phollie, 100 τοις εκατό μαλλί' He snickers, he's fairly sure the real 'Folli Follie' doesn't even manufacture gloves and he doubts the '100 percent wool' text.
Though they do make him wonder if she's been to Greece before. He tosses them in a trash can nearby, she won't be needing them anyway, plus he will settle for no less than the best for his pets.
Nail polish, Essie, an American nail polish brand.
It's a nice shade of holographic forest green, of course, she won't be needing it but he definitely will. He stores it in his pocket.
Her wallet is the next thing he pulls out. It's drab, a worn-out brown color and it's busted at the seams, she seems to have had it for a long time. Flipping it open he observes zero credit or debit cards, not all too surprising, people in Italy generally prefer cash to those.
Opening the pocket he finds no money either, he wonders if she's poor or low on cash. Next, he pulls out her ID, (Y/n) (L/n), (Height), (Weight), (E/c), (H/c), born in (year), (country).
Her photo has a small awkward smile, her upper lip slightly open to expose her front teeth, he can't help but stifle a laugh as he thinks she very much looks the role of a guinea Pig or perhaps a chipmunk or lab rat. He stuffs it in his pocket along with the nail polish.
The wallet is empty except for a photo, he sees her and various other people, some look like her but that could just be a coincidence.
Nevertheless, the photo portrays a happy woman surrounded by family and/or friends. His lips tug into a grin as he slides it from the plastic casing and tucks it into his other pocket, making sure not to bend or crack the printed paper.
He tosses the wallet like the rest of her belongings, he's leaving a sweet trail for someone to find.
The last thing in her purse is a Keychain, it's cute, having a little cartoon figure on, and a pocket knife. He nearly burst out in laughter.
Not so useful now, huh? He tosses it to the ground, she will never require any of that again. He throws the purse in the next trashcan he sees and finally, they make their way back to 'home.'
...
You wake up shivering violently, your bare back is against something freezing cold. It feels like metal, the room is pitch black, and there's not a window or even a small shine of light coming through the crack of a door, just pure darkness.
When you go to move your wrist you realize you've been restrained, attempting to move your legs gave the same result.
Dread washes over your entire body and your already frozen body shudders as your blood runs cold as you process the situation.
You take deep breaths, you've heard freaking out is bad in these kinds of situations, it always brings more trouble.
Well, that's what the media told you anyway, you choose to believe it and try not to completely break down in tears.
You tug at the restraints, which awards nothing, you attempt to twist your wrist but are met with pain as your bones slide a bit too much together, the cuff (that you gather is leather from feel) is on so snuggly you can't move it any which way, not back, not forth, not up, not down.
Even though you assume the answer you try the same with the ones wrapped around your ankles.
Yup, as expected, it's the same, the cuff is so tight you can barely feel your hands or feet and you can't at all feel your fingers or toes, you can move them but there's no feeling to be, well, felt, just a slow and stiff wiggle of the appendages.
You want to yell but refrain, you're scared- no- you're terrified of who might come running if they hear you scream. You try to remember what happened before you woke up but it proves to be harder than usual to recall your previous actions.
'Think (Y/n), think.'
But you can't, you don't even remember what happened after the afternoon you arrived at work. It's like there's a blank space where a memory should be, you know this couldn't have happened at work, sure it's a bit of a dangerous area and several of your coworkers sexually harass you but you don't see that happening during your shift.
Your head snaps to the side as you hear distant footsteps, they get louder with each step but soon they stop and you hear a lock click, the door opens slowly, the bright light hurts and you squeeze your eyes shut, you instinctively tug at the binds to cover your eyes.
"You're awake, good, good," a voice says, the light is so blinding you can't make out who it belongs to. "I was afraid I put you in a coma, see I didn't plan by weight and height" it adds, finally your eyes adjust just enough for you to see the owner of the voice.
It's a man, maybe in his 30s, with very odd hair and green markings on his face, you're not sure if it's makeup or tattoos, not that it matters at the moment.
He approaches you and reaches out to grab your face, you lean your head away from his hand but your neck can only stretch so far and he roughly grabs your jaw, turning your head side to side, examining you.
"You're a pretty one, my pet" his grip tightens and there's a grin creeping on his face. He leans down closer to you, putting his face near yours, fighting against his grasp is useless as he just gets closer, his breath stinks despite his very white teeth.
"Let go," you say through clenched teeth, attempting to pull your jaw from his hold. "Now, now, don't be like that" his voice is sweet but clearly taunting, he pecks your cheek and you feel his free hand creep down your bare body...
Wait, bare?! You're naked! That bastard undressed you, no wonder it's so cold.
His hand settles between your thighs and you violently fight the leather restraining your wrists and ankles.
"Stop it!" It's a pathetic scream, your throat feels painfully dry, and your voice cracks, you know you shouldn't be but you feel embarrassed at the sound.
"Aren't you just the cutest" he whispers in your before licking your ear, sticking his tongue inside.
Your eyes widen and you wince at the feeling of the slimy muscle twirl in your ear, leaving behind wet sticky saliva dribbling out of your ear.
Gross.
You nearly forgot about his hand until you feel his fingers rub between your labia. "What are you do-!" You're cut off by a moan as his fingers focus on your clit, you try to scooch away from his fingers but there's no give from the restraints, and you're stuck.
"So fidgety, are you nervous? There's no need to be, I'm a doctor, you know" your kidnapper assures you as one of his fingers circles your entrance. There's no way this nut is a doctor, right? A moan tears from your throat as he goes back to your clit.
"Please stop, just let me go" you beg, sweat starting to bead on your forehead, it goes cold in a near instant, maybe it's due to the low temperature of the room or maybe it's because of your blood running cold throughout your body.
"But why, you're so wet" he grins, once again snaking his tongue into your ear canal, practically fucking it, thrusting his tongue in and out, that cannot taste good.
Your breathing picks up and you fight harder against the cuffs. "Let me go!" All your captor does is laugh "I love it when they struggle... Secco, are you getting this?" His eyes cast up for a second to look at something.
Who is he talking to?
You stop struggling to look where the green-haired man was looking.
Oh, God.
You can barely make it out but you see the flashing red light of a camera and a wide lilac eye staring intently at you, pointing the camera at you and panting heavily, you wonder how you never noticed them, the eye stares right back at you and your already heavy breathing picks up even more.
Snapping you away from the cameraman the 'doctor' inserts one finger inside of your cunt. "Take it out, you-you-" the room starts to spin and you can't finish your sentence before everything goes back.
Cioccolata sighs, pulling his finger out of your sex and rubs his temples, not caring about the wetness that still clings to his finger. "Disappointing, we'll have to work on that, won't we?" He asks your unconscious body.
He beckons Secco towards him "finish me off and I'll give you candy, would you like that?" He bribes the dog-like man, who happily nods and begins to unbutton Cioccolata's pants.
He grabs the nitrous oxide mask, it's not the only anesthetic he'll be using but it'll keep you calm until he's finished. He secures the mask behind your head, he turns on the gas as Secco begins taking his hard length into his mouth.
...
Groggily waking up to the worst pain in your life, your eyes snap open and you scream, to the average person it's blood-curdling, to your captor it's sweet, sweet music. You're met with a bright light pointing at you, and all of your limbs hurt. You're unable to see past the light but you hear the sound of a saw.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
You're far too confused to make out what's happening in the moment. You thrash "stop that!" Someone reprimands you, looking towards the voice you see your kidnapper, and your heart sinks into your stomach as you see he's covered in blood.
Your eyes won't focus and they dart from his face to his moving arm, grating, back to his face then down to his hand. You're breathing goes erratic as you see what's making that horrid sound, he's sawing through your arm, and your breathing slows down as you breathe in more of the gas.
"As much as I love your screaming, I can't have you freaking out once I get to your legs." He stops, setting the bone saw down with a clink, he grabs something else, a syringe.
Uncapping said syringe he grabs plastic tubing, you follow the tube, and it leads to what remains of your arm, he pierces the tube and soon your surroundings begin to fade around you.
You relax and don't react as he resumes his actions. Your thoughts slow and soon you're knocked out once again.
...
You groan as you awake, grunting as you attempt to readjust to a more comfortable position but soon come to realize you're on a hard and rough textured surface.
Slowly you open your blurry eye, you reach up to rub them clear but your hands don't reach them, blinking rapidly the blur subsides and you look around.
Your body goes numb as your met with the sight of your extended biceps, lacking something, most notably your forearms and hands, bandages cover the leftover stumps, you're not bleeding though blood stains the white wrap.
You open your mouth to scream but immediately start violently coughing, throat so dry you can't make a sound.
You turn to your side, struggling as you try to lift yourself, however, you're met with horrible pain shooting through your limbs.
You stop, trying to control your breathing and calm down, the memories of what happened come back, you're kidnapped, and you remember being taunted by some green-haired loon who assaulted you, and then there's a gap in what happened after that.
The pain filling your body is intense and you want to cry but nothing comes out of your eyes even though you feel like you're crying, your breath even hitches as if you were sobbing. 'Calm down, (Y/n), access the situation' you tell yourself, looking around the place, you see you're in a windowless small room, decorating the walls are covered in floral wallpaper, it reminds you of a grandmother's house.
There's a bed in the opposite corner of the room, it's bland and all-white but immaculately clean. There's a small side table with a vase full of pink lillies and baby's breath, and across from the bed is a wooden door, you just need to get out then you can...
That's right, no hands to turn the knob. Everything about the room reminds you of a nursing home, bland as if not to excite too much.
You did notice the wire that sits in front of you, thin black metal bars locking you in, they surround you entirely. It reminds you of...
Oh my God! You're in a dog cage.
