#I know I don’t give you the same attention I do pesci and I’m so sorry

[tenthgrove]

Can I request a yandere poly! La Squadra with a darling that gains a dangerous stand? Maybe they felt they were in danger enough that it just suddenly manifests?

Panic Response

La Squadra (Poly) x Reader (GN), Yandere, SFW

Risotto doesn't like sitting out, but he knows it's probably the best thing he can do in this situation. He can't see you right now, crowded out of view by the four men desperately vying for your attention, as well as trying to get rid of each other.

He cannot make out a word that Illuso, Melone, Sorbet or Gelato are saying, though they all seem to be doing their best to comfort you so he won't intervene. Slightly clearer is Prosciutto behind them, chastising each of the men for their tactless manner in consoling you. Behind him, is Formaggio clearly contemplating whether to join in, Ghiaccio staring on in utter bewilderment and Pesci crying almost as loud as you are.

Risotto does feel bad. Seeing you so distraught really does wound his soul, but he knew days like this would be inevitable if he were ever to obtain you for him and his team. You will calm down eventually, and then they can start to explain their real intentions to you.

Perhaps it would be best to make them leave you alone for a minute.

"Hush sweetheart, don't cry. You'll feel better with some water," Gelato coos. Sorbet reaches out to pet you, but you bat him away.

"Don't be foolish. They aren't going to take water from us. You saw how they reacted last time we tried to get them to drink something we poured out for them," Melone reminds him. Gelato tuts angrily.

"Let me be alone with them for a minute, I'll calm them down!" Illuso suggests, like anyone's actually going to let that happen. "You never let me be alone with them, so you don't know until you try!"

"We are not doing that!" Prosciutto interjects.

"Illuso does have a point though," Risotto says, stepping forward. He locks with one of your eyes through a gap in the crowd, red and tear-stained. "Not about him specifically, but this may be easier if it's just one or two of us alone with them. I think someone ought to take them into a different room."

Everyone turns to you.

"What do you think sweetheart? Do you want to come up with us, or is there someone else you'd prefer?" Gelato offers. You shake your head.

"Wanna stay here," you sob weakly.

"How about we go to my room for a bit?" Prosciutto offers, stepping forward. "You liked it before, didn't you?"

"No! Leave me alone!" you whine more loudly. This isn't good. Risotto needs to put a stop to this before you lash out.

"Hey," he addresses you. Your eyes snap up in fear. "Don't be afraid. I'm going to take you into my office and then the others won't disturb you. I'll carry you, okay?"

"N-no," you protest, trying to back up further against the end of the corridor. "Don't!"

"Shh," Risotto hushes you. He reaches for your sides to lift you.

"I SAID GO AWAY!"

There's a jet of light, and the next thing Risotto knows he's being thrown back by the most brilliant stand he's ever seen.

____________

Formaggio- You have to hand it to him, he might not be known as the smartest guy in the squad but he does know how to react quickly. He jets forward to pull Risotto from the stand's grip, rapidly shrinking himself with Little Feet to slip back past the stand and towards you. He knows this stand probably isn't under your control yet so you could be in danger as well. Priority 1 is defending you.

Illuso- Not to be outdone by Formaggio's heroism, Illuso charges at your stand with Man in the Mirror and casts it into the mirror world (lucky Sorbet did get you that glass of water, otherwise he wouldn't have had a point of entry). It can't hurt anyone there, and will eventually demanifest once you calm down. The initial emergency is over, and La Squadra can focus on what to do next.

Prosciutto- Everyone agrees pretty quickly that they need to get you somewhere quiet to calm down, and after how you reacted to Risotto, it's probably best someone else does it. When Prosciutto gently leads you away to his bedroom, you're too tired to protest but still terrified. He assures you they aren't angry with you and can explain what happened once your ready. He lets you sleep alone in his bed.

Pesci- Fra said not to bother you while you sleep, but nobody is letting Pesci get a word in as they discuss down in the meeting room what to do about your stand, so he doesn't know what else he can do. Hearing his voice outside the bedroom door, you are relieved. Pesci is quite possibly the only one you completely trust not to hurt you. You let him in, and he reiterates Prosciutto's earlier promise. You ask him what the others have decided yet. He says they still don't know.

Melone- By the next morning, La Squadra still isn't sure how they're going to manage an unwilling lover with a dangerous stand, but they have agreed it's only right for you to receive an explanation for what you saw and for that they send Melone. Melone gives you a crash course on the nature of stands, why yours probably emerged and the fact each of them have their own. He assures you they don't view you having a stand as a bad thing, but it does create problems. He advises you not to attempt to bring it out again as it (truthfully) could hurt you. He hopes that will be enough to keep you secure for now.

Ghiaccio- He doesn't share it with the others, but this whole mess takes him back. He recalls how unfamiliar with stands he was when he joined the team, practically a child, and how White Album's great power caused a similar chaos for the team. Sure, your situation is different because you're here against your will, but quite frankly Ghiaccio agrees with Pesci that the others aren't respecting your boundaries enough. Maybe if they showed you the same understanding they showed him, you might come around. He'll bring it up with Risotto.

Risotto- It's rare, but Risotto doesn't know what to think. Of course he still loves you and of course there's no way he's abandoning the team's pursuit of you as a lover, but this development could cause some serious problems for the team, and you. Worst comes to the worst, they may even have to restrain you in the basement until your fight wears down enough to stop being a danger to them. Risotto would hate to do that to you. Pesci and Ghiaccio think they should try and make a deal with you. Maybe that's not the worst idea.

