#jjba imagine

[married-to-google-translater]

I have an interesting idea. Reader is a friend of Jonathan, Dio tries to attract Reader but Reader rejects him because Jonathan told what Dio has done to him and Erina, which makes Dio surprised to see that Reader didn't fall for his charms but this makes Dio feel more obsessed with reader.

Dio Brando

Jonathan has a friend?

Well, not long if Dio can make a difference.

Dio has a "destroy my adopted brother's relationship" speedrun going on.

And you were going to destroy it.

Okay you were friends with Erina and Jonathan.

And you had heard stories about Dio's "nice" personality.

You didn't think much of it though.

Because Dio didn't show any interest in you.

At first, Dio would focus on destroying Erina and Jonathan's friendship.

Next would be the turn of you and Jonathan's friendship.

Dio tried to approach you with charm and kindness.

But you… weren't really interested.

Dio had never seemed like someone you could get along with.

So you would avoid him.

Dio wouldn't understand that.

This will make him try to hang out with you more.

Dio wouldn't take no for an answer.

Imagine if he tried to kiss you… and you punched him in the face.

Dio really doesn't know how to handle this.

You really can't get rid of him.

Even when he becomes a vampire.

Dio's obsession would still exist.

Maybe he should get a life XD

[lanawrx]

Johnny Joestar crushing on Reader at first sight

a/n: Johnny is so sos o sos o soso soooo cuuuteeee <33 my cutiepatootie my lil gumdrop, my lil sad blue Kentuckian 🥺

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Johnny had been staring at you from a distance, like a moth drawn to a flame, since the very moment he laid eyes on you before the Steel Ball Run began. He couldn't quite explain it, but there was something about you that stirred something deep inside him, like the first taste of sweet tea on a hot summer's day.

The Steel Ball Run was about to kick off, and while Johnny's focus was on the race, he couldn't help but keep an eye on you. Your presence seemed to shine brighter than the desert sun. He saw you laughing with friends, your smile as warm as a southern sunrise. It was a sight he couldn’t shake from his mind.

As the race progressed, Johnny’s heart skipped a beat every time he spotted you by chance. He had a rough exterior and nerves of steel when it came to the competition, but when it came to you, he felt like a schoolboy with a crush, unsteady and unsure.

Despite the numerous women he had bedded in his prime, the feelings he had for you were new, pure, and most of all, terrifying.

You were beautiful, and even with your dusty riding gear and dirt-smudged face, he couldn't help but freeze at the thought of going up to you.

He didn't deserve you. He was so sure of that.

But he wanted to, though. So badly.

The day of the next stage, he found himself at a dusty tavern, nursing a drink and trying to calm the jitters that had taken up residence in his chest. Gyro, the charismatic person that he is, was chatting animatedly with some locals. Johnny, however, was distracted, his gaze frequently darting toward the door.

And then, as if the universe had heard his silent wish, you walked into the tavern. Johnny’s heart leapt. He watched you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. Gyro noticed and nudged him with a knowing grin.

“Nyoho! Looks like you got yourself a little something on your mind, Johnny,” Gyro teased.

Johnny flushed and shoved Gyro, praying the bastard wouldn't do something to make him look a fool.

"Shut it, Gyro. And don't you dare do somethin' stupid!" Johnny hissed, balling up his fist and trying to look small in his wheelchair to avoid your potential gaze, no matter how much his heart was begging for your eyes to land on his own baby blues.

"Johnny-boy, you wound me! I'd never do such a thing." Gyro snickered, slumping in his chair to show that he was harmless.

The blue-eyed blonde rolled his eyes, feeling wary of Gyro's habit to cause trouble. But the Italian had a point, his mind had been stuck on you ever since he saw you. That bright smile of yours lifted his mood like no other whenever he thought about it, and the small glimpses he caught of you whenever you crossed paths on the trek of the past stage made his body tingle and his face warm.

If his legs still worked, he was sure he'd still end up in a wheelchair with the way you made him feel weak.

Johnny suddenly felt the weight of his insecurities. His legs—lame and useless—seemed heavier than ever. He was convinced that someone like you could never be interested in him. But he couldn’t deny the pull he felt.

He glanced over to you, spotting you just a few feet away waiting on some refreshments you ordered at the bar. The bar wasn't too tall, either. You were at the perfect height to talk face-to-face if he was sitting next to you.

Next to you...

Johnny entertained the thought, imagining the two of you laughing together, talking about how you both got halfway across the country for the chance to win a grand prize of $50 million dollars.

He'd gaze at your lips, wondering how even in the western heat can they look so glossy and kissable.

"Guh!" Johnny covered his face with one hand, feeling his cheeks burn.

He hated feeling like this, like some inexperienced teenage boy at the thought of just staring at your lips.

And with the impulse of a teenage boy, he figured that to remedy these pesky feelings, he should just get it over with.

Gathering his courage, Johnny puffed up his chest and approached you. He suddenly felt a little awkward, his hands trembling slightly as he wheeled himself over to you.

“Uh, hey there. I, uh, noticed you around and thought you might like a drink. It’s on me,” he said softer than he had intended, his voice carrying the faintest hint of a Kentucky drawl.

You looked up at him with a curious smile, your eyes sparkling like stars in the night sky. Johnny felt like he might faint right then and there. His mind raced with self-doubt. Why would you want to talk to him? He felt so small and unworthy.

"How kind of you. Joestar, right?" You smiled.

And he melted.

"I- uh, yes! Joestar, my last name. You- you've kept an eye on me, or somethin'?" He fumbled, face warming at his bumbling demeanor.

This was not going the way he had planned.

"Mm, somethin' of the sorts," you mumbled with a shy look in your eyes.

You seemed so docile now that he was talking to you. But he could appreciate that. Made it easier to talk when he knew you were feeling just as nervous. Or at least, you seemed that way.

"Well, go ahead then. Whatever you want, it's on me," he gently urged, taking your responses as an invitation to sit next to you as he wheeled in closer to the bar.

"I'll let you know; real sweet, that's how I like my drinks." You ordered the sweetest damn thing on the menu, and he wasn't surprised. Your tastes matched your looks.

The two of you chatted in the bustling atmosphere of the tavern. Getting to know each other, hearing about how the last stage went for each of you. And he liked it, talking to you. It was easy, and it was as refreshing as the drink you were sipping on.

Johnny glanced over at Gyro, who was still engrossed in conversation with the locals, but occasionally shot Johnny a glance and a thumbs-up, clearly pleased with how things were going. Johnny shook his head slightly, amused by the gesture.

“So,” you said, your voice softening, “you’re really set on winning this race, huh?”

Johnny nodded, his expression growing a bit more serious. “Yeah. It’s not just about the money, though that sure would be nice. It’s... it’s about proving something. To myself, more than anything.”

You tilted your head slightly, your gaze searching his. “Proving what?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “That I’m still worth something. That even with everything that’s happened, I can still... I don’t know. Make something of myself.”

Your expression softened, and Johnny felt a pang of vulnerability as he looked into your eyes. He was afraid that you’d pity him, that you’d see him as just another broken man trying to piece together the remnants of a shattered life. But there was no pity in your gaze, only understanding.

“You’re worth more than you think, Johnny,” you said quietly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re out here, giving it everything you’ve got. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”

Johnny swallowed, his throat tight. He wanted to believe you, wanted to hold on to those words and let them seep into the cracks of his self-doubt. But it was hard. He’d spent so long feeling like a shadow of his former self, like he was less than what he used to be. But here you were, seeing something in him that he couldn’t quite see in himself.

Before he could respond, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “And for the record, I think you’re cute. I’d love to see you again in the next stage.”

Johnny’s breath hitched, and his heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. He was stunned, his mind scrambling to process what you had just said. Cute. You thought he was cute. The words played over and over in his mind, each repetition making his heart swell a little more.

He turned to face you, his blue eyes wide with a mix of surprise and something that felt dangerously close to hope. “You... you really mean that?”

You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I do. So, what do you say? Think we can catch up again after the next stage?”

Johnny nodded, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, I’d like that. A lot.”

As the two of you continued talking, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that little corner of the tavern.

And when the time came to part ways, Johnny felt a warmth in his chest that hadn’t been there before. He watched you leave, his heart lighter than it had been in years. As he wheeled back over to Gyro, the older man gave him a knowing grin.

“Well, Johnny-boy, looks like you’ve got yourself a date for the next stage.”