No fucking way.
You physically shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to wake yourself up, but when your eyes open nothing has changed.
There's no way someone was sick enough to put you in a dog cage. Then again, you remember you're missing parts of your arms.
Forcing yourself to turn back on your back you land with a thud and the cage rattles as it hits the wall. Looking down you see the door to the cage, just as you thought, it's exactly like a dog cage.
That's when you notice your legs... Just like your arms.
"No, no, no, nononononono" you keep repeating over and over again, the focus you previously had over your breathing halts and dissipates, replaced with pure fear.
Everything below your thigh is gone, leaving just your plush thighs wrapped up tightly with a bandage much like your arms.
You keep repeating 'no' over and over again, your arms reach up to cover your eyes with your hands, and of course, nothing reaches them.
This only makes things worse, even though you're hyperventilating and sobbing, no fluid comes out of your eyes, mouth, or nose, everything is bone dry.
You jump as the door clicks open, freezing you see the green-haired man. He's taller than you thought, he casually strolls in, closing the door behind him gently.
His eyes meet yours and he grins, as he waltzes towards you scoot as close to the wall as you can, fresh wounds press up against the metal bars but the pain is less intense than the fear you're feeling at the moment.
"Don't hurt yourself now" he says, placing a hand on the top of the cage he crouches down. He sticks a finger through the bars, wiggling it like your a fish in the tank and he's a nosy kid.
"How are you feeling, guinea pig?"
Guinea pig? There is no way he just called you that...
"No need to be afraid, it's all right" he's not sincere at all, you know he's enjoying it, the tent in his pants gives that away.
His erection strains against the white fabric of his pants, it's already leaking precum that leaves a wet spot on his crotch.
You turn your head away and try to avoid his gaze that flickers from your face to your arms and chest, then your bottom half.
You're still naked, body laid out bare for his wandering eyes, his tongue peeks out to lick his green lips.
"Are you thirsty? You lost a lot of fluids" you don't answer, no matter how dry your throat and mouth are. He chuckles "it's okay, I know you are, that's why I brought you some water" that catches your attention.
He pulls out a water bottle, not a normal one... No, one like the ones small rodents are given to drink from.
You bite your lip as he secures it against the wire "go ahead" he encourages, it takes a while before you shimmy closer to the water bottle but it hangs just out of reach.
This is so humiliating.
You force your head to lift, but still, you barely reach the spout, tongue poking out the tip rolls over the metal ball, only giving you a drop of much-needed water.
One, two, three more kitten licks before your head falls back down, and your neck aches painfully.
"Please..." It's pathetic, your voice wavers, tone barely reaching a whisper. Your captor laughs "come on, cavia, you can do it" he's taunting you again "I can-can't, please" it physically pains you to speak. You hate begging but you see no other option.
Sadly, it doesn't work, he reaches a finger through the bars and strokes the metal ball, water drips down making the thirst you feel even more intense.
You once again lift your head, this time attempting to sit up part way, the pain in your thighs extends to your lower half, it feels impossible to bend at the waist as it just brings stinging pain.
There's only one choice, you prop yourself up on the stubs he left behind. The pain is unbearable but you have to fight through it.
It feels like forever for you to reach the spout once again, when you do you wrap your lips around the metal and suck.
Water comes out but not enough, so you run your tongue up the metal ball, releasing more of the water you crave.
You drink as much as you can before you fall back down, thankfully it's enough water for now, it's not ideal but you can't get anymore.
"Oh no, you're bleeding" despite the 'oh no' he has no concern, he seems quite giddy in fact.
You eye the stub, it is indeed bleeding, once you notice it that's when the pain sets in and you bite your lip. "Don't worry, my cavia, I'll take care of you" he coos, standing up he makes his way to the cage door, sliding the locks out of place.
The door opens smoothly and his hands reach in, grasping your hips. He slowly slides you out of the cage, you don't fight it, happy to be free from the constricting wire box.
He's careful not to knick your aching limbs against the sides of the exit.
Once you're free, he takes you in his arms, holding you like a baby "do you see how light you are without all that baggage?" Right, arms and legs are baggage, totally.
You nearly roll your eyes.
He walks you to the bed, setting you down with surprising care. He opens the side tables drawer and pulls out scissors, alcohol, cotton balls, and bandages.
"Let's fix you up" he grabs your bicep and unravels the sullied bandage, the stump is now visible to you, the skin is sewn shut, fresh blood leaks through the thin line in small droplets, the skin is irritated, hot, and painful, a light pinkish color.
Taking the cap off the alcohol he tips it onto a cotton ball "it's not hospital quality but I find it works just the same" he sits next to you, hand wrapping around the remains of your arm, and dabs the cotton ball against the closed flesh. He's gentle but it burns "I know" he croons with condescension "it hurts, doesn't it?"
He can't stop a cruel smile from tugging on the corners of his mouth as he watches your bottom lip quivers.
"You're being such a good girl, you make your master so happy" he praises, laying your arm back down to retrieve the bandages.
He's slow about wrapping the bandage around your arm, he purposefully wraps it too tight, not tight enough to cut off circulation just enough to be uncomfortable.
He does the same for each of your stumps, your legs hurt the most. You gag as the cotton ball meets the closed wound, since your stomach lacks any contents besides its natural acid nothing comes out, but it does burn your chest as the acid tries to escape.
He pays you no mind and continues cleaning and wrapping your thigh before moving on and doing the same to your other thigh.
Finished, he pats your leg, getting up he puts his supplies back in the drawer and closes it. "You did so well" he reaches a hand out to pat your head but you dodge it.
This clearly upsets the man "you'll come to enjoy my touch, I promise... It'll just take more training."
Training... It unsettled you, what exactly does he have in mind?
As if to answer your inner question, your captor reaches into his pocket, he pulls out... Oh God... A vibrator. You look away, your body begins to shake and tears are finally able to wet your eyes. "Don't cry, cavia, master will take care of you, he'll make you very happy" he reassures, bed dipping as he settles above you.
Laying a hand on your thigh he spreads it open, exposing your bare pussy. "Please don't" you beg, he shushes you, petting your head "master promises you'll love this" he brings the small vibrator to your labia, a click of a button turns it on and he teases it against your slit.
He revels the way you shiver and suppress your little mewls of pleasure and squirm, unable to do anything else. You're completely at his mercy, which he has none.
Wetness gathers despite how much you wish it didn't. He runs the tip of the vibe up and down your labia until they swell with desire, begging for more whether you like it or not.
With your growing wetness he slips it between the plump flesh right against your clit and he couldn't have hoped for a better reaction.
It feels so good, you moan and wiggle your hips, trying to get away from it. Pressing harder he watches your thighs stretch as your back arches into the toy. "Please no" your face scrunches up, tears falling down your hot cheek and snot leaking from your nose.
"You can take it, can't you? Yeah, you can because you're a good girl for your master, aren't you?" His hand finds your breasts, rubbing and pinching your nipple.
It feels so good, too good, you can't, your hips thrust against the vibrator, desperate to climax. "Stop" you mumble through your sobs and humiliating moans.
The man licks his lips "you don't want that, do you? You're so wet and eager, you know your place beneath your master" God, was he ever going to shut up? It seems he always has fake praise to sing in your ears.
You rapidly shake your head "nonononono" your close, and you can feel it building up about to release just as he pulls the vibrating toy away. Your abdomen twitches and your hips thrust forward, begging for more.
"That's it, good girl" he leans over, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. His hand rests on your chest, feeling it rapidly rise and fall under his palm.
He moves to kiss your tears away, leaving smudged green lipstick all over your face.
He sets the wet toy on the side table, his fingers rub your flushed cunt before sinking two of them in with ease. Your walls tighten, hips pressing firmly against his hand, and you moan loudly, walls clenching and unclenching around the digits.
"Such an eager thing you are" his fingers thrust very lightly, never actually leaving your wet heat. Your back arches and your thighs press down against his hand "stop" it's so useless to beg, you know but there's nothing else you can do, there's not even a chance of running away.
Even though you want it to stop you can't help the rock of your hips against his hand, burying half of your face in the pillow as you moan and sob, squeezing your eyes shut.
His fingers curl and the moan you let out nearly makes him spill into his pants. He bites his lips, green lipstick smearing in his teeth "such a good girl for her master" it's low and breathless, his own hips faintly thrust against nothing, craving the wet heat between your amputated thighs.
He's able to slip his thumb through your tight thighs and rubs your swollen clit, you shake against his hand and finally, you're given your release, walls tighten like a vice around his finger, legs squeezing tight enough to bruise his slick hand.
You relax once it's over, thighs letting go of his aching hand. His fingers curl once again, and his thumb lightly teases your overstimulated clit, you cry and kick your thighs up, trying to get his fingers away from your sensitive cunt.
"Come one, give me another, I know you can do it" he encourages you but you shake your head "no, please, I can't, please," You say like a prayer, snot bubbling from your inflamed nostrils as you beg.
He doesn't listen, of course. How could he when you're just so sensitive and adorable?
It takes only a few more curls of his fingers and rub of your clit to push you over the edge again, you're panting like an animal when it's over.
Your mutilated body glistens with a thick sheen of sweat, Cioccolata can practically smell the salt coming off you. The bandages he just put on are disgustingly wet, you hate it, it feels like when you sweat through your t-shirt while running, clinging to your skin, the sweat is starting to seep into the suture wounds and burns terribly.
He kisses your sweaty chest, hand leaving the sticky valley between your legs to grab your breast and put the nipple into his mouth. Sucking and biting the bud until swollen and hot, irritated by the harsh treatment.