Sorbet and Gelato- It's them Risotto sends. They've always taken good care of you, and he rightly trusts them for this important task. Sorbet and Gelato begin by telling you how awesome it is that you have a stand; generally trying to get you excited by the possibility of learning to use it. They then move on to what happened, how scared you must have felt to react like that and how sorry all of them, including Risotto, are. Then they tell you Risotto is willing for you to go on as before. No extra security, no new restrictions on your freedom, and definitely no punishments. The squad has come to the realisation that if you're going to trust them, they have to trust you back, and therefore, they want to offer you this chance. If your stand comes out accidentally they won't be angry as long as you tell them, and if not, you'll get to learn to use it soon enough. Perhaps this is the first step towards peace between you.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #formaggio #formaggio x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #melone #melone x reader #ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader #yandere cw

[abbabycchio]

Flowers based on how they feel about you/ think of you. P2

This time with La Squadra! Thank you for the attention I got on the Bucci gang! I love being able to talk about flowers and my favorite characters💕💕 sorry for the long wait!

Risotto Nero: Since you met him he’d fallen in love with you, you were amazing and perfect, and in his most vulnerable moments he’d tell you. Unfortunately being the Capo and the strongest of the traitorous team La Squadra ment it was too high a risk to pursue a relationship with you. So for your safety he had to reject you. 

Magenta Zinnia: Lasting Affection

Striped Carnation: No, Refusal, Sorry I Can't Be With You, Wish I Could Be With You

He’ll send you these flowers along with a note apologizing for any pain it brings you. He sees it as his final interaction with you, but still lets you know how much you mean to him. 

My carissimo. I couldn’t stop the tears that fell onto my legs as I sat and rekindled my feelings for you. The comfort of your voice, you telling me “you’re gonna be alright” always mends my broken heart. There’s something about your voice that gives me the comfort I need. I’ve learned so many things from you. I’ve never been with someone who makes me laugh as much as you. You taught me what a real relationship was by having pillow talks with me before we went to bed. I wish life had a more simpler game plan. I love you so much. Til the day I die I’ll remember you forever.

-Risotto Nero. 

Prosciutto: He sees you as so much more than you could ever see yourself as. That being said he knows how cruel the world can be and makes it his mission in life to protect and love you for the rest of his life. He’s also the only one in the group that goes all out when it comes to buying gifts. 

Red Amaryllis: find incredibly beautiful, value beyond their beauty

Yellow Snapdragon: Gracious. Fascinating. Protection from evil

Dahlia: the lasting bond and commitment between two people

Very silently shoves these flowers towards you and walks away. It’s only until you gain control over your beating heart that you notice an elegant ribbon wrapped around the bouquet with a note attached.

The time is now to believe my promises and trust me to shelter you from the storms that will come in this life. I am truly the knight in shining armor your heart longs for and I am the one who has already given his life for you. I know your hidden fears, but you must learn to look to me when life is hard. I am the rock on which you can stand when all around you seems to be sinking. So stand on my word and hide it in your heart and you will never sink in hopelessness again.

-Prosciutto.

Pesci: he’s like a big puppy, he easily fell in love with you and in the most innocent way. Just seeing you smile brightens up his day and makes him excited to spend any days to come with you. 

Yellow Tulip: cheerfulness and sunshine

Coral Honeysuckle: I love you 

He replaces these flowers anytime he sees that the ones he already gave you are dying so the bright colors are always illuminating your days. 

I’m writing this to tell you that I love you. You’re my first thought when I wake up, and my last when I got to sleep. I need your love more and more each day, like an addiction of some sort.

-Pesci.

Ghiaccio: He sees you as the calm to his storm, he is so thankful for you, and although he doesn’t say it much you know that. Everyday he does his best to learn more about you and create a bond deeper than flesh. 

Purple hydrangeas: EMOTION, UNDERSTANDING, a desire to deeply understand someone

Black Bryony: Be my support

He doesn’t actually give these to you an a bouquet, he likes to place them in your hair, of behind your ears. Sometimes he even makes little flower crowns with the Black Bryony vines and places the Hydrangea flowers around it.

My love, just a moment ago I thought about you and my heart was filled with gratitude. So before another moment goes by I want to say thank you. Thank you for the late night laughs and the early morning kisses. Thank you for holding my hand throughout this life. Thank you for your love and friendship, and most of all thank you for the pleasure of calling you mine.

-Ghiaccio.

Melone: He thirsts for you so hard! After he met you everyone else was nothing compared to your beauty. He physically can't keep his hands off you. After he saw you he immediately pined for your affection.

Black Orchid: ADMIRATION, INNOCENCE, strength, virility, sexual desires, and success

Lavender Rose: enchantment and love at first sight, blossoming romance.

He sends a very professionally designed bouquet of these flowers, bringing more than one bundle a day to the point where you don’t know what to do with all those flowers.

I want you more and more. I often have erotic memories of you and I hurry to get home. I love to feel myself inside you; I love to feel my virile member slashing your skin, like burning iron teasing your desire. I have visions of you on top of me, riding my hips, making me moan with pleasure with your vigorous and precise movements. I love to feel the dense and warm liquid of your pleasure run down my body. I love to feel that you are mine. vigorous but at the same time, defenseless, relying on my arms and the warmth of my body. I love when you fall asleep in my arms, resting your head on my shoulder for countless minutes, after I irrigated your flesh with my abundant semen. I like the taste of your saliva when you kiss my mouth and I like the warmth of your heat when I kiss you between your thighs... I love your kisses more and more, your cuddles and your strength. And I’m writing to you to tell you I miss you too much.

-Melone.

Formaggio: He is smitten with you. Probably the most obviously loyal out of all of the boys, not that all of them aren’t, but you are 100% sure that you are his entire world. In your relationship he tries his best to be as romantic as possible any time that he can. 

Pink Peony: ROMANCE, PROSPERITY, love at first sight

Lemon Blossom: I promise to be true, Fidelity in love

He’s the kind to see these flowers in shop or on a bush, and just takes it and gives it to you. 

To my forever, I think we make the perfect couple. We understand each other so well. We listen to each other. I cannot wait to spend eternity with you, because there’s no place I’d rather be than with you. You’re stuck with me cara, You better remember that! I love us! 

-Formaggio. 