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle, his eyes still lingering on the door where you’d just exited. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

For once, the race didn’t seem so daunting. The road ahead might be long and grueling, but now, Johnny had something more to look forward to.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡ Thanks for Reading! ˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

[dollwrites]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — 𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, dark fic, noncon, fear kink, graphic depictions of death and gore, chasing, manhandling, threats against reader, degradation, virgin!reader, oral sex ( f!receiving ), size kink, blackout mention, Dio is very mean, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ sugar on my tongue by the talking heads

you could hear his laugh— evil and taunting— booming through the abysmal corridor behind you, and the hissing and snarling of his undead army that was also in hot pursuit. “Where are you running off to, hmm?” he calls, and the baritone surrounds you. he’s not everywhere, you try to tell yourself, it’s just the echoes. “I won’t let you leave the castle grounds. However, by all means, go on and try, get your sweet blood pumping!” another morbid laugh like distant thunder, and you take the first new hallway that opens up to the left. “I can smell it from here, that lovely smell will lead me straight to you.”

you’d made a mistake coming here so late at night, with a boy you hardly even knew. you’d kissed him, and let him loosen your corset, even though you felt uneasy. even though you’d never kissed a boy before. even though the whole night felt wrong. then, the laughter started. from somewhere deep in the blackest shadows, a predator stalked, watched, and found amusement in your innocent fumbling and uncertainty, and stepped into the light. he named himself Dio right before he ripped the boy in half right in front of you. some of his blood was still seeping into the cotton of your dress. what he hadn’t seen, however, was the jagged stone you’d hidden underneath your skirt, clutching it tight in the palm of your fragile hand. so, whenever he scooped you into his arms, and leaned in to taunt you, or perhaps even kiss you, you’d swung the rock as hard as you could, making direct contact with his sculpted cheekbone, breaking the skin. it wasn’t much, but it was enough for his grip to loosen enough so that you could slip through his arms and run.

you were panting, your lungs burning in your chest, your eyes puffy and sore from crying. but one glance over your shoulder yielded the confirmation; the reason you couldn’t stop— hundreds of ghouls had crammed themselves into the hallway, some staggering after you, others chasing you on all fours. you turn your eyes forward again, ignoring the hem of your skirt that catches on a dilapidated and unrecognizable statue, ripping a slit all the way up to your thigh, and both hands hit a sturdy door when you hit the dead end of the corridor, slamming yourself into it with a pathetic huff. luckily, the door, like the rest of the manor, is old and crumbling, and it whines as it flies open and you stumble over the threshold, only to let out a blood curdling scream.

inches from your feet is a pile of innards, and what could’ve been a corpse at one time, but has since been devoured, piece by piece, by the monsters squatting down over it. they both look up and growl, clumps of half-eaten human flying from their bloodied mouths as you stumble back. you wanted to collapse, but didn’t have the time.

countless pairs of gruesome hands snatched at you, dragging you into a horde of them. you wailed and fought against them, half expecting to be shredded, too. you weren’t, however you could hear — and feel — your dress tearing as they snatched at you. your neckline ripped, one sleeve hanging loosely against your arm and the other chunk of fabric lost in the sea of rotting bodies as they tossed you back and forth. your throat is hoarse from screaming when you’re finally spit out the opposite end of the crowd, and flung right into Dio’s arms, which welcome you with a tight grip on one wrist and the other palm splayed over your midriff, pulling your back to his solid frame. “No!” you cry out, but he’s already twisting your wrist.

“Now, now,” he croons against your neck, wringing your wrist until the blood-stained stone falls from your grip and clatters against the floor, “listen to that heart thumping.” you felt sick to your stomach when you realized he could hear it. “Fragile, little thing is about to beat right out of your chest.” you squirm, trying desperately to pull away from him, but his lips have sought out the cuts on your palm, turning it over to expose them to his mouth. first, they graze over the wounds, and you wince. “You’re about as nervous and dangerous as a newborn kitten.” his tongue slithers out to prod at the scratches, urging more blood to the surface, and he smirks as he tastes it. his lips then travel, parted and dragging over your skin, up your arm, ignoring the sleeve that hangs in tatters, and he presses you back into him tighter when he reaches your throat. “So soft— I could rip your jugular out with one bite.”

“P—please—“ you rasp, the tips of his fangs tingling against your hypersensitive flesh.

“Such a meek, little plea,” he teases, the expanse of his massive hand careening upwards over your breast to rest against your heartbeat, his digit tips just barely touching your chin, “what are you begging for, kitten?” he allows their sharpness to scrape, and you whimper, melting against him and hoping to become so small he couldn’t reach you. it was impossible, as his face was buried in your neck already, but you tried nonetheless.

“I—I don’t want to die…”

he laughs at this, as does his minions, and you feel a burning humiliation creep upon your cheeks. “No? Are you afraid of dying?” he asks, feigning sympathy, and his fingers take hold of your face. he angles it towards him, and your tear-filled gems look up at his stone-cold countenance. you nod, the scratch on his cheek was healing as you watched, and your mountainous captor stared down at you. the crown of your head is pressed against his chest; you were just so damn small compared to him. “Are you afraid of me?” another nod, and his crimson eyes flicker over your petrified expression. you couldn’t catch your breath— your lips parted and hot puffs of air wheezing out, your chest rising and falling beneath the stretched fabric of what was left of your neckline. you avoided looking into his eyes, but you could tell he was drinking in every inch of you. “Smart decision for a very stupid girl.” he replies, dipping his head towards you. you start to pull away, recoil, but his grip on your cheeks hold you in place. that devious tongue of his skirts along his lower lip, tasting your broken breath as it lands on his tiers. then, his carmine eyes flicker up to yours, and his smile widens, “Tell me that you fear me.”

you couldn’t even think— you were staring, wide eyed and horrified into two, piercing rubies. he wanted to hear how scared you were, he wanted you to say it out loud, but there was a lump so big and dry in your throat that you didn’t think you could force the words past it.

“Come now, don’t keep me waiting.”

you gasp when he squeezes your cheeks together hard, forcing your lower lip to poke out in a childish pout, and you acquiesce to his will. “I’m afraid,” you whisper, each syllable hard pressed to slip into the air, “I’m— I’m afraid of you—“

Dio chortles, closing what was left of a gap between he and you, and his tongue ran along the shape of your lips. you flinch, and seal them tight, but he’d already gotten his taste. “Mm…” he moans, more to himself, and runs his tastebuds over his own mouth, and then flicks at his fangs. “I do love the taste of fear on those pretty lips, like sugar…” he croons and places a sloppy kiss on your mouth. regardless of how you wanted to reject it, he forces your lips to fit against his with a hard push, opening them wide so that he may shove his tongue inside. you squeal in protest against his mouth, wriggling and desperate to get free, but his strength too greatly outweighed your own. your own tongue bunches up in resistance, trying to push his out of your mouth, but you start to gag on it. you considered biting down on his, biting it off even, but ultimately decided against it.

you were in no position to fight back anymore.

when he’s drank his fill of your kiss, he pulls back, the lips that have battered your own dripping and shiny with your saliva and stretched over deadly fangs, and you pant, twisting in his grip. he watches you for a moment, amused. “I would wager you taste just as sweet everywhere, don’t you?” you shook your head, cheeks on fire and eyes closed tightly, pulling in the opposite direction, but his hand drops, grabbing the neckline of your dress in a powerful fist and tearing it with a swift yank. the force is enough to arch your back, the fabric screaming, and then your breasts are bare and exposed, rising with heavy, nervous breaths.

there’s a whooping from the horde of undead as they crowd closer around, licking and biting at the air as if they can taste your fear in it, and you recoil away from them, pushing you deeper into Dio’s wicked embrace, which wasn’t ideal, either.

“Look at this,” he purrs, sharp nails dragging over your otherwise unmarked skin. they trace his name, slowly, as he takes in your visage, “skin so fresh and supple.” his eyes twinkle, pure malevolence behind them as the tip of his nail traces your nipple, watching it harden as he does. “I could think of a hundred different ways to paint you crimson, my dear.” you shake your head, whimpering in soft protest, and he cocks his head to the side, “What? You don’t think red would look so pretty on you? The color of roses?” he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of your tender breast and squeezing until you mewl and sag into the rough treatment, “Timid, little thing, aren’t you? Frightened so easily.” his head dips, tongue dragging along your nipple, and when you gasped, your thighs clamping together to stop the feeling of his teasing flooding your core, he reads you like an open book. “I think you like this.” you start to shake your head yet again, but his hand has already abandoned your chest, hiking your skirt up to feel between your thighs. they were slick with sweat and… something else. your desire and shame. “You’re dripping, kitten. Do you enjoy my teasing that much?”

your thighs press harder into each other, but his fingers work to pry them apart, slipping in between to feel your bare sex. you choke back a gasp, your only free hand grasping at his wrist trying to pull it from your core as you jerk against his rubbing, but it was as effective as an ant trying to push a thumb away before it’s crushed beneath the force. “N—no…” but, much to your own dismay, you were soaking his fingertips and he was howling with amusement.