He pulls his lips off but traps your nipple between his teeth, tugging it until you cry out and beg him to let go, chanting 'please,' 'stop,' and 'It's just too much.' Satisfied, he sits up, rubbing your slick sides "you were such a good girl for me" he kisses your cheek again.
It makes your feel weird, he's almost loving, too high from your two consecutive orgasms you nuzzle against his face, earning a chuckle.
He brushes his nose against yours in a so-called 'Eskimo kiss' it's sweet and very sickening. Cioccolata stands, leaving you cold and lathered in sweat, the sheets below you are soaked with sweat, sticking to your back.
Your body relaxes and you're so tired you nearly fall asleep until you feel your thighs parted and something gets pushed past your puffy labia inside of your spent cunt.
You tense, mumbling a chorus of pleads, begging him not to, they are answered with the vibrator turning on, and your walls try to push it out "please, no more! I can't!" Cioccolata audibly moans at your whining, cock painfully hard at this point.
Reaching his hand into his pocket he retrieves the other toys he brought you. Nipple clamps, with an added ball and chain, your eyes widen, you've never had anything clamped on your nipple before, they intimidate you.
Cioccolata sees your scared expression and laughs "they don't weigh much, really" he's not lying but he abused your poor nipples for a reason, nipples are sensitive and the added weight is sure to feel great, wanting to or not.
He squeezes your breast so he can attach the weight without your squirming interfering.
Clasping the first one to your nipple you are met with pain, the metal is cold and presses hard into the bitten bud, it felt like a piercing in the tender flesh.
Letting go of your breast he admires the way your breast is pulled thanks to the attached weight, Cioccolata repeats the same on the other nipple.
He hastily works on his belt and fly, sighing as his drooling cock is finally free from its fabric prison. Wrapping a hand around his throbbing length he runs his thumb across the flushed and leaking tip.
"Fuck, you look so pathetic, you're amazing" he moans out, teasing his aching cock. He watches you writhe under him, cunt soaking the white sheets below along with your sweat, the thick clear liquid of your arousal stains your thighs and labia.
"You're gonna-ah need a bath after this, hu-huh? That's okay, heh, I'll make sure you're- oh fuck- nice and squeaky clean~" he nearly falls on top of you as he pumps his cock, lubing it up with his copious precum, he stabilizes himself with a hand on your other side, knuckles going white as he grips the wet sheets.
"Fuck, I'm close" he moans, hand speeding up, he resists the urge to close his eyes so he can watch as your thighs open and close, the stumps that were once arms stiffening and back arching, breasts swaying with each desperate wiggle, the weights tugging painfully, your nipples puffy as they swell from the abuse.
"I really made the right choice with you" his pace can't get any quicker and his hips try to compensate by bucking into his warm hand.
"Yes, yes, yes, oh Dio, yes!" His voice strains and cum spurts out, sticky ropes hitting the sheet and your torso.
He can't stop himself from thrusting through his orgasm, to prevent himself from falling on top of you he rests a knee on the edge of the bed, stroking soft cock a few more times before finally letting go of his flaccid length.
You on the other hand can't escape the constant stimulation, you are so tired and the pulsing in your sore cunt "please, turn it off!" Your voice is hoarse and you can barely speak through your broken moans.
The man above you pants, eyes half-lidded, his mouth hung open lipstick smeared past his lips from the constant biting and kissing, staining his pearly teeth.
"You're truly amazing" Cioccolata mewls "I've never come so hard in my life, not even with Secco" he admits, relaxing as he drags himself onto the bed, sliding next to you and draping his arm over your shoulders to pull you closer.
He presses his face into your neck, pulling your body flush against his, soft cock still sensitive and pressing against the bandages that cover the sutures on your thigh.
It would hurt if you could focus on it, however, your brain is struggling to understand anything but the painful pleasure he's forcing you to endure.
Cioccolata inhales sharply, taking in your scent, a normal person would be disgusted, you frankly smell ripe and rank, but to Cioccolata it's the most amazing scent in the world, it's like a pheromone to him, he enjoys the fact it's so strong he can taste it on his tongue.
The way he holds you puts pressure on your arm, his firm body trapping the stub between bodies. Your thighs spread and Cioccolata uses that space to slot his leg between yours, keeping your drenched thighs apart and pushing his knee against your cunt, pushing the toy deeper until it hits your cervix.
You use his knee to grind your clit against it, desperate for real pleasure, sick of the teasing of the vibrator. His white pants soak up all the slickness that you rub against them, nearly turning translucent.
"I'm so glad I found you, cavia" he sounds lovestruck, or maybe loved love-drunk is a better term. You see this as an opportunity "please-" you don't finish as he presses his knee harder into your swollen clit, a high pitched moan leaves your lips, and the man who kidnapped you kisses your shoulder "please- heh- take it out- ah" you're barely able to finish a sentence, overcome with the constant stimulation. Cioccolata pulls you even closer "not yet, hold out a little longer" he reaches his hand down to replace his knee on your clit.
Shaking your head you try to tell him you can't take anymore (not that he'd listen) but your voice is caught in your throat as his fingers work you to orgasm.
You struggle to control yourself as you cum again, babbling out pleas for his to stop, you sob and writhe against him. After that you still, the toy still vibrates inside you and your captor's fingers still work your tender clit to the point of rubbing you raw.
"That's it, you're such a good girl" he lavishes you with praise, kissing whatever part of skin he can, you can't move anymore, you're so tired you feel like passing out, you can't even ask him to take it out as your eyelids grow heavy.
He smiles as he sees you fall into slumber, he doesn't remove the toy inside of you, he knows how to break people and pleasure is one way.
Apparently, it works on him too, he's pretty sure he's in love with you. You're his perfect creation, you can never leave him, and with more time you'll never want to leave him.
#dead dove do not eat#reader insert#x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#jjba#jojos bizarre adventure#cioccolata x reader#cioccolata
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why is does every cioccolata x reader have the reader be a kidnapped damsel in distress
why can’t i be his evil wife huh people are too afraid of genius
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what characters do you think would enjoy slapping and/or choking their partner? <33
— For a character I can see enjoying both I have to choose Formaggio. He knows how to use his hands, and low-key enjoys giving you a little pain during sex. As long as you're okay with it, Formaggio knows just how to choke you out to bring out the most pleasure from it. But above all he loves to slap your ass, any time anywhere, it can get annoying
— Prosciutto also pegs me as a guy into both, but in moderation. He doesn't necessarily chokes you out during sex but rather just likes to keep his hand on your neck, giving it a light squeeze now and then, and he loves to spank you
— Ciocolata loves both, and he's more extreme about it. Enjoys slapping you more than choking, and does it anywhere on your body, after scenes it's common to come out bright red, feint hand prints everywhere, but he makes sure to fix them up!
— Finally, Valentine. Enjoys a little roleplay behind it, and prefers spanking you but doesn't really put his hands anywhere else. Similar to Pros he likes to keep a hand on your neck, but doesn't really choke you.
I'll have to end this here because if I had to list every character who's just into slap ass, we'd be here all day
#spicy games#steamy writing#formaggio x reader#prosciutto x reader#funny valentine x reader#cioccolata x reader
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Brand: "I'm going to engrave myself into your very being." w/ Cioccolata (and maybe a small cameo from Secco)?
"Just a bit more," Cioccolata remarks, his gaze tilted downward as he fastens a strap around your ankle. You'd already been strapped in by your arms, but he had a penchant for being thorough when he actually cared about something. If it were anyone else, he'd take little care in prepping them for whatever twisted thing he was going to do to them. You - and Secco, of course - received actual prep, though the quality of the prep was dubious. "Almost done." He comes around your side and straps in your other ankle. "There we go."
You squirm in your bonds, but your effort is useless. There would be no escaping the tight restraints. Even if you could escape the restraints, you'd have to contend with your captors and their Stands. The only reason you fought was out of your self-preservation, which refused to die no matter how many times Cioccolata had tried to butcher it.
(More fun for him, unbeknownst to you. You really should have figured that out by now.)
"Getting impatient, are we?" He says, condescending. He brings a hand up to grip your chin and forces you to meet his gaze. Cioccolata's lips are stretched into a sickening grin, and you wince when you meet his eyes. "It won't be so bad." He turns your head to the side, and you're made aware that Secco is waiting from the corner. Your stomach drops when you hear sizzling, your gaze focusing on the tool in his hand - a freshly heated brand. "Come, Secco. It's time."
"No, you can't do thi—" You're cut off by Cioccolata's Stand materializing and shoving one of its hands into your mouth, the hazardous material it almost always oozed not present - he didn't want to kill you, after all. You whine behind the painful intrusion, and Cioccolata laughs.
"I'm afraid you're wrong, dear. I can do whatever I want to you." Cioccolata closes the distance between himself and Secco, prompting Secco to hand over the brand. You scream behind the Stand's hand as Cioccolata approaches you, the brand's sizzling becoming louder with every step. Your eyes widen in fear when he leans in so that his nose is touching yours, the brand in his hand held precariously above your body. "I'm going to engrave myself into your very being."
request from this set of ask prompts!
#ask prompt#yandere cw#violence cw#cioccolata x reader#jjba x reader#yandere jjba x reader#branding cw#my writing#jjba.txt#vento aureo
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lmao, me? Guzh about a crazed zurgon eith green hair and a human pet named Secco?
Absolutely.
BRO THEY ARE LIKE, ZO FUCKING CUTE. Like, i know people would honeztly be pretty weirded out at the fact I find them attractive, but c'mon!! Have you zeen them??
I would juzt love to be their lil lover.
I know for a fact Cioccolata probably would be a decent partner becauze, do you zee the way he treatz Secco? Like, yez zir!! Pleaze love me!!