Illusio: Although he is usually a little raunchy by nature, but he loves you delicately. Which surprised the entire gang. His personality switch between seeing you and working is drastic. It’s more of an innocent, refined love. Fancy dinners, passionate nights. He puts his entire ego into making the best dates for you two. 

Cornflower: Refinement, Delicacy

Daisy: innocence, loyal love, and purity.

You would be standing or sitting somewhere in base and suddenly a hand would come out of the mirror near you and drop a bouquet of flowers in your hand.

My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you. I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again, my Life seems to stop there. I see no further. You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving. I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you.

-Illuso.

Sorbet & Gelato: Sorbet and Gelato were so grateful when you came into their lives, they were already in love with each other but finding you made their already love filled lives more special. When you got the news from Risotto you were heart broken, one day you were happily in love with the two most special men in your life, and the next you were mourning the loss of both of them. 

FORGET-ME-NOT: True Love, Memories

Delphinium: a first love, strong bonds of love.

You had gotten a bundle of flowers at your door step with two notes attached, one was from Risotto telling you that Sorbet and Gelato had sent you a note, along with a few wishes in their Will. The other was the note Sorbet and Gelato had written, only to be read by you after their death.

This is not a goodbye my darling, this is a thank you. Thank you for coming into our lives and giving us joy, thank you for loving us and receiving our love in return. Thank you for the memories we made together. But most of all, thank you for showing us that there will come a time when we will be together again.

-Sorbet&Gelato.

#jojos bizarre adventure #jojo golden wind #jojo part 5 #vento aureo #send asks #jjba #jojo la squadra #la squadra #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #prosciutto x reader #jojo risotto nero #jjba risotto #jojo prosciutto #jjba prosciutto #pesci #pesci x reader #jjba pesci #ghiaccio x reader #jjba ghiaccio #melone x reader #jojo melone #jjba melone #formaggio x reader #jjba formaggio #illuso x reader #jojo illuso #sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader

[angry-geese]

The Devil Makes Three

Risotto x reader x Prosciutto

Warnings: nsfw. degradation/humiliation (sort of, its really just one sentence), oral (masc receiving), fingering, rough-ish sex, spit roasting, threesome. a little dubcon, the reader is eventually into it but I'm tagging it just in case. Fem!Reader

Notes: reader is responsible for a mission going wrong, hate sex ensues

The job was a bust.

You didn't listen when Prosciutto told you to wait just a few more seconds. There was an opening, so you took it. The two of you had been trailing that target all day. You were growing impatient, just wanting the job to be over. You didn't know when you'd get another one. You were just doing your job.

He didn't see it that way.

The two of you finished the job, but not without a civilian casualty. The hit was about as messy as it could get. Sometimes a few witnesses get killed—it happens—but Prosciutto always gets pissy when there's an extra target with no pay. To him, he's losing money. The extra bodies only serve to complicate things. Discretion is necessary at all costs in your line of work.

Prosciutto was silent on the drive home. You suppose it was better than yelling. If looks could kill, his would. There's no use in trying to defend yourself. It won't work. Once he has his mind set on something, there's almost no changing it.

He'll calm down eventually.

You could only hope your boss would be more forgiving.

By the time you get back, the hideout is dark. The others seem to have gone home for the night. If they were at the hideout, they made no appearance. Maybe whatever higher power is out there took pity on you, sparing you this bit of shame. Risotto's imposing figure soon appears from his office, carrying a stack of paperwork. Almost immediately he senses that something is wrong. Prosciutto takes a seat, gripping the arms of his chair so tight his knuckles turn white.

"Are you going to tell him what happened? Or do we have to wait for you to grace us with your knowledge?" Prosciutto sneers.

Risotto stops dead in his tracks. You shrink under his gaze. Even at the best of times his reaction is hard to read.

"Why the hell do I have to do it?!" You ask.

"Because you fucked up the mission!"

It's a fair point, but you're not going to let him have the satisfaction of admitting that he's right. You don't exactly have a defense here. There's only so much you can do to protect the shred of pride you have left.

Risotto's larger figure presses into you from behind. At first it's as if he's looking you over for injuries. His eyes scan over your body. Aside from your damaged pride, you're fine. One of his hands rests on your shoulder. His touch is rather gentle, but his grip is firm. If you really tried, you might be able to shake it. Even if you got away from him, there's still Prosciutto to deal with. You might have a chance against him in a fight. The two of you are relatively close in size. Assuming he doesn't call out Grateful Dead, you could get away.

What's the worst that could happen?

By then, fight or flight is kicking in. Every cell of your being is telling you to run. They look down at you like you're prey—like you’re some small animal to torment. Risotto wouldn't hurt you, but Prosciutto might. He tends to be a bit more unpredictable—and moody—than your boss. Although you may have just pissed them off enough that they don't care.

The second you flinch, Risotto's hands are grabbing a hold of your wrists, wrenching them behind your back. It's not outright painful, but it doesn't feel very good. You kick back, hitting him in his shin hard. He grunts in pain, his grip loosening for only a moment. You'll take any opening you can get. The second you bolt, he's dragging you back by the collar of your shirt, pinning your body to him. You don’t even make it two steps. With the way you're lifted off of the ground, you can only do so much to struggle.

Part of you feels ashamed for the throb this sends right to your pussy. Heat pools in the pit of your stomach, only worsened as Risotto's large hand wraps around your throat, tilting your chin up.

Prosciutto lets out a disappointed sounding sigh. "I really hope you'll put up more of a fight than that."

"Asshole!" You say. "Put me down!"

Maybe you won't win the fight, but you think you could give Prosciutto a good whacking.

"Are you going to try to run again?" Risotto asks. His breath is warm against your ear.

"No."

You take too long to answer. He sighs and sets you down, but his arms still hold you close to his chest. His chin rests on the top of your head, caging you in even more.

You swear you feel something hard pressing against your back.

Prosciutto grips you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. There's no wrenching out of his grasp. His glare is burning. It's worse than Risotto's. The least you could do to save your pride is look him in the eye.

"Christ you're pathetic." He says. "You're enjoying this, aren't you puttana?"