“Well, now, isn’t this cunt just so sensitive— I’ve hardly even touched you, and you’re all jitters already. Could I have caught a little virgin in my web?” humiliation floods your eyes, and you close them tight, turning your face away from him and digging your chin into your shoulder. he coos, leaning close enough for you to feel the chill or his skin against your cheek, and the ghastly drag of his lips as he spoke, “Good. The first and only cock you’ll ever wrap around will be Dio’s, your new master.”

“…I want to wake up…” you beg under your breath. surely, this had to be a terrible nightmare. so you kept biting down on your lip and repeating it. “I want… to wake up…”

“Eh?” he asks, grinning, “Stupid thing thinks she’s dreaming.” a wave of vicious cackling rolls through the corridor, and you shudder. a moment later, you feel him shifting, dropping to his knees in front of you. cautiously, you crack one eyelid and look down to see him ripping what was left of your skirt aside. there’s a flurry of cotton before it all settles on the floor. you shiver, stumbling back. Dio releases your wrist and grasps one ankle, hiking it up on to his shoulder. it threw your balance completely off; even on his knees, the man before you was still monstrous, and you were forced to stand on the tip toes of the opposite foot to stay upright. “Let’s find out if fear makes your cunt as sweet as your lips.”

both eyes opened wide, but you had no time to react before he was smashing his face against your sex, the bridge of his nose creating a solid cradle for your aching clit, and the thick muscle hiding in his mouth wiggled between your netherlips, gathering the taste of your essence on to his tastebuds. he growled, and the sound vibrated against you, sending every nerve into overdrive. both your hands dig into his golden locks, pulling hard to attempt to force his head back, but the scratching and scrambling didn’t phase him one bit. he didn’t budge, instead he laughed, then his words were slurred against you. “Don’t be so ungrateful,” his eyes glint in the dusky moonlight pouring through a broken window, and it seems so shameful and sinful to look down your naked torso at him. you could see the muscles in your own tummy contract when he nuzzled against your clit, and you clamped one hand over your mouth to keep your moans quiet. crying out for how good it felt would only make this all too real— and would give him the satisfaction of knowing that you couldn’t control it. “Your new god is on his knees for you, lapping at your trembling pussy. You should be singing my praises.” none too gently, he snags your clit with his teeth, creating a vice around it and rolling his tongue over the nub.

you bleat, and your knees buckle— the sole leg holding you up giving out. but Dio doesn’t let you crumble. with one hand fleeing, he wraps a massive fist around your throat to hold you in place, the furious muscles of his gargantuan arm hard and bulging against your torso. the pressure is enough to startle you, even though he doesn’t squeeze. you imagine the beast of a man could break your neck with little effort. this new grip occupies your mind, and your hands try to wrap themselves around his wrist instead, but it’s even too big for your fingertips to meet.

“You are a pathetic little kitty cat, aren’t you?” he teases, suckling on your clit until you see stars behind your eyelids, and your toes are curling, “You can’t even stand up on your own anymore. Just a few, easy flicks of my tongue and you’re putty in my hands. Makes my cock hard watching you lose this fight, knowing you know you’re fucked.”

you don’t want him to be right, but when he punctuates his statement by licking a fat stripe between your netherlips, you cry out, and your nails dig into his tough flesh. “Please!! Ha— have mercy…”

“Go on,” he urges, “cry for mercy. Scream for me. It won’t change a thing. You belong to me, now, and I’m going to break you in every way possible, starting with tongue fucking never ending orgasms out of your delicate, little body until it gives out. You’ll black out, and wake up to my big cock stretching you open.”

[naomijoestar]

⋆.ೃ JJBA SCENARIOS ࿔*:･

Masterlist here <3

genre: fluff

warnings: none

characters: bucciarati, abbacchio, mista, narancia, fugo, giorno, trish

notes: F!reader, I wanted this to be perfect since I have been neglecting you guys lately, but I’m sorry if it’s not as good as my other work, I’m sick and have been quite lazy but I still wanted to post something :)

Bucci gang members react to making their unemotional s/o belly laugh

Bruno Bucciarati

He likened a stand battle to “two pastries fighting over which one gets to be dunked in coffee first.” The sheer absurdity of it, especially coming from him of all people, caught you off guard, and before you knew it, you were laughing harder than you ever expected.

Bruno would be taken aback for just a second, his sharp eyes widening as he registers the sound of your laughter, something he rarely, if ever, hears. As the seriousness fades from his face, his features soften into a gentle smile. He’s always respected your calm demeanor, never pushing you to express yourself in ways you weren’t comfortable with, but seeing you belly laugh? That’s a gift. He wouldn’t say much in the moment, perhaps something like, “I’m glad I could make you laugh,” in his calm and soothing voice. He’d likely reach out to brush a strand of hair from your face. For the rest of the day, he’d carry that memory close, and he might even go out of his way to gently tease you later, trying to recreate that moment. Beneath it all, though, is a deep sense of contentment, knowing that he’s made you feel something so pure and genuine.

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio had been making dry, sarcastic remarks about Mista’s antics when he suddenly mimicked the way Mista usually ran into battle, complete with exaggerated arm movements and a goofy expression. You’d never expected him to be that dramatic—especially with his serious, brooding exterior—so seeing him so suddenly and unexpectedly imitate his friend with such deadpan accuracy made you lose it.

Leone might at first not know what he’s hearing, especially if your laughter is something completely new to him. He’d probably do a double-take, blinking in disbelief, before his lips would twist into a subtle smirk. His usual gruff demeanor would crack just a bit, and although he wouldn’t outright comment on your sudden burst of joy, there’s no denying the soft warmth in his eyes. He’d watch you, relishing the sound, silently amused and more than a little proud of himself. Later, he might poke fun at you in that dry, sarcastic way of his, something like, “Didn’t know you had it in you,” all the while concealing how much it actually meant to him to see you let go like that. Abbacchio wouldn’t push you to laugh more, but deep down, he’d always treasure that moment as one of the rare times he got to see that side of you.

Guido Mista

Mista decided to dramatically reenact a tragic scene from a soap opera he’d seen, with fake sobbing, swooning, and rolling on the floor. It was so over-the-top, and combined with the Pistols’ enthusiastic cheering, you couldn’t hold it in.

Mista would be over the moon. The second your laughter hit his ears, his whole face would light up, and he’d immediately start laughing along with you, his signature carefree energy only amplifying the moment. “I knew I could get you!” he’d exclaim, pointing at you in excitement like he’d just cracked some impossible code. He’d probably make it his new mission to keep trying to make you laugh, constantly cracking jokes or doing something silly to see if he could get that reaction again. “Oh man, this is great! You’ve got such a cute laugh!” he’d tease, completely unfiltered. The Pistols, of course, would be all over the moment too, chiming in with their usual banter, “See? We’re hilarious!” Mista would never let you live it down, but it’d all be in good fun, because deep down, he’s genuinely happy to have brought out such a joyous response from you.

Narancia Ghirga

Narancia had been arguing with Mista about something incredibly trivial, like who had the best dance moves. In the middle of their back-and-forth, Narancia suddenly busted out a dance, flailing his arms around while singing off-key at the top of his lungs. It was so unexpected that you couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably at the sight of him dancing like no one was watching.

At first, he wouldn’t even believe it. “Wait, you’re laughing?!” he’d shout, eyes wide with excitement as he watches you. His energy would immediately match yours, maybe even go beyond it. He’d start laughing too, loud and infectious, almost like he couldn’t control it. “I did it! I made you laugh!” he’d say, full of pride, practically bouncing on his feet. He’d be so proud of himself, and he wouldn’t be able to resist mimicking the damce moves that made you laugh, just to see if he could get that reaction again. For the next few days, he’d probably keep bringing it up, reminding you of how he got you to crack. “See? I knew I was funny!” But beyond all the teasing, there’d be something more tender in his wide grin—pure happiness at seeing you break out of your usual reserved nature, if only for a moment.

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo had been tutoring you on some random fact he’d picked up. He was getting more and more worked up, and just as he was reaching his point, he completely lost his train of thought. His frustration bubbled over as he let out a long, exaggerated groan, slumping in his chair dramatically. His sudden change from intense focus to utter exasperation caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter at how serious he’d been about it.

Fugo’s reaction would be a mix of surprise and confusion. At first, he’d freeze, staring at you like he couldn’t quite process what was happening. He’s so used to your calm, composed nature that hearing your laughter, especially something as unrestrained as a belly laugh, would be a bit of a shock to him. After a beat, a small, incredulous smile would tug at the corners of his mouth. “You’re…laughing?” he’d ask, still trying to wrap his head around it. His expression would soften, and even though he might not say much, you’d notice a quiet sense of pride in his gaze, knowing that he brought you a moment of joy. Fugo isn’t one to openly express his emotions, but from then on, you might catch him stealing glances your way, as if he’s hoping to recreate that moment—only in a quieter, more subtle way, like a shared inside joke.