But alzo knowing them,if I even tried to ztart a relationzhip with them, I'd end up on that operating table and zoon be dead, but IDC, i love thoze two freakz with all my heart.
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Can you do a La Squadra or a La Unita x Child reader were reader is scared of "the monster under her bed"?
I decided to make that with La Unita bc they deserve it
La Unita "helping" Child!Reader with monsters under their bed
humour, comfort, crying, GN reader
TW: Cioccolata, mention of guns
Squalo and Tiziano
“Hey”, you whispered in Tiziano’s ear.
“Wha-“, the blonde man immediately woke up from his slumber, looking confused, “It’s 3 AM, go to sleep”
“I can’t sleep, there’s monster under my bed, he wants to eat me”, you started sobbing. The noise woke Squalo, who was actually not pleased with the fact that you interrupted his beauty sleep.
“If we make sure that there’s no monsters, will you let us sleep?”, Squalo sighed, already hating the idea of getting up from his soft, warm bed.
“Yes”, you replied.
Taking their hands, you lead them along the dark corridors to your room. Entering the room, of course, you step away in the farthest corner, as far as possible from the bed.
Rolling his eyes, Tiziano is the first to look under the bed.
“Oh my God”, he gasped.
“What?”, you asked anxiously.
“Squalo, dear, there’s really a monster”
Squalo understood what his husband was trying to do and decided to play along.
“You’re right, it’s so scary”, he held back his laughter, trying to sound as serious as possible, “I think we’ll need to step back, don’t want this thing to eat us”
“No please”, you plead, tears running down your face. Oh. They crossed the line a bit, didn’t they? Squalo immediately approached you, taking you in his arms.
“Oh no, don’t cry, we’re sorry”, he comforted you. Tiziano standing right beside him.
“There’s no monster, calm down”, Tiziano patted your head, “We were just joking around”
“If you want you can stay with us for the night, how does that sound?”, Squalo smiled at you, still holding you tight.
“Alright”, you agreed, still scared a little.
Cioccolata and Secco
“Ugh, what do you want child”, he said annoyed, still working with some files on his desk. Secco was laying on the floor next to him.
“There’s monster under my bed, I’m scared”, you sobbed.
“Don’t worry”, he tossed his files aside, smiling at you, “I think it’ll eat you quickly, you won’t feel a thing”
“What?”, you cried, your legs shaking.
You heard Secco’s laugh.
“Yeah, it’ll eat your toes”, he looked right into your eyes, “You were bad today, remember? And bad children are being eaten”
“You guys are mean”, you replied with a pitched voice, tears running down your face. Why did you think it was a good idea to ask Cioccolata for help anyway?
Carne
“Hey”, you called, trying trying to get Carne’s attention. You guys weren’t close, but right now you were too scared to care.
“Need anything?”, he asked.
“There’s monster under my bed, I’m scared”, you replied with puffy eyes from a long crying.
“Monsters do not exist”, he denied, “However, I can stay with you until you fall asleep”
“Okay”, you agreed.
Carne is not that bad as you thought. Maybe you need to spend more time with him.
Diavolo and Doppio
You knocked on the door of Diavolo’s office, waiting for permission to get inside.
You didn’t have to wait long, Doppio opened the door.
“What are you doing here so late at night?’, he gasped, “And why are you crying?”
“There’s monster under my bed”, you sobbed.
"Wait a minute, I'll call the boss", he took a book from the shelf, holding it against his ear, "Boss, you're here? What do I do?"
“They need to figure it out themselves, give them a gun”
“Boss? What do you mean gun?”, Doppio asked confusedly, his eyes wide.
“If they want to live they need to fight for it”, he replied, “You know, the best defense is a good offense”
“BOSS THEY’RE NINE”
#jjba part 5#jjba headcanons#jjba x reader#jjba x you#gn reader#diavolo x reader#doppio x reader#carne jojo#cioccolata and secco#cioccolata x reader#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jojo no kimyō na bōken#jojo bizarre adventure#jojo part five#vento aureo x reader#jjba vento auero#vento aureo#la unita speciale#squalo jojo#tiziano and squalo#tiziano jojo#squalo x tiziano
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Obsessed
Cioccolata x reader x secco
Back at it again with being the worst writer known to man
Nsfw 🔞 kinda not really it's Cioccolata. We are talking about
Not really edited much. DADDY WILL DEAL WITH THAT LATER (ha!)
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These two are going to ruin your life
Secco will record you in your own home and process the film into hard drives and give them out to your family, friends, and Coworkers
Cioccolata will collect things you leave behind. (Hair clips, strands of hair, spit, gasses you drank from, silverware you used, anything)
After awhile they will get bored of ruining your life and want you in there lives
What where they to do there love wouldn't notice them or there love was just too stupid to notice them
Either way they are going to dumb you down.
Cioccolata watches you sleep your eyes drive him crazy especially when your scared, but he doesn't care it only turns him on more.
Cioccolata let's secco be with you but you are his and his only he only let's secco mess around with you for his own pleasure.
And if you are obsessive over them and just as crazy they only love you even more and may let you partake in "experiments"
I am going to go into reader being obsessed with them
You heard about a what they had done in the newspapers
In a way you idolized the duo.
You exspress to your freinds your fantasies with the two men yet they don't understand
Not long after that you kept those thoughts to youself.
It is sad really why don't they understand that you where made for them and they where made for you
You could live happily! Every night you dream of the life you could have with them when your alarm clock rings your practically in denial
And so with that said you set out to find the two men you had fallen for.
It will be difficult but if you happen to find them and take pictures with your Polaroid it will be heaven.
It is shameful hiding from your lovers but worth the wait when they catch onto you.
Before you know it you will be tied to an operating table.
If you some how manage to convince them your not with the press you will have the opportunity to become there little pet
Not quite what you would exspect but it's something good enough for you.
If you show to be as ruthless and as brutal as them they might just fall for you
#giogio#golden wind#jodio joestar#jojo golden wind#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jojo no kimyō na bōken#jojo part 4#jojo pt 5#abbachio x reader#jjba art#cioccolata#cioccolata x reader#secco x reader#seccolata#secco jojo#secco
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hiiii
i see your requests say open, but if they aren’t you can ignore this!
may i request secco and cioccolata x reader fluffy headcanons of them giving cuddles and kisses tyyyy :)))) <3
Poly! Secco and Cioccolata x Reader Cuddles + Kisses Headcanons
I promise y'all that my requests are open I'm just bad about posting them /lh Also!! First time writing for these two, I hope I do them justice <3
- If you want cuddles and kisses you're getting a lot of em !!
- Both men are extremely affectionate !! It's hard for them to get free time due to their jobs, so they make any ounce of time with you worth it
- Once Secco sees you, he's immediately jumping on you and rubbing his head against yours
- like a weird dog cat boy thing
- He's also a big fan of cheek kisses!!! It's very easy for him to be overwhelming with it
- Cioccolata prefers standing by to watch his boyfriend's dramatic pda tbh
- It's rare for the doctor's heart to skip a beat, but seeing Secco practically maul you with kindness does it for him
- It's a very simple warmth that ignites within him, y'know?
- Secco and Cioccolata are very much "same thing, different font" kind of lovers
- Because while Secco prefers a lot of touch and repetitive affection, Cioccolata knows how to sweep you off your feet with little to no action
- He's surprisingly pretty suave: knowing the perfect way to cradle your face, the right tone to butter you up, and how to kiss you in a way that'll leave your face on fire
- I will say he is a bit mean when he does it, always flashing a wicked smile as he teases you
- Secco sometimes joins in on the teasing too
- Like Cioccolata would go "I wish you could've seen that look on your face" and then Secco would pull up with receipts
- But he can be soft, especially when y'all are tired and just want to hold each other
- Cuddling is intentionally chaotic I think
- While Cioccolata is a die hard big spoon, Secco prefers just to pile onto you and him
- And when Secco sleeps he moves around
- So while you fell asleep with Cioccolata holding you, you woke up with Secco in your arms
- At least one of you will be kicked off the bed
- Secco always feels bad and it always warrants a pity sugar cube
- Even if Cioccolata was strict on the "no sugar cubes" rule whenever it happens </3
#jjba#jojo's bizarre adventure#jjba x reader#jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind#golden wind#golden wind x reader#la unite speciale#la unite speciale x reader#Cioccolata x Reader#jjba secco#jjba Cioccolata#secco x reader
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Hi! I wanted to enter for the JJBA game but also wanted to say I love your original work :] I hope you’re having a lovely day!
YOU:
Height: below average
Appearance: conventionally attractive, usually well kept
Personality: constantly curious/asking questions, rarely speaking, and creative
Red flag: I need lots of alone time and can sometimes come off as detached.
What is love to you?: love is being present for each other, acting for each other and communicating, not necessarily just affection
Other: I have too many hobbies/interests like soap making, mycology, art, animal keeping, instruments, etc.
YOUR VALENTINE:
Preferred gender: male
Polyamorous relationship: acceptable
Preferred height: any!
Preferred appearance: any :) I love men
Red flag: someone who wouldn’t be willing to learn about new experiences. Also someone who would only paint their house beiges </3
Characters you absolutely don't want: no minors please!
Hello, dear!
Thank you for the kind words! Now, to business!
This year, your Valentines are... Cioccolata and Secco! Now, they have some issues, but they are quite good partners, actually. Cioccolata is doting and passionate, he'd be insanely happy to have a significant other who's creative, curious and has many interests (but especially appreciative of your interest in mycology). Secco likes to always be close to the people he loves and for them to be close to him. It's actually hard to find people who'd be more open-minded and have better communication skills. And no beiges in that house. Only clown portraits and colour theory floor tiles.