His hands quickly work to undo the buttons of your pants. There's not much you can do but squirm in a failed attempt to get away from his touch. You'd be fighting a lot harder if you didn't want it.

Prosciutto works you open with his fingers. His thumb idly traces around your clit. It won't get you anywhere fast, but with the way his finders stroke at your g-spot, it's enough. It takes everything within you to hold back your moan. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction. The lewd, wet noises are just loud enough to disguise your heavy breathing. Risotto's free hand- the one that's not holding you to him- wanders your body, groping the soft flesh of your ass and hips. His erection presses into you from behind, painfully hard.

"She's already wet. Look at this." Prosciutto sneers.

His hand glistens in the low light. He makes a show of licking his fingers, pulling them from his lips with an audible pop. Your face burns with shame. He pulls you in for a kiss. You hesitate for a moment, before giving in. He nibbles at your bottom lip until you open up for him, letting his tongue explore your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, his breath smells like wine. His spare hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The action is oddly affectionate compared to the predatory way his eyes look over your body. When he eventually pulls away, a line of saliva connects your lips.

"Let's find a use for that pretty mouth of yours," Prosciutto frees his cock, shoving your head down. His half hardened cock is inches away from your face. He's smaller than Risotto, though not by much. The head is red and angry looking, leaking precum. Your free hand wraps around Prosciutto's cock, stroking slowly. You lick a long stripe along the vein underneath- the one that runs all the way up his shaft- making him shudder. The taste is salty, but not entirely unpleasant.

Risotto grabs your hips, pulling you flush to his. Despite Prosciutto's prep, Risotto presses his fingers against your already soaked entrance. He's a bit larger than his partner, and doesn't want to hurt you. His long fingers stroke against your g-spot, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. He adds a third finger, pumping faster, fucking you with his fingers. Shamelessly you moan.

Prosciutto cocks an eyebrow to this, a smug looks spreading across his face. He'll never admit the jealousy that fills him as Risotto bends you over. He doesn't like you giving all of your attention to Risotto. It's an immature need to be the center of attention. You bob your head on his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip. He mumbles a weak "good girl" as you take him in his entirety. His hands card through your hair. He seemingly forgets what was bothering him before. The smell of his cologne is heady, making your head spin. You're already half drunk from Risotto's skilled touch.

The cold piercing that presses against your burning skin makes you shiver. Risotto's cock is built like the rest of him, long, dark, thick. The hairs towards the base are neatly trimmed and the same silver as the rest of his hair. He presses into you slowly, ready to stop should you show any sign of discomfort. If he was Pesci, Prosciutto would be shouting at him to go harder- that you could take it. Risotto groans when he bottoms out inside you, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass. His spare hand goes back to your clit, stroking it in slow, circular motions.

You're already about to cum when Risotto starts fucking into you. Your legs quiver, your moans stifled by Prosciutto's cock, who isn't far from his own release. His hands knot in your hair, shoving your mouth back down on his cock. Prosciutto scrambles for purchase against Risotto as you stroke a particularly sensitive spot, working the neglected parts of his cock with your free hand. He clamps a hand down on his partner's shoulder to steady himself. He gives no warning as he's about to cum, spilling his seed down your throat. Instinctively you swallow.

Prosciutto commits the look of your shaking form to memory. With his thumb he wipes away a drop of cum that's spilled onto your cheek.

Risotto picks up his pace, pounding into you from behind. His nails leave indents in your skin. They'll bruise tomorrow. It doesn't matter how many times you've taken him, he always takes some getting used to. The stretch of his cock isn't outright painful, but it does sting in a pleasurable sort of way. He hits deeper than Prosciutto, stroking at sweet spots you didn't even know you had. He coos words of praise into your ear as he fucks into you, his composure dropping as he gets close to his release.

Your own orgasm rolls over you like a wave, swallowing you whole and spitting you back out. You're left shaky, and too tired to resist as Risotto uses you to chase his own release. What sets him over the edge is the way your pussy clenches around him. He cums hard, spilling his seed into your unprotected womb.

He shudders as he pulls out. Cum drips down your inner thighs. Prosciutto's cold hands slide up your back, coming to rest on your shoulders. His chest presses into you from behind. He leans past you to press a quick peck to his partner’s lips. The action leaves Risotto red in the face, but his calm composure doesn't falter.

The pair holds you between them as you settle down. You’re left sleepy, albeit a bit sore. Maybe you'll take tomorrow off. You listen to the steady beating of Risotto’s heart as he pulls you close to his chest, Prosciutto on the opposite side of you doing the same. Moments where he isn’t threatening to kill you are very rare. You cherish them when they pop up.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Risotto's thumb traces your bottom lip. Slowly you nod. Prosciutto lets out an annoyed scoff, but says nothing.

"Good." He says.

#jjba x reader #proscuitto x reader #risotto x reader #risotto x reader x prosciutto #risotto nero x reader #not sfw #jjba #vento aureo #golden wind #jojo's bizarre adventure #cw dubcon #cw degradation

[honeytea8]

✨✨La Squadra Boyfriend Headcanons✨✨

[Alexa, play Boyfriend by Big Time Rush]

Guys, I spend an ungodly amount of time thinking about La Squadra, so here are some bf headcanons for the sexiest group of assassins in Naples. No one asked but I am bringing it straight to your dash anyway! (under the cut for length lmao)

I’m going to start with Prosciutto, who has recently fallen on my radar pretty heavy! 

He’s a good and decent boyfriend, if not a busy one. Not that he doesn’t care about the relationship, but most of his energy was going to Passione things before you waltzed in and so he’ll struggle a bit between his work responsibilities and maintaining his relationship with you, but only in the beginning. 

If you are also a part of Passione, it’s a hell of a lot easier to manage. 

I see Prosciutto as the gift-giving type: lingerie, sweets, perfume, designers, etc. His salary isn’t the best, but he manages it as well as he can just to accommodate you! 