Giorno Giovanna

He casually mentioned how Mista’s stand could easily solve a math problem that had been troubling you, “He could just shoot at the wrong answer and the bullet would find the right one.” The deadpan delivery paired with the sheer absurdity of the idea coming from Giorno of all people, made you laugh before you could stop yourself.

Giorno’s response would be understated, but deeply appreciative. When he hears your laughter, his first instinct would be to observe, taking in the sight of you laughing so freely, as if committing it to memory. His expression wouldn’t change drastically, but there would be a notable shift in his eyes, a kind of warmth that wasn’t there before. “I’m happy I could make you laugh,” he’d say softly, his voice laced with sincerity. He wouldn’t push the moment or draw too much attention to it, but you’d feel his affection in the way he looks at you, a kind of quiet understanding passing between you. Giorno values your reserved nature and respects it deeply, but seeing you let loose, even for a moment, would feel like an intimate victory for him—proof that you feel safe enough to open up around him.

Trish Una

Trish had been ranting about something that annoyed her, when she suddenly realized how ridiculous her rant sounded. With a dramatic sigh, she flopped down next to you and imitated herself, making her voice high-pitched and whiny, mocking her earlier complaints. “Oh nooo, my nail polish chipped! What ever will I do” she said in an exaggerated tone, throwing her hands in the air. Her imitation of herself was so spot-on that you couldn’t help but crack up.

Trish would absolutely love it. The second you start laughing, she’d probably gasp in exaggerated surprise, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh my God, I made you laugh!” she’d say, her voice full of delight. She’d move closer, maybe even gently grab your arm or hand, as if to keep the moment going. Trish would bask in the joy of seeing you so open, knowing how rare it is for you to express yourself so freely. “I knew I could get you!” she’d tease, flashing you a confident grin. For the rest of the day, she’d feel a kind of glowing pride, not so subtly reminding you about how she cracked your tough exterior. “You should laugh more often—it suits you,” she might say, giving you a playful wink. The moment would bond the two of you even closer, as she sees your laughter as a sign of trust and comfort in her presence.

If you liked this make sure to check out my other work! If you want me to write anything for any jjba character 1-7 don’t be shy to request it <3

[dollwritesarchive]

one of my favorite headcanons for dio is that he doesn't allow his darling to wear panties. maybe even forbids it. he just loves easy access <3

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, dubcon, edging, fingering, little bit of degradation/humiliation because dio is and always will be a big meanie, almost blade play ( his sharp ass nails ), suggested past abuse / sexual conditioning ( from dio ), orgasm denial / control, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ it’s always a good day when i get to write filth for the man, the myth, the legend: dio brando. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

“Do you even have the faintest clue why panties are forbidden, pet?” Dio asks, without looking up from the book resting against his crossed knees. “Page.”

with your fingers trembling, you obediently flip the page he’s done reading, shaking your head with a muffled and shy, “Nn— Nn.” with the hemming of your skirt stuffed into your mouth, you’re forced to bite down on it and keep it in place, high and out of the way of your vampire lord’s malignant digits.

the room was icy cold, but you weren’t trembling because of that. your thighs were shaking and sticky from his constant, torturously slow stroking of your sex. the length of his finger slotting between your weeping folds to probe, and you clench around air with a timid whimper. then, his thick knuckle grazed in circles, until your back arched and you tried to ride it. he would, then satisfied with your desperation to be stretched open, drag the sharpest point of his dagger-like, abysmal nail to tease your tender clit, threaten to cut into you.

your body wants to jerk back, escape his cruel taunting, but you were trained much better than that. you stood as still as you could, with your knees bent inwards against each other so that they don’t buckle, and watch his hand disappear between your legs as he tenderizes your sex, and then reappear a few moments later, sticky with your essence.

“No?” he teases, quirking a brow, but his crimson eyes stay locked on the page he’s currently reading, “Of course not. Why should you? After all, does a lapdog understand why it is that her master smacks her muzzle for yapping too loudly? Or does she simply accept that to yowl incessantly will get her popped in her pretty, little face?” there were memories behind his metaphor— the scariest moments of your time with Dio, when you disobeyed or annoyed him. you, too, had found your cheek stinging from his massive palm making contact, and had been banished from his lap to sleep on the cold, hard stone floor for your insolence.

“Page.”

you turn to the next. and you nod to show that you understand: it didn’t matter if you knew why Dio put the rules in place that he did for you, all that mattered was that you obeyed them.

“But, I will tell you.” two fingers worm their way to spread your netherlips apart, and you mewl and grip bundles of chiffon with your teeth, saliva soaking through the fabric. “I will never allow you to wear panties because of this right here. How easy it is to edge your soft, warm cunt when she’s completely exposed. Vulnerable.” when you shudder at the sordid way each syllable rolls off his sinful tongue, you catch a peek at his impish grin, before he jabs his middle finger against your entrance, with just enough force to feel your canal try to welcome the digit in, but he doesn’t slip it inside.

“L—Lord D—Dio!” you cry, the need to feel him take you all but overwhelming and you careen against his hand, hoping to coerce his fingers inside, “P—pleeeethhh…” you mumble, slurred, through your makeshift gag.

“I will have your little cunt drooling and tender for me whenever I please. Like she is right now, so hungry for cock that you can hardly stay upright. Milking air, wishing, begging for me to fuck it. You want me right now, don’t you? You want nothing more than for me to hollow you out? Break your body and your mind with my cock?”

you nod fervently, eyelids heavy with lust from his words alone, and your hips twitch and wriggle, whining for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

his eyes turn up from the page, and stare at your visage, nearly convulsing on his palm, before his tongue scrapes over a pearly fang, one signature dimple visible in the candlelight as he croons. “How much longer can you take this teasing, I wonder? Minutes? Hours?” you were shaking your head, hot tears in the corners of your eyes, but he kept going, as if he enjoyed how nervous the idea of being edged for hours made you. how frightened it made you. “Or perhaps, I leave you soiled and needy now, and play with you every day following, you’ll wake up, tied to my bed, with me between your legs, sucking on your sugary cunt— bringing you right to the very cusp of orgasm and then snatching it away from you no matter how you beg and cry for a release, until you’re so sensitive that the very sound of my voice in the dark alone forces you to cum.” your eyes roll back, defeated and moaning pathetically as he pulls his hand back from between your hips. your jaw hangs slack; the skirt of your dress sagging back into a skewed version of its place, and Dio shoves his dripping fingers into your mouth instead, forcing you to taste just how badly you want him, pushing them deep until you gurgle and choke on them. “The possibilities to torment you are endless and exciting, my love, and that’s why you will never wear panties again. Turn the Page.”

[etherealzx]

Can I request jotaro with a s/o who wears revealing clothes

you got it anon ;)

Jotaro with an S/O that wears Revealing Clothing!

He's a little confused by his partner's choice of clothing tbh. The small garments aren't exactly practical, and they look incredibly uncomfortable to him

He'll chastise you about how you really need to wear a jacket because it's cold out.

If you ask him if he likes your outfit, he'll say some smart-ass shit like "Where's the rest of it?"

Secretly, he loves your outfits. He would never admit this to you though, which is why he pretends to not like it

You can always see his face turn pink when you wear a skintight mini-skirt or a really short pair of shorts. He tries to tilt his hat down to hide it but it doesn't work very well lol

You also catch him looking at your ass when he thinks you're not looking

He buys you things that he thinks you would like. Like if he sees a really cute mini skirt or crop top at the mall, he'll bring it home and leave it in your room for you. (He also picks out things that he wants to see you in.)

If anyone makes comments about your outfits or is checking you out, Jotaro scares them off pretty damn quick with that glare of his. The fact that he's 6'5 and super muscular also helps him to scare off anyone who looks at you the wrong way

[shyfairies]

sleepy nights with narancia♡

☆warnings: none!

the colorful hue coming from the sun as it set shone through the window, dusting your walls a faint pink with a hint of orange. the window was cracked open, letting a light breeze flow through the air and rest on your bare skin, tingling from the chilly sensation.

it was a cool summer's evening, and after a long day of doing basically nothing, being tangled up with your boyfriend in bed was all you needed. your legs were intertwined as well as your arms, foreheads pressed together as you felt his calm breath against your face. eyes closed peacefully and lips slightly parted, his sleepy features were enough to make your heart melt into a puddle.

as you watched him in his slumber, his eyes suddenly fluttered open, revealing the deep purple color that you adored so much. immediately upon seeing your face, a smile found itself on his.

"is it morning already?" a sleepy narancia asked, his hand that was originally around your waist now reaching to rub his eyes.

"not quite. it's around eight pm," you replied.

he responded with a simple hum before returning his hand to it's original spot. his eyes danced around the room, but eventually settled right on yours. once again he removed his hand, this time to brush your hair behind your ears so he can caress your cheek lovingly. the pad of his thumb was warm against your face, and you felt yourself shiver under his soothing touch.