(Obviously, I read Secco's outburst at Cioccolata as heavy denial)
I hope you are pleased with the result!
Love,
Dr. True Love
The rules of the Valentine’s game
#valentine's day#takii's valentine's game#cioccolata#secco#seccolata#jjba#cioccolata x reader#secco x reader#seccolata x reader#fanart#digital sketch#jjba vento aureo#jojo's bizzare adventure#original art
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Could've Moved Mountains
The epilogue of my Cioccolata x Reader oneshot that I realized I had never posted here! 7k words. The focus is first and foremost on you, poor reader. Before reading, here is a warning: this story plays with some heavier themes alluding to depression.
Your verdict was clear. The next chapter of your life would be opened with a closing sentence.
After a long drive, you finally reached your destination. Chained, you were guided outside the vehicle by two policemen. Before you rose the grandiose door of your eternal residence. It did not stand out; shy was its malice, neglected by the public. Just a set of raw hinges and two dirtied panels.
This was your gateway to the afterlife, and the afterlife was prison, the place where the muck of mankind was hoarded. As foul as it was, the residence couldn't have possibly hoped to host a character like you. Nothing was at its disposal to satisfy your basic human values. With not one possibility to keep you intact, decay awaited you, finely tuned like the decomposing of a long withered flower.
You'd been rotting from the inside, declining with every lackluster act of vigor you'd portray. Death was universal, repetitive, devastatingly mediocre. You accepted it so many times before, it felt more like a necessary state of living. Even now, it caved in, numbed you vividly.
Your senses landed in some state of anxious languor. You had never felt anything quite like it before. It was much like a dreamscape, presented through hazy ramblings of a dying mind. Through them, a stimulus was registered, so rough, so haphazardly unpleasant.
"You! Right there!"
And due to your infamy, you knew you were the one called out. You turned around, seeking whoever was it that wanted to agitate you once again.
It was a woman, in her forties, you'd estimate. She seemed like the usual sort you'd spot on the streets, not too pretty, but gravitating towards beauty with her accessories and makeup. She could've been pleasant for the eye, for all you knew. It was just that wrath contorted her face.
The policemen halted in their movements. Holding you in place, they allowed you to face this stranger. This, you estimated, was highly unprofessional, and that sort of behavior was no oddity. It was because of their lethargy that she got to speak.
"(Y/N) (L/N), I despise you from the bottom of my soul. You have ruined so many lives, lives of children, of wives, husbands, brothers and sisters, and my life," she exclaimed hurriedly, and yet, unbeknownst to her, she was wrong. She neared you, and you could see the wrinkles excessive fury had caused her.
She inhaled deeply. You observed as she fiddled with her purse. Then, without a warning, she swang it and hit you with it in one swift movement. You couldn't react until it was too late. All you could do was yelp and close your eyes, and indulge in the impact. Commotion resonated around you, utterly unbearable against the pulsating ache inside your skull. Down you bowed your head, diligently tame in this chaos.
Reopening your eye offered some insight into this hassle. Other policemen rushed to restrain the woman. For once, you were grateful they were doing their job. But why, why were you subjected to violence?
She was not taken away. The cops only held her further from you. In what ought to be satisfactory justice, they allowed her to persist before you, and deliver whatever a mourning soul had to state.
The explanation was finally offered. "You don't know me, but you must know my husband, Vito Gaglione. You killed him!"
Pits of dread swallowed what was left of your confusion.
His days were over. Many of yours wouldn't arrive either. You'd been long aware: it mattered not. If bashing a corpse would aid the woman, make her feel any better, then you'd let her do it. And offer her, although insignificant, although so deeply heartfelt...
"I'm sorry."
A weightless apology. The woman tossed it aside with a curse and resumed her barrage. It was so fiendishly forceful; her emotions were too heavy for her voice, and it cracked, it was high time it cracked. With coughs and croaked insults, she scolded even more.
You sensed the wetness of her spit on your cheek, and you flinched. Her hatred dribbled down your soul, deepening its wide chasms. Did she know, could she even assume what harrowed the abysses of your vibrating chest? Sprouting from inner oblivion, came a bitter thought, correspondingly as dark: you were willing to play the role of a murderer, to make a stranger feel better. How utterly ridiculous.
Because, what if she found out you weren't guilty? That the true monster was forever on the loose, that you were his victim as well? More devastation, more strain on many fickle hearts. No – you knew better than to ruin it all. You'd give her cheap satisfaction. She needed to have her fit. It was only healthy.
The policemen made sure you embraced all of it. The two that held you, did not move. A couple of meters away, the woman was restrained too. She managed to reach you in ways not physical, but certainly impactful. Vocal were her wallops, and yet they shook your very essence, rendered you wicked, and for it, defenseless. The cops knew that. That's why they let it be.
"I pray that someday, you'll feel the same pain me and my family went through. I pray that your ice, no, stone heart melts, only so you could know what it felt like," she cursed rightfully.
You held your handcuffed hands close to you. Prison would be snug.
"Can you even feel? Are you even human? Does this even reach you?"
Your many mistakes accounted for it, you thought, agony slashing your heart. Your vision became blurry due to the sudden woe.
But your mind was clear. The very affliction was your pointer.
"No," you whispered. The response came out naturally; it was what she needed to hear.
With a victorious stance, she distanced herself from you. The policemen let her go.
"Monsters like you belong in prison." She clutched the fabric above her heart. "You won't ever harm anyone else. You won't get the satisfaction. Ever again."
You could discern some solemn tone in her statement. You could not see it, but your imagination made sure to visualize it: she must've started crying.
Your flimsy facade crumbled in an instant. For weeks, your nerves had been molested like never before. No matter the ravaged psyche, your body continued functioning, albeit faulty here and there – and your next action was but an inherent reflex.
Thus, the empathetic reaction to pain equaled pain: trembling lips, familiar warmth in your face. A tinge in your nose. You blinked and just like that, your tears ran amok.
And you were devastated. With furrowed eyebrows, eyes screwed shut, your momentary relief turned hostile. Salt had already reached the tip of your tongue – indeed, the tears were all over. Down the cheeks, down the chin, elegantly collapsing alongside your tender demise. You regretted shedding them. Monsters ought not to cry; weakness turned them irresistibly humane.
Your next breath was hitched. That was not how things were supposed to be. You were supposed to be the murderer. And in some other, even more idealized setting, the woman was supposed to be home, with her family gathered. Her husband, alive. And everything should've been reversed, so very different –
You bit your lip. Nothing could be changed. Nothing could be done. Before your spiraling got haywire, you had managed to bring back some sense. The present was very focused on you, and your focus on it was loose. So, you looked at her.
The woman was staring at your melting visage. Mute. She mustn't know you weren't the culprit. She mustn't have a single speck of doubt inside her, that it wasn't a monster who killed her husband. It would be easier to comprehend... and easier for you to manage it.
But it was so damn hard...! It crippled you, the fact you could not do anything, not speak a single word to help. You were worthless, you were scum – and you were treated accordingly.
One policeman had evidently decided it was enough of this one-sided conversation, so he pushed you to move. "Alright, this shit is over, off we go."
You muttered yet another apology before being dragged away. The harsh tug of the policemen excluded any opportunity for you to do anything. Make amends – any amends. And, and the woman did not say her goodbye...! Wasn't there supposed to be a final farewell? Was she going to leave unsatisfied? Conflicted, confused? Due to your tears –
And you wept, for you could not help her. For it wasn't over. For none of it was over.
You were lucky that the policemen held you. Otherwise, you would've fallen on your knees and begged the woman to strike you. Would the revenge offer her as much satisfaction as the fact you would be locked up? Oh, it would certainly make you feel relieved -
You were shaking profusely. No, no, this couldn't possibly end that way. She had to get her justice...! She had to –
You even turned around, to look at the woman one last time. Some man, dressed in pure white (how strikingly symbolical), had come to, possibly, comfort her – as he should. Be it a son, a friend, or even a stranger, an angel was what she deserved. You may have lost it all, but she had someone to guard her.
This was the good end you were hoping for. A heavy exhale escaped your wet lips. As ever, you weren't hasty to move on.
Inside the building, you listened to the echoes of your disgusting sobs. All of them, nasty to the ear. You were looking forward to the moment you'd be left alone, unprovoked, unbothered –
"Oi, calm down."
And unnoticed. The policeman gripped your arm, making you wince. You could feel your throat tighten; no sob would break out, you wouldn't embarrass yourself anymore. You took deep breaths through your nose in hopes of getting quiet. You had attracted many odd looks – and you ignored all of them. It's not every day a prisoner turns all tearful before being imprisoned.
After walking through mundane hallways, passing the administration, you were asked to leave all your belongings inside a crate of sorts. You were given clothes to wear as a prisoner – colorless drapes to match the vapid atmosphere.
Seeing yourself in that suit, you knew you were fully introduced to your end. This was your final transformation. To complete it, a ceremony was performed: you were guided down the hall into your very own dirty little chamber, where you would be left to rot. This was your funeral. A disgrace meant for a disgrace.
Locked and left alone, you didn't pay much attention to your confinement. All you needed was a place to sit, and you had a chair and a bed to do that. You resorted to the chair. It seemed cleaner.
Sprawled over the table before you, you finalized your life. It was a peaceful ending. You had to be grateful, for you would get to rest before passing away. Not many could boast about that.
Blinks slow and weak, you stared ahead, knowing nothing would be seen. It just so happened that your eyes had your hands before them, to focus approximately on them. How silly, to think you once believed you could do anything and everything with them. But your present dictated a tale completely opposite, which you learned not to care about.
You thought of it oftentimes. Your indifference was akin to that of a suicidal person, except yours sprouted from emotions starkly different: the requited love of life. Its finest decadence.