I just can’t get the idea out of my head that Pro was raised by a strict mama, that’s why he can be a bit of a stickler sometimes. He’ll catch you still lounging in bed at nine am, and be like ��Why are you still in bed? Get dressed, we’re going out.” Dude!

I’m sorry to say, but Prosciutto is absolutely the ‘lecturing’ type. (He lectured someone in nearly every scene in the anime, Formaggio once and Pesci numerously and Bucci too) 

He will lecture you when you make mistakes, especially because as his s/o, he has high expectations for you and believes you’re capable of so much more. It’s never, ever out of hate. He loves you, and that’s why he chides you a bit lol. 

This does not negate the fact that he doesn't mind when you lean on him for support. He likes when you count on him, because he always comes through especially for you!

Depending on whether you’re in the mafia or not, I totally see him sparring with you, or working out with you in an effort to make you tough. Prosciutto wants you to be able to defend yourself, just in case. If you complain, he’ll tell you, “Better safe than sorry, tesoro”.

Prosciutto will respect you, period.

A good listener, goddamn! He’s up there with Risotto when it comes to who listens to their s/o more! If you have an issue, he’ll hear you out and offer advice if you want it. If you give him advice, he’ll take it into serious consideration. He’s honestly a good partner, can’t stress that enough.

Finally, sex with Pro is an entire event. Romantic dinner, candles lit, wine, the whole nine yards before he gives you nine inches of something else :) (I’m kidding!! Lmao, kinda). 

But as I said, Prosciutto is quite deliberate, and a bit of a perfectionist. He knows what to do and how to do it, you can trust him.

Ghiaccio is next only because he’s my favorite. 

The ice gremlin is probably the most interesting (and hilarious) boyfriend out of the bunch (I say this with only a tidbit of bias). He isn’t funny himself, but funny shit just happens to him. 

Because of this, he will use you as a soundboard when everyone else refuses to listen to him. He’s got a lot to say, so be prepared for his TEDtalks. LMAO!

It will take some perception on your part to notice when he actually expects a response from you, and other times he’s just ranting to get his point out. 

He will correct your grammar when you text, but barely notices when he makes a similar mistake (his brain moves in mph). Please use the proper names like Venezia, Italia, Roma and Napoli when talking to this man; save yourself from the headache.

When it comes to dates, please have mercy on him, he’s a textbook over-thinker! You’ll just have to plan something simple at home for you both to enjoy. 

He isn’t incapable of planning dates, but he’ll want everything to be so absolutely perfect for his s/o and will throw a fit when it ultimately isn’t. 

Contrary to popular belief, I think that Ghiaccio is a pretty attentive partner. He’s super intelligent and I think a part of it stems from his innate ability to read people (I’m referencing the part in the anime where he deduced what Giorno and Mista had come to look for, while going off very little information). 

The more time he spends with you, the better he gets at it. 

His form of affection will be shown through the amount of time you both spend together. When it comes to sex or anything related to that, be gentle and slow as Ghiaccio will likely be a flustered mess. 

As he becomes more comfortable and confident, he will be bolder and just ask out right if you’ll suck him off tonight or not. The man appreciates directness, so don’t bother being coy. “You want me to give you head? Cool, lay down a towel or something.” is what he’ll probably say.

Very practical 👌🏾👌🏾

Melone, good lord, he’s kind of perfect. 

A bit of a doting boyfriend here and there—very much concerned about your health. Expect him to ask if you’ve eaten, or taken your multivitamin. How are your bowel movements?  LMAO

It can become a bit much, but he really genuinely cares. He’s not asking to be intrusive or nasty! If he was, you’d know. 🤣

But I seriously consider Melone to be the one (at least among La Squadra) who is way, way invested in his relationships. He will know every little detail about you; will ask you lots of questions and expects you to ask him just as many. 

This may be annoying to some, but this dude will definitely bring up your horoscope in an argument. He’ll be like “I honestly can’t fathom why you’re being this way, though it’s to be expected from a libra.” 

Peg this bitch so he can shut up.  

Melone is also touchy as hell, but not in a clingy way. He loves touching, and just to tag onto the headcanon about his partial blindness, I want to say that he’s so touchy because that’s how he ‘sees’ you best.

Just know that half the time, he isn’t touching you to be lecherous, even if he genuinely does like the feel of your skin under his fingertips. Melone will even encourage you to touch him back. 

Rub his thigh or back and he’ll be simping.

He is obsessed with your legs, and will paint your toes if you let him. 

LOVES PDA! Melone will also tongue-kiss you in public if you let him!

Notice how I keep saying ‘if you let him’. Give him an inch and he’ll press you for a mile, so if there are boundaries you would like to establish, please do, cuz he sure as hell won’t, just saying!

When it comes to sex, Melone is a dick and coochie sensei. Oral is his favorite thing to do, probably enjoys giving more than receiving to be honest. I’d say he’s pretty much mastered sex for what it is. 

That being said, if he’s ever talking out of his neck, just invite him to put his mouth to better use. He’ll even thank you for your gracious request.

Formaggio is next 💀 

According to my JoJo compatriots from discord, he’s like the Optimus Prime of fuckboi’s so let’s ride that wave for a bit! LMAO

I hope it doesn’t come as a surprise that Formaggio is pretty shameless. He will send you a dick pic on Sunday morning before church and have the audacity to say “Just wanted to bless you real quick”. 

@autumn-kouhai mentioned him giving his s/o sickly sweet pet names and I just have to agree. 

Expect to be hit upside the head with: baby-boo, sugar plum, honey bunches, sweetums. I can imagine them becoming really ridiculous too like “the last piece of red velvet cake” or “cheddar bae biscuits from Red Lobster”

His catch phrase is “Got nudes?”

Send them, and he won’t be afraid to reply with something equally sexy. 

Be warned though, he will stockpile whatever you send him and then be careless with his phone. If you don’t mind Illuso’s snoopy ass seeing your nudes then by all means, have at it. Otherwise, send them through snapchat, so they disappear later. 