"you're so beautiful," narancia cooed. you could see in his eyes how much he loved you, so deep and filled with passion, you got lost in them everytime.

the two of you lie there for a moment, enjoying the comfort of eachother, feeling the warmth and gentleness of eachother's touch. you could smell the air coming from outside, it was sweet, and you felt your eyes close as you breathed in the scent.

suddenly, narancia sat up, leaving you with just the trace of his hand against your cheek that you so desperately craved.

"are you getting up?" you asked.

"nah, i just need to stretch."

you see him raise his arms as high as he can above his head, letting out a quiet groan as he plops them back in his lap. he lets out a sigh before almost instantly falling back into bed, now facing the ceiling.

you take this as an opportunity to slither back into his strong, warm arms, your head nuzzled into his chest, and your arm draped across his waist. instinctually, his arms wrap around you, with one around your torso and the other resting on top of your head.

this was one of your favorite positions. the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his stomach slowly rising as he breathes, it almost lures you to sleep. you nuzzle a little deeper, just wanting to be as close to him as possible. he made you feel safe, protected, cared for—something you didn't feel very often with everything that goes on in your daily life.

"you know, my principessa," narancia whispered. "someday, i would love to marry you, and make you my wife."

with his sweet words, you felt him hold you closer as he caressed your hair.

"i want to spoil you, and be the best husband you could ever have. i want to give you everything, the world, even. you deserve it, amore mio."

slowly, you feel yourself starting to drift off to narancia's gentle voice, your body melting into him. hearts beating in sync with eachother, both filled with pure, gentle love.

"i will always protect you, y/n," he whispered into your ear. narancia slowly and softly placed a kiss on your forehead, very careful not to wake you, before nearly falling asleep himself.

"i love you."

p.s. credits to the creator of the dividers♡

[robinofinashiro]

prompt: “you want me to show them who you belong to, don't you? put you in your place?"

characters/fandom: johnny joestar x reader

request status/note: sorry im having a SUPER hyperfixation over my cowboy husband

pronouns used: she/her and afab!

you were standing by your horse, ready to come out with your horse to the music that was playing. you were sporting your most iconic outfit, one that many knew about.

you were a pretty well known jockey, especially around the Kentucky area. you had your start right alongside with Johnny Joestar. Kentucky's best jockey really up until his accident. you took a lot of your inspiration from the blond haired boy and although he never knew about it, it wasn't really a secret to those around you.

being a jockey, that also meant that you had to participate in showcases. those were generally saved for when a big race was coming up and the one on the table was the Kentucky Derby. the big one as everyone called it.

you were in the running to the winner for the women's race and you felt on top of the world as everyone chattering around you was just as excited as you were about it.

"from her home state of ( insert here)," you didn't wait for your name to be called as you instantly kicked your horse off and ran around the track, smiling to the crowd as you waved your baby blue hat to them.

with being a horse prodigy and a current jockey, you knew it wasn't very hard to be able to do tricks with your horse. making sure that you consulted all of your friends and trainers to make sure that the horse wasn't getting hurt in the process, you managed to slightly stand up on her, blowing kisses to the crowd again.

not too far away from where you standing now with your horse was Gyro and Johnny. Gyro couldn't help but chuckle at how confident you were with the crowd. he knew how you really were. you weren't as confident or outgoing in person as you were in front of the crowd.

you were a shy one. someone who tended to keep to herself unless your were spoken too. Gyro being a 3x time Kentucky Derby winner and in the jockey game a lot longer than you were, he heard the real whispers around your name. you were smitten with his best friend.

Johnny Joestar. the star of the Joestar family was itching to get back on the race track.

it didn't help that Johnny was also just as attracted to you but the two of you hardly ever chatted with each other. it was like a game of cat and mouse but neither of you wanted to take the bait.

as you put your horse back to her stable to eat and get well rested after the showcase, you went to the bathroom to reapply makeup and freshen up. you knew that as soon as you stepped back out, you'd have to do a plethora of interviews.

you fixed the baby blue next scarf and dusted off your newly put on skirt. you were also sporting a vest with nothing underneath it. you generally liked to keep your image clean for any younger fans but you figured with the world practically praising you, you could get away with a little bit of skimpiness.

as soon as you stepped out onto the scene, a few reporters went towards you asking for an interview. you agreed to a few, wanting to just get over with it and make your way to the saloon not too far from the race track.

every now and again you noticed Gyro staring at you. you wanted to know what he wanted but with Johnny standing right next to him, you felt a bit intimidated.

once you finished your interviews, you were grabbing your chapstick from the inside of your boot and applying it when Gyro walked over. you gave him a knowing look, wondering what bullshit he was about to tell you. that was the only perk of being friends with Gyro was that the two of you treated each other like siblings.

"yes, what do you need Zeppeli," you asked, standing against a wooden pole. he chuckled, "the baby blue and subtle stars on your boots? you're not fooling anyone darling. it has Johnny written all over it." you laughed, rolling your eyes, "I didn't know Johnny owned baby blue and stars."

Gyro shook his head in annoyance.

"its just funny that the two things that the Joestar boy is famous for is exactly what you're wearing," you wanted to fight back but you knew there was no chance when Gyro had caught you, "I just thought that the outfit was cute and my designer agreed."

Gyro agreed, "oh believe me, you are a cute little thing and if it wasn't for Johnny, I'd totally go after you but there's a reason why he's glaring down at me right now," you slightly turned yourself around to see Johnny tapping his crutches with annoyance.

the skirt that reached up to your mid thigh was blowing against the wind as you started to feel the chills that the Kentucky night was bringing.

"i'm going to be at Shooters tonight with the rest of these fuckers. you and Johnny should come along," you said as you walked off

Gyro hummed in amusement as he watched you kick the dirt and go towards the hundred year old saloon that became infamous for horse jockeys. he knew Johnny was going to be there regardless but maybe a little bit of alcohol would help the two of you loosen up.

as soon as they arrive, they spotted you with your close friends, sitting as a booth with mugs of beer. you were still wearing your outfit from earlier but now it looked like you rode up the skirt a bit more and opened a few buttons from your vest.

Johnny and Gyro stayed towards the bar, talking amongst the friends that they had there when they noticed you were already on the dance floor, dancing with a friend of yours.

"Johnny, look," he whispered as he gave his friend a nudge. Johnny looked up and as soon as his eyes landed on yours. you were using your hat as a fan as you tried to make yourself look as sober as possible.

the three of you were now several mugs of beer into the night and you were more open to talking to whoever was around you. Gyro made his way to a girl that was dancing with you as he flashed her his grills and grabbed her hand. she instantly acknowledged what he was insinuating and started dancing against him.

you were moving to the music, minding your own, when you felt someone behind you. not giving a care in the world, you started dancing against them, smiling to the music.

Gyro shot Johnny a look of acknowledgement as he knew that if neither of you were sober, this would not be the situation that would be playing out.

as you turned around to drink some more of your beer, you noticed those bright eyes that belonged to none other than Johnny himself. your eyes widened as you instantly tried to remember when he appeared behind you but you had been dancing long enough that you just figured you were dancing with different people.

just as the song changed, the small bit of confidence you had left, you managed to sit Johnny down on a chair and started dancing on top of him. your closest friend, Abby, and Gyro, stared at each other as they realized what was going on.

Johnny was lax against the chair, sipping on his beer as your legs were wrapped around his waist lazily, "don't think you'll mind if i steal this from you?" you asked lazily as you grabbed his beanie from his head, tossing your own hat in the sea of people. he chuckled as he watched you fix his hat on your head.

"not at all," he chuckled against your neck, "it's like you want me to show them who you belong to, don't you? put you in your place?" Johnny hadn't had this kind of confidence in what felt like years. before his accident, during his days as that cocky jockey from the famous Joestar family, he would've said it like it was nothing but now? it was even surprising to him.

"maybe I do. maybe that's the whole reason why I'm here dressed in a very Johnny Joestar outfit," you murmured back, your lips now against his, "ever think that's why I showed up like this today?" Johnny's hands found your thighs as he rubbed them slowly.

"maybe I'll give everyone a show, just to showcase that you really are mine," he replied as stood up and balanced himself against his crutches and pointing out that now very large hickey on your neck. you rolled your eyes as you realized that the hickey he left you was nothing compared to how you left his lips. battered and bruised for the lack of a better word.

"i think you're on the right track, ( your name ), i think it's time we do show everyone that you were always mine."

and that Johnny did. the following morning, you had woken up to being tangled in Johnny's arms as Gyro and Abby were sending you the newlines that you were "befriending" Johnny Joestar at the famous jockey salooon.

you knew that befriending was far from the truth as the marks on both of your bodies told a completely different story and it didn't take an idiot to see that as the next race you were competing in, you were wearing Johnny's most famous beanie and the lipstick he always adorned.