For deaf ears to hear, you sighed. This was an interesting way to kill it.
You were drained, emotionally, physically. It was no wonder that your mind slowly emptied itself, leaving nothing but a heartthrob to fuel it. Consequently, your vision lost its strength, and all turned distant. Even the blackish grime of the cell's interior.
Oh, but the darkness was abusive. It tormented your tired eyes, disfiguring itself into unstable murk. The wall before you held subtle picturesque on its dirty canvas. The one your lingering consciousness painted; colors were sickly, gradations close to none, and lighting – abhorrently absent.
Morphing in and out of meaningless shapes, the painting was merely a result of your exhaustion. You were sane enough to know that. Drowsy enough for your vision to fail.
A notion pecked at your skull. Stuck in the back of your mind, it was but a startling possibility, nothing you wouldn't handle: Secco could easily manifest through the wall. What then? What then, once your reflexes are harshly tugged at? Once this repugnant dog latches onto you?
With the same elated apathy, you came to a conclusion you wouldn't fight back. You had long overstepped the threshold of nihility. Greeting the numbness like an old friend, you recognized haven for your lacerated, poorly maimed heart. Found out, phlegm was a proper place to stay.
You were simply out of luck. Fate had graced you with many wonders, then left you bare-handed at the time you needed her hold. The damage was done, and the damage done could not be repaired; wailing would be nothing but a waste of vocal cords.
No pessimism lifted your thoughts. No bitterness heaved them; likewise, no animosity was harbored. You were drained of strong sentiments at the very dawn of your predicament. Even bodily exhaustion prevented them.
The realization that your thoughts revolved around thoughts, themselves, was... fascinating, to say the least. There it came – a chuckle, faint, much like a cascading huff. Thus came a tinge in your chest, and you clenched your teeth because of the pain.
No matter where you redirected your train of thoughts, you would suffer. You were in an unorthodox state, and yet, your reactions were all orthodox. You were unable to adapt to this final stage of your life. Much like prey that would lay still before its predator, you became sedated as you lived through your death.
Everything was over. You'd lost, you could rest. You found your thoughts turning incoherent, and with closed eyes, you indulged in the peace given. Murmurs of the outside world reached you through the window. It was the only lullaby you'd ever hear from that point. The temperature was just right; a breeze would reach you every now and then, stroking you gentler than so many recent touches.
You had all you needed. Being alone, unprovoked, unbothered, unnoticed – you could finally forget and be forgotten.
Through that resolution, you were comforted. Your consciousness managed to drift off to a dreamless sleep.
. . .
The napping came to a sudden halt. An abrupt flinch followed, and so, the privacy of your solitude was broken. The door to the hallway had been opened with a creak, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin.
An unfamiliar scent filled your nostrils. You opened one of your eyes, and spotted a tray with food and a cup of water, placed on the floor by your side. Too bad you didn't intend to eat it.
Watching through the slits of heavy lids, you awaited the arrival of the guard, sure to greet him with an ominous stare. You hadn't bothered to move from the table – you still lay sprawled across it, your butt barely finding leverage on the chair.
After announcing his arrival with stern tapping of boots, the guard finally stepped in front of your cell. You could hear him mingle with the keys; their jingle and its echo scraped against your sensitive ears. Your brows knitted together, displaying discontent so.
The cell door was opened with yet another unpleasant creak. Next came the guard's words: "On your feet, girl. You've been released."
You reopened your eyes. Nonsense. Questions were already swarming inside your head – you opened your mouth, but didn't know what to say. This was ridiculous. You just let out a yawn, lifted yourself from the table, and sat up, staring straight into the wall before you.
Whoever chose to play this nasty prank on you must've found it extremely amusing.
"Hey, you heard me?" The guard wasn't too understanding of your weird surprise.
You looked at him, your grim expression unfaltering. "I'm sorry, the joke isn't funny."
His brows furrowed. "Why would someone joke about this?"
You weren't skeptical about this. You didn't even try to believe it. "Who bailed me, then?"
"The hell I know. Come on now."
"Hmm. Fine." You stood up, lifting your hands upwards as a surrendering gesture. You hadn't been walking or eating almost all day, so getting back on your feet resulted in slight vertigo.
And then, everything was reversed. You got all of your belongings back, dressed up, walked outside of prison and attained the title of a free individual. Just like before, you were alone, except now – you had no idea what to do.
With no true vehemence in your thoughts, you stood there, watching the sunset. Going home didn't seem too pleasant, although you did originally plan to return, because your parents insisted on that. Your friends, some of them were okay, but... your home would only bring you pain. This entire process caused many of your "friends" to lie about you to the media. Some of them actually believed the news. Even your parents were swayed, just slightly swayed – and it was enough for you to know that your relationship would never be the same.
You didn't want to come back there and face it all. You were too exhausted. You wouldn't handle it.
On the other hand, depending on yourself was oddly comforting. Having little to no ties. But what to do with that freedom...?
You wondered if they already eliminated your stuff from your hotel room. Maybe you would scavenge something and see if it's worth selling. What to do afterwards, however? Your face was all over the news, and with your criminal record, you could hardly get a job anywhere –
"Cold-blooded murderers usually don't cry when faced with the consequences of their killings. You must admit, that was peculiar."
Before you came a man you'd never consider an ordinary bystander. He was wearing a suit all white, decorated with zippers here and there – and in its middle was a heart-shaped hole, revealing a tattooed, toned chest. Above, a face stern, brimmed with a bob cut of dark hair, and on it, two golden hairpins, shimmering as remnants of light hit them. The sunset only emphasized his sleek beauty, and yet, you were not fazed by it.
Appearance as such almost made you think you were dreaming, or at least hallucinating. It took you a while to propel your focus and clear your thoughts enough to realize that this indeed was happening.
Important was the fact that he observed your breakdown. You bit your lip, then gave your bitter response. "There's always a first."
By his expression, you concluded he did not believe you. With a brisk raise of his brow, he offered you his take on that matter. "And this isn't one."
You tilted your head. "How can you be so sure?" All he did was shrug.
"So, you bailed me on a whim," you added without thinking.
"Now that's a bold guess. How can you be so sure?" His lips curled in what seemed like a sly smile – when paired with his steady gaze, you were right to feel this man knew more than he let on.
"Well... nobody else could've done it." You rubbed your eyes. Everything about this seemed so surreal, and your drowsiness did not help one bit with comprehending it. "I mean, it was just a guess."
"Yet you guessed right."
"Wait... so you –" It seemed as if you'd discovered the truth only now, and yet, it didn't change much on your internal plan. Coolly, as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred, you said what ought to be said. "Thank you. I owe you everything, signore."
"And you are very welcome." He gestured towards you with his right hand. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions. Everything will be explained – care to join me?"
The question appeared more difficult once you'd given it some thought. Although he seemed to possess no ill intentions, you knew he had his reasons behind bailing you. If waged logically, you were willing to owe him – for he was the who granted you this new life.
You turned around, sparing one last glance at the prison door behind you. Be your intuition right or wrong, you had no option but to go ahead. "Si. Thank you once again, signore...?"
"No need. Bruno Buccellati." He offered a hand for you to shake it. Staring down at it, you saw offers of lawyers and journalists alike, and null was the sympathy behind those formalities. Nevertheless, you shook it, equally devoid of any expectations.
There wasn't much you could uncover by fixating onto his azure eyes. Buccellati was a serious man whose inner peace gave great composure to his antics. That was the feeling you had gotten, yet chose not to trust. Calm or not, a man may be vile. Psychopathy lay in that exact idle state.
So it came as no surprise that you retracted your hand as soon as you could. Carefully, you eyed him, his austere face and the few, if any changes it made. You could feel your jaw clench as your perturbation grew.
"Scusi, Buccellati, how did you... even manage to do it? I'm certain prominent influence and, of course, money is needed to release a convict like me," you asked him at last, one of the many questions you withheld.
He gestured for you to start walking, which you did. "Indeed. I am a member of Passione, the famiglia that oversees the city."
Your heart skipped a beat. Streets before you faded out of focus, just for an instant, where dizziness stole away your balance – and you almost fell. Stumbling a little, which Buccellati noticed, you managed to continue walking as if nothing happened. This mafioso next to you asked you if you were alright, and you nodded, your gaze avoidant of him.
"You are familiar with Passione," he noted.
Shock gripped at your throat. It had turned tight, like a clogged, neglected, pipe. A simple hiss of a "si" was all that you wheezed.
Buccellati heard it, so he began his reply. However, he was interrupted shortly afterwards. An old lady on the other side of the street greeted him, waved at him, even seemed happy to have seen him – an event that occupied your thoughts.
Once his attention was no longer stray, he continued with your discussion. "Know that I mean no harm, signorina. All sorts of people are gathered under the famiglia's wing, and as it's always been the case, we do not get to choose who else shares our blood."
A statement that gave you no relief. With a nod, you acknowledged it, and asked, "But why take me in then?"
"Your case has caught my eye. Many things did not add up, starting from your background, coming to your described behavior, and lastly, the very logic behind your alleged murders."
"Fortune wasn't really on my side." Neither was Cioccolata, you thought sarcastically.
"Sadly, yes, and I found out why. When I dug deeper, I found out a member of our famiglia framed you for his murders."
The fact he knew about your innocence was shocking – and rather relieving. For once, you found another person who was sure that you'd done nothing, who didn't doubt you in the slightest. "But, there's more to it, no?"