As far as La Squadra boyfriends go, he’s the most fun! Y’all don’t even go anywhere because man’s is broke. BUT, Formaggio knows how to have a good time without any need to spend money (my kind of dude tbh) you guys just crank up the tunes, dance, and get lit until the neighbors complain. 

Formi is also the CEO of jokes/memes, and will have you in absolute tears almost always! I literally tell my friends that funny guys are so dangerous, don’t sleep on them! They will make you laugh until your panties drop, it’s magic, I swear. Formaggio has that same energy. 

No matter how bad of a day his s/o is having, rest assured, he will draw the biggest laugh out of you.

Besides his fuckboi tendencies, his most redeeming quality is the fact that he’s super cool and fun to hang with. You’ll literally have a good time, always, because his energy is right! Very good vibes around this man, I swear! It’ll be exactly like dating your best friend, because essentially, he will be your bestie.

Formi has many moments of tenderness that aren’t sexually charged too—moments where the jokes stop and he’ll just rub your back or feet, this is usually when you aren’t feeling well and need some quiet. 

However, Formaggio won’t let you mope all day, he’ll pull out the big guns and call you his “sweetie baby” and when you try to resist he’ll say “What, I’m just tryna show you some love.”

He’s a good dude lmao I’d date a guy like him irl 😭

Pesci stans wya??! Let’s get into this baby boy. 

Pesci is boyfriend material, idgaf what anyone says. 

He is pretty much the least problematic to be with among all of La Squadra, even more so than Risotto (don’t argue with me). 

Pesci is hyper aware of your likes and dislikes and will literally go out of his way to make sure that you’re well and okay. 

Arguments are basically nonexistent and if they occur it ain’t coming from his side. 

I also think that Pesci has a lot of empathy, so when you’re going through something, he’s right there in the thick of it with you. If you’ve seen that meme that goes ‘when my gf is on her period it’s UterUS’ lmao that’s Pesci’s energy 100%. 

Sometimes, he’s more of a lover and not a fight, that is perfectly okay!

However, if someone tries up his s/o, say farewell to Mr. Niceguy. He will defend your honor to his dying breath. And with you in his corner, trust me, he’s not going down. 

A romantic at heart, Pesci will plan little date trips like picnics in the park or boat trips to Capri, actually, I’d like to point out that he excels in the art of date planning. If you’re the adventurous type, he’ll plan outings where you both will be more active, like biking through the city or renting a mop-ed and going sight-seeing. 

Because Pesci has a sensitive stomach, he’s very much considerate of what you both put in your bodies. If you have dietary restrictions or allergies, this guy knows all about it and will cater to you perfectly. 

A true gentleman through and through, he will never force himself on you, ever. In fact, he really doesn’t like engaging in anything sexual when you’re drunk or high, sorry if you’re into that! 

Pesci is the kind of guy who keeps up with your favorite shows.

If ya’ll have similar taste in media or literature, he will immerse himself in it so that he can relate to you all the more.

If there’s anyone who will entertain anime-related discourse, no matter how nonsensical, it’s Pesci. And he isn’t just putting up with it, he’s actively engaging in the conversation so you are always heard and validated. 

He’s an A+ boyfriend, that’s all I gotta say! Haters can stay mad :)

Goddamn Illuso... idk man.

I really feel like you have to have thick/tough skin to handle this guy, for various reasons. 

The first being that Illuso can be a bit mean at first. He’ll push your buttons on purpose just to see what’ll make you tick. Will tease the living heck out of you, always, kind of a bully lmao but not to the extreme, it’s just his brand of humor—and the thing is, he won’t be mad when you dish it right back, so it’s cool. 

Secondly, Illuso has big dick energy!! 

I mean rightfully so, because he is indeed packing! But my word, he ain’t humble about it at all! 

He is not above making jokes about ‘splitting you in half’. In fact all of his jokes have hidden, dirty undertones! 

His affection is shown through speech mostly. Illuso will drop subtle innuendos and provocations, half to see you flustered and half because he wants you to know how much he wants you. 

Illuso isn’t incredibly vocal about his feelings outside of ‘I’m tryna hit that thang’ but you won’t doubt that he loves you because Illuso doesn’t waste his own time. 

If he’s spending his time with you, you can rest assured that it’s because he wants to. 

Illuso is a voyeur and you’ll just have to understand/accept that and move on. 

He loves watching you and will even creep over to your place through the mirror world just to hang or watch you do chores. Loves to surprise you and give you jump scares lmao it’ll make you a tad paranoid but it’s also fun. 

Illuso is prone to random bouts of sweetness; it’s very sporadic, very touch-and-go. 

One day, you’ll wake up to chocolates on your dresser or new shoes, lingerie, or makeup if you wear it. I imagine that if you’re low on funds, he will even help you buy your groceries that week. 

It’ll surprise the hell out of you, but that’s just how Illuso is. He enjoys keeping you on your toes! 

He’s prideful and smug as hell, so he will definitely expect a thank you, because even if he does it out of the kindness in his heart, he also wants to hear that you appreciate him

Same goes for the bedroom scene. Illuso loves making you vocal, it’s his favorite thing in the world, so he’ll make a game out of doing the things that get the biggest reaction out of you. Like I said, it's that big dick energy at work here, smh.

Sorbet and Gelato in a polyamorous relationship with you? Let’s get it! 

We don’t get anything substantial about these two except that Sorbet follows the money, so these are all personal headcanons for how I see and write them. 

Here’s the juice: when it comes to you as their s/o, these two are possessive as hell. You are theirs and that’s that on that! 😭 Don’t ask questions, just go with it.

Sorbet is the chill one of the duo. He can be a bit smug at times, but he’s mostly a laid back dude who doesn’t get bothered by much.

When it comes to you, Sorbet likes to spend quality time with you more than anything, and will ask you to cook for him at your place so he ain’t gotta spend money. Oh? Did I not mention that I kinda think of him as a cheapskate? Lmao cuz I do.