[lemmetreatya]

head builder!polnareff whos serious about his job and makes sure his men’s work ethic is top-par. head builder!polnareff who treats all his clients with utmost respect unless it’s you. head builder!polnareff who wolf-whistles at you once you pass by underneath the scaffolding of the new build. head builder!polnareff who yelps and hollers for you to “give him some eye candy” despite him knowing you’re the site manager. head builder!polnareff who confuses the other builders about why usually stoic and serious you is so lenient with the man.

head builder!polnareff who you light heartedly flip off from below because he’s normally a crass man — which you know — he’s been one of your most stable and reliable construction contractor for years. but one day you buy head builder!polnareff up on that offer as he pops his into your portable onsite office to piss you off.

“merde!…”

head builder!polnareff would be a spluttering mess as you kneel onto your office floor behind your desk and slowly run your mouth up and down the shaft of his cock. head builder!polnareff would have one hand cupping your cheek whilst his other arm lays over his eyes.

just as head builder!polnareff is about to cum, one of his men walk in to ask where you are, something about clearing off time. head builder!polnareff; with his face beet red and clearly dishevelled tries his best to act natural — despite unnaturally sitting in your office chair and looking like he was about to explode. but as you continue to suck at his cock whilst also massaging at his balls, head builder!polnareff is unable to contain his orgasm from pushing over him.

“t-t-t-t-they said they’ll— fuck!”

head builder!polnareff thrashes himself face forwards onto your desk as he cums down the canals of your throat, a suppressed groan leaving his mouth as tries his best to shoo off the builder who’s highly concerned for his sudden reaction.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

The Devil's Star - Kujo Jotaro Love Story (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 3: Stardust Crusaders) ~ On Going

Summary:

There is no force that can keep away a worried sister from her endangered younger brother, they say - Or, perhaps, that is simply the premise over which a lone woman has been agonizing herself, searching tirelessly after her sibling seemingly disappeared while on a family trip. Love. That is what Kisara's only fuel was, keeping her fighting through any hardship and obstacle coming straight at her. She was going to make the skies mingle with the earth, and take even God's place in Heaven, or Satan's throne in Hell, all for a single purpose - Rescuing Kakyoin Noriaki.

Chapter 1 - The Devil, Upright Chapter 2 - The Devil, In Reverse Chapter 3 - Red Dead Redemption Chapter 4 - Comfort Me Chapter 5 - Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken Chapter 6 -The Story Of Our Life Chapter 7 - My Foolish Heart Chapter 8 - Desert Rose

[moonbeamwritings]

a night-in with jotaro

pairing: jotaro kujo x gn!reader

wc: 824

warnings: none

next date →

“What’re we thinkin’, handsome? Moisturizing? Vitalizing? Maybe a little pore action?” You shuffle through your collection of sheet masks, eyeing the taglines of each one. “Ooo, I also have this one that looks like a cat?”

Jotaro looks between you and the stack, hesitant. “Definitely not the cat one.”

You roll your eyes, but move the cat mask and its other animal companions off to one side. He’s no fun.

After a busy few weeks, you and Jotaro had decided to spend the evening in for Valentine’s Day, and now, with your bellies full of take-out from the place you had your first date and a movie queued up in the living room, it’s sheet mask time. Jotaro had let it slip that he’d never tried one before, and like any good significant other would, you made it your mission to introduce him.

Running a thumb over his cheek, you pout. “You already have such nice skin. It’s not fair.” For good measure, you pinch the chub of it, what little there is, and smooch his forehead. “My pretty little valentine.” Despite his little scowl, you feel the heat of his skin against your fingertips. “How about a vitalizing one? This one’s got roses on it. Very on theme.”

You hold the package out to him and he inspects it, flipping it over to read both sides. “That’s fine.”

“Want me to put it on for you?”

“Mmm, sure.”

Pushing him to sit on the closed toilet lid, you reach around to pull a little pink hair clip from the bathroom drawer. Jotaro’s pretty blue eyes slip closed as you brush stray waves from his forehead and pin them back with the clip.

“Ready?”

He hums, muttering, “As I’ll ever be.”

You tear open the mask, and spread it across his face, making sure the holes for his eyes and mouth are where they should be. “How’s that?”

“It feels like seaweed.”

Rolling your eyes, you smooth out the last wrinkle in the sheet. Deeming it perfect, you squeeze his shoulders. “Alright, handsome. Let your first face mask experience begin. And before you take it off,” you warn, poking a finger into his chest, “don’t forget to rub the leftover serum into your skin. It’s a very important step.”

He nods before fixing his gaze on the stack on the counter. “Which one are you gonna do?”

“Hmm,” you drag your fingers over the pile and a mask in a green package catches your eye. It’s a hydrating tea tree mask boasting the perfect serum for sensitive skin. Just what you need. “I think this one.”

He plucks it from between your fingers, and switches places with you before you can even blink, lowering you to sit on the toilet lid just as he had. “Lemme do it.”

Jotaro mimics your movements exactly, carefully moving the stray hair from your face before spreading the mask across your skin. He even goes the extra step to stretch the mouth hole just slightly so you have a little more room to move it. He gently smooths his thumb down the bridge of your nose, an affectionate smile tugging at his mouth. “Done.”

Twenty minutes later, and with the rom-com still playing in the living room, you and Jotaro venture back into the bathroom, ready to slide the face masks off and continue with your night.

You watch as Jotaro carefully peels the mask from his skin, discarding it before standing next to you in the mirror to work the rest of the serum into his skin, just as you’d told him to do. He finishes before you, much less meticulous than you are about it, and when he’s done, he just... stares. And it would be nerve-wracking if it was anyone else, those piercing blue eyes boring into your features, but it’s Jotaro. Jotaro whose face softens as he watches you move, whose love, though quiet, is ever-present.

“What?” You giggle, eyeing him through the mirror. “Something on my face?”

A shake of his head, a shrug of his shoulders. “You look pretty, ‘s all.”

Your cheeks heat up as you turn around to take his face into your palm. And maybe it defeats the whole purpose, doting on him and touching his face so shortly after using face masks, but you can’t help it. He softens even further, sinking into your hand with ease.

Jotaro’s hand comes up to close over your own, large fingers curling until their tips find a home against your palm. His thumb skirts over your pointer finger as he tells you, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“You sap,” you coo, lips curling affectionately as you watch his eyes roll at the comment. You press close to him to land a peck on the corner of his mouth. When he tilts his head closer, wordlessly asking for another kiss, you plant one right to the center of his lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome.”

[married-to-google-translater]

Narciso Anasui relationship headcanon

Anasui is almost a canon Yandere lol.

Let's just say that Anasui would be really devoted as your boyfriend.

Even if sometimes his means are a little "questionable".

It could be that you would run into problems and Anasui would be from a "coincidental" place and could help you.

But you have no proof…

He would also be really affectionate towards you.

You would be his whole world in a relationship.

Anasui would also like to show it.

He wouldn't be rich but he would try to buy you gifts.

Another way Anasui expresses love is through physical affection.

Public PDA would be almost a must.

He just wants to be with you without caring about others.

Anasui would also be a bit overprotective.

He wouldn't want anyone else around you

Anasui would definitely like to impress your parents.

He would always be polite around them...

Definitely wouldn't mention anything about prison

Anasui would also be planning a wedding...

But that would be a surprise for now.

[lanawrx]

Getting Caught in the Rain with Johnny Joestar

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Johnny Joestar had never been a man to believe in fate. But the moment he saw you back in San Diego, something in him stirred. It wasn’t just the way you walked through the bustling streets of the town, or how your eyes seemed to linger on things with a thoughtful kind of curiosity—it was something else, something unspoken. And Johnny couldn’t quite shake it, even now.

He was still a paraplegic at that point, still figuring out how to navigate the world from his horse, Slow Dancer. That was where he’d been when he caught sight of you, watching from a distance. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to talk to you, to be close enough to see those thoughtful eyes up close. But the Steel Ball Run wasn’t a place for lingering.

Now, miles from San Diego and separated from Gyro after an ambush, Johnny found himself lost in the rugged plains, dusk creeping over the horizon. Slow Dancer trotted slowly, the weight of exhaustion heavy on both of them. Then, through the trees, a flicker of light—someone had set up camp.

As he rode closer, he saw you. You were kneeling by a small fire, eyes soft with focus as you added a few more branches to the flames. Johnny’s heart quickened. Of all the places, of all the nights, it had to be you.

“Hey,” Johnny called softly, his Kentucky accent creeping in as it always did when he felt unsure of himself. “Mind if I… join you for a while?”

You looked up, your gaze settling on him. Recognition flickered in your eyes, followed by a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Joestar, right?” you asked, rising to your feet. “You can rest here. I’ve got enough room for one more.”