"Naturally. I've read that you used to be a prodigal student. Your other qualities seem to be that of a virtious person as well – I got to witness that myself. Going the furthest of distances to appease the lady wasn't the product of your moral tiredness. It was a product of its vivacity, and incredible emotional intelligence. After everything you've been through, I must say it's a remarkable trait. But no matter your strength on that field, I'm certain you wouldn't last in prison for longer than a couple of days."
Your eyes widened. Sheer surprise sped up your blinking. The compliment was almost ironical, and his analysis spectacular. You found the gravity of his words to be noteworthy – this mafioso, Bruno Buccellati, must've been an extraordinary person as well. Yet you were certain all of these explanations had a catch. That being, that your freedom, although just, would not come without a price.
"Which meant I had valid reasons to bail you. However, given the circumstances, I can't have done it easily," he continued.
"Thank you, and I hope it didn't cause you much trouble." You attempted reciprocating his kind tone.
"No, of course not. Having faced this problem, I sought a possible solution and its cost. At best, it happens to be your devotion to the famiglia, in order to pay this debt."
Your heart sank. "I should become a member as well?"
"Yes." He nodded, peering at you. "Do you consider yourself capable of doing that?"
Did he spot your change in emotions, or was he merely asking about your competence? "Hm. You're asking about the dirty work?" He nodded, luckily.
You thought of all the possible things you would be doing, all of them very wrong and very illegal. You had never wanted to see yourself in this situation, and although you could do and handle these things – they would simply feel wrong. You couldn't bear living such in such an ambivalent state, especially if your sole purpose was to just... be bad. Unless you had something else to do. Which reminded you of the mafioso who had accused you of murder.
"If it's an order, I suppose I'll have to do it. I'll handle it, but... the man who put me into jail... he has a job, although he is one of you." Locking your gaze with Buccellati's, you harnessed a hard look. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't that mean I'll also be able to develop a life of my own, outside the mafia?"
"You seem to have an opportunistic approach. I like that," he informed. Every time he mentioned a fact about you, you could feel you were being rediscovered for who you truly were. After so much time, you were no longer being dehumanized – and although you tried to suppress it, it felt so damn good. "And yes, aside from the services you'll have to offer and aside undeniable loyalty, you'll be able to cultivate your private life. So long it doesn't affect the famiglia, naturally. Disobedience, betrayal, are both severely punishable."
So, you could have hobbies, you could expand your interests – and just, work on yourself. Live normally aside from that job. That didn't seem too bad. "I understand. If that's so, then I'm positive I'll do well in the mafia."
"Despite the fact you might have a family and friends out there, thinking and worrying about you?"
You sighed. Coming back to them, although tempting, should be considered impossible. You were certain you wouldn't bear it – the very idea terrified you. You took some time to figure a response for Buccellati, for this truly was a delicate matter. And as you tried to devise it, you rationalized your membership in the mafia – and it seemed fine.
"Signore, I've come a long way. So did they. The process of this trial has severed some bonds I had in my homeland. As for my family... my parents have lost their minds too. The only thing I can do, right now, is to tell them I'm alright and explain what kind of life I'll be leading from now on. They'll know I'm fine, and that should be enough. There's nothing else I could do." You paused, having realized something. "How much money will I earn as a member of the Passione?"
"Enough to afford yourself a comfortable life."
There was more good in this situation after all – you'll be able to send money to your family, the very money you were supposed to earn as a hardworking student. Although you did not want to face them, you knew of their hardships, for once, they were yours as well. You were willing to help. It was the least you could do. "Molto bene."
Buccellati certainly realized what your intentions were, for he too seemed to have grown satisfied. "You've accepted all of this quite easily," he then pointed out.
That was what you'd wished to explain. "How else, signore? I don't have a choice. I've already been through hell and back, so this, although not ideal, is far better. I can't ask for more."
You were uncertain, however, if Buccellati found your mindset to be weird. He'd seen you cry because of a stranger, and now you were letting go of your dear ones so easily? And you weren't, pathetically enough, you weren't.
"I do not know you, signorina. So, if you still have ties that you wouldn't want to be severed, a life you'd like to come back to, people who you miss... feel free to tell me."
Those were the things you yearned to avoid; they would constantly remind you of your demise.
On the other side, you found change appealing. The volatile notion of a new life, of a new beginning, where you would be the one to solely define your path – it was far too good. To just leave everything behind. Take what you needed, then storm off into the great unknown.
Looking over to Buccellati, you uncovered sunset behind him, racing down one of the domestic streets of Napoli. Warm colors were all over, burning the Italian architecture, weaving a scenery oh so sentimental. Once you gazed upwards, you could see the outskirts of purple and black above you. You could draw a line that separated day and night, and yet.... dusk would always remain similar to dawn.
You enjoyed change as much as you feared it. Yet that of the skies, you found it to be inspiring so many times, even now, for it reached out to you. Showed you the beauty of the end and its resemblance to the beginning. This very instant, evening loomed over you. Wounds of your soul were open for the falling sun to scorch them – indeed, you were horribly injured. Moments away from crying at the very hint of nostalgia.
"I simply can't let myself miss them, signore. I'm hopeful we'll see each other one day, on good terms. Until then... I'm alive and free, and the possibilities are so wildly endless. That's enough of a consolation for me."
Buccellati's eyes widened. "There is hope for you, signorina," he said, and for the first time in this entire conversation, you heard the surprise in his deep voice.
You were quick to deny it.
"There isn't. Not at home."
The trembling of your voice meant that you had to stop.
You had to close your eyes and breathe deeply. The possibilities were endless back home as well. You would be considered a controversy, a nuisance, a patient, a poor ostracized soul, a liar, a psychopath... what not. That ordeal was overwhelming, far too hostile for your exhausted self. If even your parents and some friends, who loved you so much, managed to doubt you – then why come home at all?
With a grave look meant for Buccellati's deep blue eyes only, you realized you would never be able to look your parents in their eye like this. How to announce that you've escaped prison, if the verdict was clear? That the mafia released you?
"I wouldn't stand to return to such an environment. I know I won't be able to adapt. So, signore, please," you spoke with a desperately firm voice, "have no doubt that I'll do anything to belong somewhere, if anywhere." Your lips trembled, so you sank your teeth into them. You were so quick to break down, due to such minor things...!
Suffocating took on from that point onwards, and you swallowed. It would be horrendous if you began crying now – so you screamed at yourself, inside of your tired mind, to just stay calm, not to cry.
Suddenly, amidst that fierce inner battle, Buccellati took hold of your hand, clasping the both of his around your cold one. Tearful, you looked down, and at once, you were imbued with shock. This man cared.
You looked back at him, only to spot his reassuring smile through the blur. "I do not doubt in your resolve, (Y/N). You will belong." The grip was strong. And your vision cleared.
You bit your lip. It was so long since you'd last seen a friendly face that Buccellati's presence seemed like an exaggerated fantasy. "Good to hear. Grazie," you almost whispered.
He nodded. "Once again, you're welcome."
There was good, and Buccellati proved it to you. Through his hint of care, you finally realized – things weren't so bleak. You had to focus on the positives of this situation. You would start from the beginning, surely, and a low one, but at least you had it.
Wasn't your entire chase after a scholarship, after someplace better to live, focused on your dream, just a reflection of that... escapism? To start over, on your own?
The mafioso let go of your hand. "If your resolve is such, then I'll lead you into the famiglia with no regrets."
"No regrets here either," you told him. "I can't think about those things anymore. Per favore, let's continue talking about the entire... plan, or whatever."
You didn't have to explain any further. He took a piece of paper seemingly out of nowhere – maybe it was hiding in one of his zippers – and handed it over to you. Your gaze skimmed over it – some address was written in rather neat handwriting. Shockingly, it reminded you of that of your best friend's. Meaning, the writing was neat for a male, you corrected your thoughts after switching your focus back to Buccellati.
"Tomorrow morning, at ten, you'll visit a man named Polpo on this address. He is the capo who will conduct an interview and assess if you are worthy of becoming one of us."
That was unusually professional. But this was the mafia, some sort of entrance would have to exist. "If I may ask – what does an interview for the mafia even look like?"
"Just the usual sort. You'll speak to him, and he'll evaluate your abilities."
There was no way you'd fail this interview. You were indebted anyway. Therefore, you realized, the purpose of this interview would most likely be to just... assess what you were capable of. In this state, you were uncertain if you had any qualities the mafia would consider worthwhile.
So, the best thing you could do was just be yourself, for the first time after so long. That was the safest option, and the most pleasant option – though you feared you'd forgotten who you truly were.
"Alright. Thank you," you murmured. You'd just try to give it your best, and that would be all.
"Pardon me if the question is too intrusive, but, do you have a place to spend the night?"
You were a bit surprised because this indeed was an intrusive question, no matter what his intentions were. "Yeah, I've rented a hotel room." But... you'd soon be on the streets, because you would run out of money. Hopefully, the mafia paycheck would come in soon.
"Bene. Then, would you be willing to join me for dinner at a local restaurant? It's an excellent one. My treat."
You couldn't believe his kindness. Due to your very culture and a plethora of other reasons – some of them including distrust – you turned down his offer. "I can't accept, signore, you've already done so much for me. Although I'm grateful beyond measure, I simply can't accept."
Yet he insisted. "Please. It would be a pleasure – don't think of it as a burden."
"I'm sure you understand why I'm hesitating, and I'm sorry if I sound rude. But I really don't think I'm in the mood... or that I have the energy for dinner. It's getting late and I'll probably just want to sleep at some point. Not to mention I just... don't feel comfortable." Your clothes could pass, but you didn't wear any makeup and you were sure your hair wasn't in its best edition. Besides, the stress took a toll on you. It manifested itself as eye bags and skin a bit worse than usual.