Sorbet will come by your place just to steal your coupons from the mail then head out; you’re not using ‘em so why should he let them go to waste?

Gelato is the complete opposite; personality wise, I headcanon him as a mix between Melone and Formaggio lmao

But it’s not as crazy as it sounds, he’s cute and outspoken like Melone, while maintaining a free-spirit like Formaggio. One quality that I like is that he’s quite devoted to you and Sorbet. If anyone crosses either of you, goodluck to them!

I like to think Gelato’s also just really boujee and high maintenance. He loves to pamper and be pampered. You and him tag-team Sorbet’s wallet and go on spa dates together at his expense (not that he ever really stood a chance)

While Sorbet is cool with just being in the same room as you, Gelato loves hugging/cuddling with you and Sorbet—will definitely fight for the middle spot between the two of you on the couch during movie nights.

He baby, so let him have it lol

In the bedroom, I would salute anyone with the guts to take the two of them on. They both lay down that work, period. 

Sorbet gets his kicks from teasing and edging you (his sadistic side comes out a bit), while Gelato loves when you give him extra TLC. To put it short, they know how to take care of you, so there are no issues there. 

Last but not least, Mr. Risotto Nero himself.

Man, idc on the lowest of keys, he seems a little bit like a grandpa to me

The type to sit at home and do crosswords, has a bird feeder in his yard and plays old Italian hits while washing the dishes. It’s very domestic 💀 (I find it cute, whatever!)

As a boyfriend, I can’t imagine him suddenly being spontaneous or outgoing unless you drag him out of his home/comfort zone.

Be patient with Mr. Nero, and he can come to surprise you

After a while, it won’t be just you dragging him out and about; one day he’ll ask you to come over and you’ll be greeted with a nice, traditional, homemade meal

Pay attention and you will notice him watching your face to see if you like his cooking 🥺

After seeing his fight with Doppio, I must admit that Risotto is very, very observant, almost scarily so.

I can totally picture him pointing out random things about his s/o that even they don’t know

One night, Risotto may come up to you and say “I talked to your neighbor about the dog, they’ll keep it inside now.” And you’re just staring like 😳 how did he know the barking was keeping you up at night????

He’s sweet, and will take good care of you as a boyfriend should.

Very good listener, won’t talk as much but will hang on to your every word, I promise. He could even recite it to you verbatim.

He’s a big dude, that ain’t news, so expect to be swallowed up in hugs and sometimes even picked up (as a tall girl myself, I simp!!!)

Gives A1 piggyback rides, lol

ALSO RISOTTO IS HUMBLE ASF!

Big dick energy, but on low volume 👏🏾 after all, he doesn’t need to do much talking, because a night with him is more than enough!

Listen babe, you better stretch, do some squats, and prep in whatever way you can before Mr. Nero gives you that work. 🤐

Lowkey a freak, but it’s well hidden behind his ‘quiet giant’ exterior

So, who are y'all dating? Personally, I’m going for Formaggio and Pesci hehe

#jojo #jojo’s bizarre adventure #vento aureo #la squadra #prosciutto #illuso #formaggio #melone #risotto nero #pesci #ghiaccio #gelato and sorbet #la squadra esecuzioni #la squadra di esecuzione #jojo headcanons #la squadra x reader #jojo part 5

[fascination-street-writing]

For Make Believe and Not So | Part II of II | La Squadra x Reader

To wake up to the sight of your messy hair and eyes softened by sleep is a lovely pleasure in life, but one not granted to him nearly enough. Tonight, however, you will stay and dream of an impossible future together. Tonight, you will save the heartbreak for your better selves.

Link to Part I

Content Warnings: N-SFW Sexual Content

The faux leather of the booth seating creaks with each jostle of laughter and lunge across the table for another shot of liquor. You suppose – after weighing the throbbing of your knees to the disoriented thrum of your head – that you have drank far too much. But you do not care, for you know that you are indeed with good company. Never mind that you had agreed to work opening shift tomorrow, because that is not your trouble now.

Though the music from the speakers blares through the tight space of the bar and patrons shout in jovial cheer to one another, you could not be bothered by the distractions. After all, the game of briscola before you is far more enticing – that, and your team is winning.

Formaggio nudges you in the ribs and discretely flashes you his cards before playing his turn for the both of you. Melone throws his cards down with a groan, withdrawing from the game. If not for Formaggio, you might have done the same; you are lost – utterly and completely lost. Perhaps you would have done better for yourself if you were not currently so intoxicated.

You reach for your ears to twirl your earrings out of habit, only to be met with air. Your silver earrings sit discarded on the table. You remember now; something about Illuso using the reflection to cheat, and Formaggio begging you to take them out. You did so with a shrug, though not entirely certain that your partner’s whim was so embedded in truth. Your earrings were not that shiny.

In the end, the two of you finish the game victorious. The waiter sets down a tray full of cinnamon whiskey shots. A cloud of cigarette smoke engulfs the table as Prosciutto takes a drag and sighs, accepting his defeat. Seated beside him, a look of mortification sweeps across Pesci’s face. “Do I have to?” he asks, eyeing the amber-colored liquid with hesitation.

“You lost, ragazzo,” Formaggio sneers with a smirk. He slides the tray towards the younger man.

“Mhm, losers have to drink up,” you say with a giggle. “You knew the rules.”

Pesci bites his lip. “It’s just – Well I . . . Uh . . .”

Prosciutto rolls his eyes. “Gesù Cristo, Pesci,” he mutters. “If you want to salvage your dignity, then drink.”

The green-haired man turns red in the face. “It isn’t bad, Pesci,” you insist, reaching across the table to tap his knuckles in an attempt of reassurance. “I promise.”

It is enough to goad him, but begrudgingly so. Liquor held at eye level, he swallows his spit before downing it in two – no, three – sips. He sputters and coughs as the whiskey burns his throat. The others laugh, yet he feels as if he has conquered the world, though only for a moment. The way you praise him, like hailing some accolade of his, makes him want to try again. Just to hear you speak so fondly of him.