Johnny nodded gratefully, easing himself off Slow Dancer and settling on the ground with an ungraceful thud. He looked over at you to see if you noticed. Part of him expected a look of pity or an offer of help. You did neither, just spared him a quick glance and rose a brow, as if to ask if he's got it. He sent you a reassuring nod, grateful that you didn't think of him as helpless.

Another part of him was slightly disappointed you didn't get all worked up over making sure he was okay.

You offered him a spot closer to the fire, and he gladly took it, feeling the warmth seep into his weary bones. For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the crackle of the fire and the distant rustle of leaves filling the air. He glanced at you, noticing how the flames danced in your eyes, casting shadows that highlighted the soft curves of your face.

“You always camp alone?” Johnny asked, trying to keep his tone casual, though his voice held a gentle curiosity.

“Most of the time,” you replied, your voice steady and calm. “It’s quieter that way, and safer when you’re not looking after someone else.”

Johnny chuckled softly. “Guess you’re right. Ain’t many guys out here looking to make friends.”

A pause settled between you two, the kind of quiet that was comfortable, not forced. Johnny looked down at his hands, the roughness of his knuckles a stark contrast to the softness he imagined when he thought of you. He’d never been one to easily talk about his feelings, but there was something about this moment, about you, that made him feel a little braver.

“I saw you back in San Diego,” Johnny said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Didn’t get the chance to say hello then.”

You smiled, glancing over at him. “I remember seeing you too. You were with that other guy—Zeppeli, right?”

Johnny nodded. “Yeah, Gyro’s… well, he’s something. But I'm not used to being around guys like him. He’s loud, always tryin’ to prove something You’re different.”

Your brow lifted slightly, your curiosity piqued by his words. “Different how?”

Johnny hesitated, his fingers tracing the lines of his palm. “I don’t know, just… quieter, I guess. But not in a bad way. It’s like you’re thinking about things, not just actin’ all the time.”

The campfire crackled louder as the wind began to pick up, and suddenly, there was a soft patter in the distance. It took a moment, but the first drop hit Johnny’s shoulder, and before long, the sky opened up. Rain began to fall in a gentle, steady rhythm, tapping against the ground in harmony with the stillness of the moment.

"Ah, shit." You muttered, jumping to your feet and shuffling through your supplies.

You scrambled to pull a tarp over the fire, protecting it from the sudden downpour. Johnny, still sitting there, felt a strange kind of peace despite the rain. He watched as you worked, admiring the ease with which you moved, your every action graceful and purposeful.

Once the tarp was secure, you sat down beside him again, closer this time, the rain drumming lightly on the fabric overhead. Johnny could feel the warmth of your body next to his, could smell the faint scent of rain mixed with the earth. He glanced at you, your face so close, and his heart thudded louder than the rain.

“Guess we’re stuck here for a bit,” you said with a small laugh, your voice a little softer, the rain making everything feel more intimate.

Johnny’s mouth went dry as he swallowed hard. “Yeah, looks like it.”

The rain wasn’t stopping anytime soon, and Johnny wasn’t sure if it was the rain or his nerves, but he found himself leaning a little closer, just enough to brush his arm against yours. You didn’t pull away.

“Y’know,” Johnny began, his voice low, “I never thought I’d be the kind of guy to find someone like you out here. There aren't many things that surprise me anymore.”

You turned to him, your gaze meeting his. “What do you mean?”

He let out a breath, the words hanging heavy on his tongue. “I mean, I’ve seen a lot of things in my life. Lost a lot too. But there’s something about you. Ever since I saw you, I ain’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.”

Your eyes softened, and Johnny felt a surge of vulnerability. He wasn’t the smoothest talker, but he knew this feeling wasn’t something he could just ignore.

“Johnny…” you began, your voice carrying a note of tenderness.

Before you could say more, the rain began to fall harder, drowning out the world around you. But there, under the tarp, with the rain all around, Johnny felt like he’d finally found something worth holding onto.

Before Johnny could muster a reply, his attention was yanked away by the sound of a familiar voice echoing through the rain.

"JOHNNY!" Gyro's voice cut through the pattering downpour, a mix of urgency and frustration. "Where the hell are you, Johnny?!"

Johnny sighed, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer before he turned toward the sound of Gyro’s call. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand across his face. Of course Gyro would show up now, just when things were starting to get… well, something.

You smiled softly, sensing his frustration but not taking it personally. “Looks like your friend’s found you,” you said, your voice light despite the interruption. There was a tenderness in your tone that Johnny picked up on, something that made his heart squeeze just a bit tighter in his chest.

Johnny sighed again, this time with a half-hearted smile as he looked over at you. “Yeah. He’s got a knack for showin’ up at the wrong time.”

“Johnny!” Gyro’s voice called again, closer this time, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. In seconds, the flamboyant Italian came into view, his clothes soaked from the rain. He stopped short when he saw the two of you sitting together under the tarp. A knowing grin spread across his face despite the situation.

“Nyohoho~! There you are!” Gyro exclaimed, hands on his hips as he took in the sight of Johnny and you huddled close under the small shelter. “You gettin' cozy without me?”

Johnny shot him a deadpan look. “Don’t start, Gyro.”

But Gyro was already enjoying himself too much. He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “So this is what happens when I leave you alone for five minutes, huh? Find yourself a nice companion while I’m out searching for you in the rain?”

You chuckled, the sound light and amused, though Johnny could feel the heat creeping up his neck. “It’s not what you think,” Johnny muttered, trying to shake off the embarrassment.

“Oh, sure,” Gyro teased, winking at you. “Don’t mind him—he gets all shy when he likes someone.”

Johnny shot Gyro a glare, though the Kentucky drawl in his voice softened as he mumbled, “You’re gonna make me regret tellin’ you anything.”

You laughed again, this time more openly, and Johnny found himself relaxing a bit despite Gyro’s relentless teasing. The rain continued to fall in steady sheets, drumming against the tarp above you. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the three of you under the flimsy shelter.

“You should sit,” you said, motioning for Gyro to join the small camp. “No sense in standing out there gettin’ drenched.”

Gyro’s grin softened as he wiped the rain from his brow and plopped down beside you. “Well, I won’t say no to that.” He settled in, glancing between you and Johnny with a knowing look. “So… did I interrupt somethin’ important?”

Johnny glanced at you, his heart pounding a little harder than he’d like to admit. “Maybe.”

You smiled softly, meeting his gaze. “Maybe,” you echoed, your voice gentle, leaving a quiet promise hanging in the air.

For the first time in a long while, Johnny felt something other than the ache of what he’d lost. There, under the rain, with you beside him and Gyro grinning like a fool, Johnny felt the tiniest spark of hope flicker to life.

And maybe that was enough for now.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡ Thanks for Reading! ˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader ( service top ), power bottom!dio, pegging, restraints, degradation, masturbation ( him ), all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day eighteen [ dio brando + pegging ]

you could beg him all you wished.

you could scream and cry your please, masters until your throat was raw, and you choked on the dryness of your own mouth, but he still wouldn’t give you any pleasure. he was determined to make you suffer, and suffer you were doing, exactly.

Dio elicits a soft, throaty chuckle at your pitiful whimper, and he tilts his head to one side, peering down at you. “My, my, is my little possession feeling entitled, today?”

the visage of him hunkered down over you, knees spread wide and balancing on the balls of his feet, was driving you insane. your blurry eyeline trails along the slick, rubber cock that disappears as he descends upon it with a symphony of breathy grunting accompanying the action, and you’re so envious. he takes the fake phallus akin to the way that you usually take his cock, and even from your position, flat on the bed with your arms bound to together at the wrists above your head, you could see the way the pinkish ring clenched around the toy as he fucked it.

“I love that look on your face.” Dio swoons, wrapping one mighty fist around his cock and pumping in merciless, rapid-fire strokes, while his other palm rests on one knee, and he bounces up and down on the toy strapped to your groin. “That envious look. You hate to watch me have all the fun, don’t you?” your master muses, a devious grin etching his lips over sharp, pearly fangs. “What’s the matter? Do you hate me for not letting you feel good, too? Do you want to curse your master for it?”

“N-no, master…” you whine, laying your head to the side, watching him use you, before you added in a soft, pathetic tone, “I just… am begging for you to touch me, too. Or, a-at the very least, let me touch y-you—“ your eyes glue themselves to the way he jerked himself off; you could offer a much softer, warmer grasp. hell, you would even let him spit on your hands until they were dripping, that way your grasp felt more like your drooling cunt.