He nodded. The mafioso kept his peaceful face as he spoke – oh, he was so accepting, you almost felt bad for denying. "I do understand. Which is why I won't force you to come." He stepped aside. "The decision is entirely up to you. If you'd like to be left alone or simply don't trust me, feel free to go. You have my complete understanding."
You shrugged, unsure what to do. With an awkward expression, you told him your reply. "If that's so, then, I should once again apologize... and thank you. I appreciate your offer nevertheless, but I think I'll get going."
"If that would be all, signorina, I should also ask you – do you have any questions?"
You shook your head. "None."
"Then, shall I consider this a farewell?"
"Sadly, yes, signore."
"In that case... arrivederci. Until next time."
"Arrivederci, signore."
And so, you bid your farewells. That was how you met Buccellati: under a formal tone, with unrestrained hearts.
You gave him a nod before walking away, face blank, for you were unsure what emotion to display. You were aided vastly, yet – could you truly settle down with the amoral lifestyle?
And just how amoral was it? If a man, like Buccellati, could maintain empathy as a mafioso... if he even had it. How much of his care was an act? Anyone could've done that which he did – just, take your hand, say a couple of nice words, and voila, you would feel better.
But your intuition, although abused, spoke otherwise. You were indebted anyway. He didn't have to console you, and yet, he showed that he cared. And the old lady who greeted him...!
Perhaps his soul was that of an angel. Angel... the realization rendered you flabbergasted. Oh, Buccellati...
You crossed your arms, staring at your savior's departure. Perhaps things weren't as grim, just this once, just during this fragment of your life – but you couldn't form a smile quite yet. It was meant for some better times.
Wherever did those better times lay? In front of you, or behind you? Or absolutely nowhere? You still didn't know. Much like scented flowers, all that had once brought joy, now wilted, turned sorrowful to the eye, repulsive to the nose. But you could scrap those, start anew. Thanks to Buccellati.
You kicked a pebble off the road. The feeling was nice.
That was when you made out that Buccellati's name was mentioned by some bystanders. Then someone almost yelled, much louder than before, "Did you see that?! That chick was talking with Buccellati!"
You immediately turned to look at the source of that statement. Wide eyes, you searched, afraid that someone might've targeted you – and your heart was once again in your throat, and once again, you were gasping for breath.
Across the street stood two men, both slim in build and with an uncanny dressing style. One of them, wearing mostly blue and red, had been pointing at you with his finger until he noticed you were staring at him. That was when he put his hand down and turned towards his friend. You heard he was cursing, but... enthusiastically?
You swallowed. Should you move on? Or react somehow? Paralyzed mentally, you looked at Buccellati and noticed that he too was standing still, his arms crossed. Did that mean disapproval on his side? Were those his enemies, rivals?
The man dressed in a monotone dark suit decided to walk away. The other one followed him. And so, your trance was broken out of – thank goodness they didn't care. You inhaled deeply and continued your way. You had only met two mobsters so far, and somehow, you attracted this much attention...? What kind of attention?
You turned around. At the brim of the sunset, you spotted that Buccellati and those two men came together, even engaged in a conversation. You hummed, relieved. No wonder they were colleagues, all of them dressed so oddly. Even Cioccolata wasn't dressed too normally.
So, would you have to... do that as well? But you didn't have such weird clothes at your disposal. And you didn't have enough money to buy something fitting. All that you owned was currently in that little hotel room...
You halted your steps. Did you truly want to go there? You'd have a whole night to overthink yourself – and that would be very much useless. On the other hand, if you chose to go with Buccellati, maybe that would offer new opportunities, whatever they were.
Once again, you whipped your head around. Just across the shadows, you could see them walking away. You wouldn't join them just yet.
Not now. You clenched your fists. You weren't able to do much, not in this fatigued, out-and-out demoralized state of yours. But fate was back in your grasp. For now, that was enough. Just enough to keep you going.
#jjba#jojos bizarre adventure#jojo#jjba cioccolata#jjba bruno#bruno buccellati#bruno bucciarati#cioccolata#secco#cioccolata x reader#vento aureo#jjba vento auero#jjba part 5#jjba oneshot#vento aureo oneshot#jjba fanfic#jjba x reader#jojos bizarre adventure x reader
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The first thing I thought of is when darling has wash day (afro hair gang~), who do you think will be more than likely to steal some of her hair after she cuts of the dead ends?
Oh no, and it'd be easy for them to do it too with how distracted you'd be. Now for the list.
Bruno
Cioccolata
Anasui
Melone
Kakyoin
Risotto
Ghiaccio
Sorbet & Gelato
#jjba yandere#bruno x reader#cioccolata x reader#anasui x reader#melone x reader#kakyoin x reader#risotto x reader#ghiaccio x reader#sorbet x gelato x reader
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Could we get dom!sub with cioccolata 👉👈
No I'm not answering these a day late what makes you think that
Anyway hi, thank you for requesting <33 I decided to try kinktober because I wanted a bit of a challenge with writing and my ass sure got it but talk aside let's get into this!
Btw quick shout out to some besties because I freaked with this oneshot and they helped me with the plot ily
You worked underneath the boss as his Consigliere. Although your job was important, there really wasn't much else to do besides shit around with La Unita Speciale and do nothing. When work did trickle in it was your job to manage teams and give any important business matter to Doppio to send to the boss. Today unfortunately one of the newer squadrons decided to fuck up their mission and get some men and bystanders killed during a provoked battle. The laid back vibe of the base went sour as you began a tangent with some lower ranked capo, grabbing the attention of a surgeon and his pet. They watched idly from the door as you walked in circles in your room, raising in volume and vulgarity as the shit heel on the other side of the phone decided he was less replaceable than he really was. The edge in your voice, your promise of violence, the angry vein pulsing in your neck, it turned him on.
Until this point your conversations with Cioccolata consisted of playful banter and flirty comments but now Cioccolata knew he wanted you deeply. You made him feel things he wasn't sure he could ever feel before, lust, the urge to be dominated and humiliated, it was all so tempting.
He waited patiently for you to cease, which didn't stop for a while, all through it he enjoyed hearing you speak. You ended strong promising to see him in hell.
"...Mark my fucking words dipshit, this time tomorrow yer gonna be dead rotting in the fucking sewer! Vai a soffocare con la merda di maiale, stupido stronzo!" You slammed the phone down on the coffee table before walking away to your computer, you stopped midway upon seeing Cioccolata and his mutt in the doorway.
"Ah, Cioccolata. Just who I need. Listen, I need you and Secco to go kill this asshole. In case you missed it, he's fucked up an undercover mission down in Naples, I'll send you some more info after I clear everything else up."
"Actually my dear, I think I'll stay right here." His grin stretched across his face to show jagged teeth as he stalked closer to you.
"The hell did you just say? Now's not the time to play games."
"Oh, but amore, I'd love to have you play with me. That fire in your eye... It's beautiful."
"The hell did you just say, you creep?" As disgusting as he was, you wouldn't step down from Cioccolata. He didn't scare you. He was a freak who had trouble keeping his distance on the job, but he never stepped too far over the line. Was this just another ploy at getting your attention or was he really trying to insinuate something?
"I'll just tell it to you plain then. I want you, more than ever. You seem stressed, why don't you and I take care of that later tonight, together?"
"...Secco, leave." The tinier man whimpered at your heavy tone but did as told. Cioccolata was getting just what he wanted, making his grin grow wider by the time you grabbed his chin in a possessive hold. "Of course a freak like you would love to be dominated by a woman. I bet you want me to throw you around and treat you like a whore, too, hmm? Fine, I'll bite. Work has been stressing me the fuck out lately and I've been looking for a toy I can use."
"Sounds lovely, amore."
Date set, Squalo and Tiziano took Cioccolata's place on your mission, fortunately agreeing to take Secco along with them once you asked. Bless them. You had Cioccolata and the base alone for the rest of the night. You settled underground in your resting room. With no natural light you worked by the lamp on your bedside table. You sat snug at the foot of your bed with Cioccolata's head between your plush thighs, licking up your folds like a man starved. Between every flick of his tongue there was a whimper that hit your ear like a musical note. You were unsure if this was his first time giving head but he did it like a fucking pro. Between his own legs his dick stood heavy and stiff and angry, a small bullet vibrator strapped to its head buzzing wildly. With a tilt of your head you could see the slit drooling precum already. As a warning you bumped up the vibration with a remote, making him whine and flinch deeper between your legs.
"Remember Ciocco~ if you cum without permission I'll make sure you don't stop until your pumped dry."
He finally left your legs to look up at you. Your fluids covered the bottom half of his face with his pupils dilated to tiny dots. "Yes, mistress." He still sounded far too smug.
"Good boy!" You pushed his face farther away to check his work. You deemed yourself ready and kicked him back into the floor after turning off his vibrator. Without missing a beat your foot pressed down on his chest, keeping him there. His hands wrapped around your ankle but didn't move, he only looked up desperately at you.
You clicked your tongue, looking him over as you trailed lower to add pressure on his weeping cock. He wiggled like a bug underneath your foot, and you grinned.
"I knew you were a freak, but I'll be honest, this never crossed my mind. Don't think I don't like it though."
Click, You started up the vibrator once again, starting another edging session with him. Cioccolata groaned and started to roll his hips into the air, trying to get any friction. "Oh, quit acting like a whore. You want to cum? We've been at it for a while."
He keened against the rug, "Yes! Please let me cum, mistress!" With a smug and oh so sadistic smile, you simply upped his vibration to watch him writhe on the floor more.
"Then beg me for it."
#steamy writing#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jjba#cioccolata#cioccolata x reader#kinktober#brb going to eat my couch#this was genuinely a neat idea i might add on to this later#golden wind
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