Dio’s brows screwed into a distasteful scowl as he huffs, and reaches out to plant his free hand on your chest, instead. the power and weight behind the movement is enough to knock the breath from your lungs, and you croak in response, eyelids fluttering. “Do you think me so weak, little fuck slave, that you could bat your eyelashes and pout, and I would give you exactly what you wanted?” he didn’t wait for an answer, sneering, he leans closer, his hips rocking back and forth as he takes to toy to its hilt, and moans in satisfaction. “You want so badly to feel pleasure, too, but your master has no use for your sloppy hole today. I want to get fucked,” his harsh words and the disregard he holds for your own ecstasy adds fuel to the wicked eroticism of this moment— of your master using you for his own gratification. “And, if I have to tie you to the bed and strap a fake cock on you in order to get what I want, I will do so. And you will thank me, once again, for the opportunity to please me; it is a privilege not many are gifted.” his abysmal, razor like fingernails scrape at your chest, dragging along one, hardened nipple, threatening to break your skin, and you shudder. “Because you, my little piece of meat, are little more than furniture to me.”

your eyes roll back at that.

why did your pussy clench when he compared you to furniture?

had Dio Brando truly broken you to the point of getting off for him, even as he demeaned you, and reduced you to nothing of worth?

you gargle a moan, your back arching as if in hopes to drive the dildo deeper into him, but his weight crashes down on you, pinning you in place. “Master!” you cry out, tears in your eyes, as your core weeps for his attention. a flick of his finger, at the very least, underneath the leather harness. “Please! I am going mad!”

“Fuckable furniture.” the rough pad of his thumb scrapes against the slit on his broad, pink tip, before he thrusts himself into his hand, gripping and moaning, swirling his hips to feel every inch of the cock jammed inside of him. Dio throws his head back with a happy grunt. “And furniture doesn’t fucking move. Furniture doesn’t beg for attention when it is owed none. Furniture is silent and subservient, dearest fucktoy.”

[strawmariee]

Era mais uma manhã da Steel Ball Run, e Diego e você haviam acabado de acordar de mais uma noite de descanso depois de tantas horas cavalgando e correndo para garantir o primeiro e segundo lugar de vocês.

Um suspiro escapou de seus lábios enquanto você organiza com cuidado suas coisas dentro da sua mochila e, quando você menos espera, sente um peso em seu ombro esquerdo que faz você dar um pequeno saltinho.

— Jesus! Diego, que susto!— você diz com um pequeno beicinho em seus lábios antes de retornar sua atenção para seus pertences, no entanto, ao sentir certos braços abraçando sua cintura você logo para novamente.

Aquilo era tão raro quando ao alinhamento de todas as estrelas das diversas conjugações, e logo você coloca uma das mãos na nuca de Diego e, em resposta, ele solta um grunido que parecia ser um ronronar dos dinossauros? Bem, você acabou deduzindo isso de qualquer maneira.

Então você tem mais um desafio a superar: Arrumar sua mochila com um certo homem-dinossauro atracado em vocé como um carrapato.

— O que foi que deu em você hoje, hein Dio?— Você foi capaz de sentir o aperto ficar maior assim que você o chamou pelo apelido dele, e isso fez você rir baixinho.— Goste que eu te chame de Dio? Hein Dio? Você fica muito fofinho quando está carente, Dio!

— Para com isso, idiota.

Ele diz, levantando levemente o rosto para você e te deixando capaz de ver suas bochechas levemente rosadas enquanto o aperto dele só fez aumentar conforme as vezes que você repetiu o apelido dele.

— Aw, paro não Dino boy.

Em seguida você deu um beijinho na ponta de seu nariz, o que fez com que o loiro estremecesse um pouco antes de esconder o rosto novamente em seu ombro.

— Entendi, você deve estar naqueles dias... Mas temos que ir, senão podemos ter desvantagem na corrida—!

Assim que você tentou se levantar, você foi bruscamente puxada de volta para i saco de dormir que ainda estava quente e sentiu outra coisa rodear seu corpo, você logo soltou uma risada nasal quando reconheceu as escrituras de "Dio" naquele rabo de dinossauro.

— Estamos muito mais à frente do que todos aqueles idiotas.

Você se surpreendeu com aquilo, já que independente da posição deles, sua ambição só o fazia querer ficar no topo e não dar chances a ninguém roubar o que ele já considerava dele.

E isso até mesmo incluía você, mesmo que ele nunca confessasse isso.

Você logo então suspirou em desistência e, resolvendo aproveitar aquele momento raro de carência de Diego, voltou a acariciar sua nuca e sendo recompensada com aqueles ronronados/grunidos dele.

Não faz mau tirar só mais alguns minutinhos de descanso, não é mesmo?

[dollwritesarchive]

𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 — 𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐞

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), this is a dark fic, yandere!rohan, improper use of heaven’s door, toxic relationship, forced consent, creampie mention, suggested mindbreak, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

“That’s perfect,” Rohan crooned, the only sound audible over the scribbling of his rapid sketching. his emerald eyes coruscate as he admires the vulgar visage you had no choice but to display for him. “Keep that pitiful expression.”

your face was flushed, cheeks hot and eyes glassy. there was a minuscule puddle of drool on the floor underneath your jaw. your eyebrows are cinched together, teeth sank into your lower lip as you muffle the pathetic whines that can’t seem to end. you’re panting, and so is he, because he’d practically ripped himself off of you and stumbled over to his desk to grab his supplies. the muscles in your toes were cramped up where they’d been curled so tightly, your thighs trembling, but you keep them spread wide as your knees ache, planted firmly on the hard floor. “Roh—“

Rohan cut you a warning glare, pursing his lips, “Shh, sh sh, shh,” the tip of the pen screams as it shoots across the sketch pad, “keep your mouth slack, just like before. Talking will only soil the realism. If I don’t capture this look on your face right now, I might simply go insane.” you could tell by the twinkle of obsession in his eyes, that he wasn’t exaggerating.

but still, you longed to move. to stretch your cramping muscles, to pick your sore cheek off the side of the hard floor. you could still feel Rohan’s foot planting it there, smearing his sole over your face and applying enough pressure on your head to make you dizzy. “W—when can I get up?”

“Spread your ass cheeks.” he barked, ignoring you, brows furrowed in concentration. “Show me the damage I’ve done already.”

eliciting a pathetic and hardly audible whine of subservience, your hands move before your brain can catch up with the demand, prying your globes apart and, thus, allowing a gush of cocktailed release — both Rohan’s and yours — from your cunt. it was spasming, milking nothing, and each time you clenched, you snagged your lip with your teeth. it’s not like you wanted to enjoy how roughly Rohan fucked you, or how sloppy he wanted his muse to be. you didn’t want to cum when he hurt you, but you didn’t have a choice. you couldn’t fight what had been etched into your psyche, literally.

Heaven’s Door. that’s what he’d called it when he explained it to you; an ability that only he possessed. you couldn’t see these powers, but somehow, you knew he wasn’t lying to you.

and you’d seen him use it before — bizarrely enough, though, trying to recall those moments were impossible.

Rohan promised never to use Heaven’s Door on you, but that was before you tried to leave him.

now, you didn’t have to ask him how he could make you do things even though you didn’t want to do them, or why you had blank patches in your memory all the time. even if you wanted to, you couldn’t fix your mouth to form the questions. he had, somehow, used his ability on you, and was keeping you muzzled and obedient now. with no freedom in sight.

Rohan moans out loud, clenching the pen in his hand when he sees the delicious destruction, “That’s it!” he cries, and you could see his cock, still hard and throbbing, beading with more spunk. he wants to grab himself and milk the rest of it out of him, you can tell, but to let go of his pen would mean he would lose the momentum at which he was creating a mirror of your position. “That’s exactly what I want to see, your body fucked out and shaking, your mind slipping, little by little. I’m going to fuck you stupid before long, and I’ll be able to immortalize that, too— once I’ve turned you into my brainless, little fuck doll. Look at how pretty you look.”

Rohan leans forward, flipping the pad around to show you, and you want to be humiliated. no, more than that, you want to cry. reduced to little more than his pathetic possession, you stare at the equally helpless girl in black and white on the paper. she looks less alive than you thought you did, less herself— or, yourself. were you becoming that? were you losing… you?

“I don’t…” your mouth fights each syllable, trying to keep you from speaking. “I don’t like…. This….”

for a moment, Rohan’s brow arches, and he tears the portrait from the pad, tossing it into a stack of at least a hundred more that were similar. all of you. fucked. ruined. “Oh?” he inquires, half taunting, “you’re unhappy?”

yes. god, yes. please, let your lips work with you. “Y—yes…” you wished you could use your hands to push up off the floor, but they don’t want to obey as easily as your mouth, one slipping forward to plug your desperate opening with two fingers, and you whimper. “I want…” to go home! for you to let me go! help! all of these were options that you tried to force to the edge of your tiers, but none found themselves upon them, and instead, your fingers pumped into you, curling at the knuckle, and your mouth betrayed your mind, “I want you to fuck me, Rohan. Again, and again, and again. I want to lose my mind on your cock…”

no! no, no, no!

at the very least, please let me keep my mind!

“Take everything from me. I want to belong completely… to you.”