Alas, the night drones on. Formaggio leaves the booth to chat up the bartender, and Melone wastes no time in claiming the newly vacated space beside you. You do not mind the change in scenery and the way he practically dangles off you, or the comments he throws your way regarding just how much he admires the style of your hair tonight – or, about the way your outfit perfectly accentuates your birthing hips (“That dress was made for you, bella-bella”). It is not until he asks about your blood type that Risotto promptly hoists you from your seat and ushers you to sit betwixt he and Prosciutto. You never had the chance to protest.

“What’s this?” Formaggio asks when he returns with two drinks clutched in his hands – one for you, no doubt. “How the hell are the rest of us supposed to shoot our shot with [Y/N] when she’s sitting between you two?”

His words fly over your head. Your attention is instead trained on the purple concoction he holds. “Speak for yourselves,” Ghiaccio scoffs. “You should have better things to worry about than getting your dick wet.”

“Hey, hey – I never said I didn’t have important things on my mind, but she’s one of them!”

“Wait, what?” you suddenly ask, your interest piqued after receiving your drink.

“Formaggio’s trying to fuck you,” Ghiaccio says with disinterest.

You shake your head and chuckle, chewing on your straw. “Of all the people at this table – no, in this bar – you’re the last person I’d sleep with, Maggi.”

Those cat-like eyes glisten and his jaw drops. The others erupt, and you can only hope that you have not wounded his pride too much. It is all just fun and games, after all. Formaggio points an accusatory finger towards Pesci. “You’d even pick testa di ananas here over me?”

“I said what I said.”

“Mio dio!”

At the end of the night, it is Ghiaccio who agrees to drive you back to your apartment – and reluctantly so. You stumble out to his maroon Alpina with little help from him. You think that he must like watching you trip over the bits of loose cobblestone masonry that line the pathway to the parking lot; even more, you suspect that he does not care for you very much. Or at least, not nearly to the same extent that the others do. It is no matter, for you have learned that you cannot win the favor of everyone. It is one of life’s many daunting natures.

The soft lights of Napoli flash by in a whirl as the car speeds down the road. Admittedly, he drives a bit too fast for comfort – or perhaps it is his attempt at furthering the wedge between you two. When he nearly swerves into oncoming traffic, undoubtedly distracted by something, you wonder if it is his vendetta to get you killed tonight. You suppose he would not risk the insurance claim on his car, however. The thought quells you. But it does not change the matter of your non-existent comradery to the man driving.

He is intelligent – one of most intelligent people whom you have ever met. Yet, his fixating rampages over the most miniscule of things is startling. Frightening, even. More often than not, however, it is he who is the subject of his own rage.

“Ghiaccio, can I tell you something?” you ask, though you know he will tell you to be quiet. You do not give him the chance to say so. “I think that deep down, you’re a nice guy. You just don’t want the others to see it, for whatever reason.”

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

“I had a good time tonight, and I hope you did too. It was nice seeing you let loose a bit.”

To say that he ‘let loose’ is a gross understatement. He refused to join the game of briscola, insisting that it would not be a fair match, and that the lights were too dim to even see the cards properly. He had refused every beverage offered to him – even water. Ghiaccio merely sulked the entire night, making it clear enough that he would rather have been elsewhere.

“It would be nice to do it again, and I –“

“Just, stop,” he hisses, throwing out his fingers in frustration, without releasing the wheel. “Stop talking.”

You huff and look away. The air within the car turns cold. It makes you shiver. “I know you’re just trying to get me to take back what I said, but I won’t. Why can’t you just let me say something nice to you? Why can’t you let me try to be cordial? I’m not asking you to like me or anything. You don’t have to be so hostile, especially when I’ve done nothing wrong to you.”

The car rolls to a halt in front of the townhouse that you share with several other university schoolmates. You expected an attempt at some semblance of an apology, but you were simply hoping for too much from the man beside you. Grabbing your purse, you wrench the door open, failing to notice the ice chips that have formed around the seal. They crackle and shatter on the pavement.

“I’m sorry.”

You thought too soon, it seems. He does not look at you – in fact, he refuses to tear his gaze from the road ahead of him. Stiffly, his jaw juts out in vexation, and you can practically see the gears churning in his mind. He does not know what to say next, yet you have heard all you need.

With a glimmer of a smile, you bid him adieu: “Goodnight, Ghiaccio. Thank you for the ride.”

He watches you hobble up the steps, supposing that he ought to have at least offered to help you inside. But why should he force himself into your servitude when you were the one who chose to drink tonight? Shaking his head, he at least waits until you vanish behind the front door – though not because he wishes you well.  

Certainly not.

Behind closed doors, you have taken a lover. You do not dwell in childish games with one another. In front of the others, you spare the fleeting looks of longing – of insatiable adoration to the man who succeeded in swaying your affection in his favor, and he to yours. You suspect that they must know of the affair, but he insists that your secret has been kept. It is better this way, for all parties involved. Better than souring hearts or making enemies of those who have become your closest of friends.

You suppose that you might feel remorse with each passing of his fingers over the supple perks of your breasts – but guilt does not make your belly swell with anticipation. With a content sigh and a lopsided smile, laced with ardor, he leans over your sprawled form and brushes his lips to yours. He thinks you look like a goddess, naked and tangled in the mess of bedsheets; and perhaps you are, for he has never met a woman as beautiful as you. He pulls away, only to kiss you again, as if to prove to himself that you are real. Goddess or not, you are corporeal.

Do not ask him to say that he loves you, because he will not admit it. And yet, under his gaze, you swear that you have become a daisy flower, potted on a windowsill, and he the preening blue jay, just beyond the reach of the glass. You wish to feel this way forever.

“Do that again,” you command, a nymph-like grin on your face. You reach out a hand to cup his cheek and sweep your thumb over the moon of his cheek.

Illuminated by high-spirits and spent desire, he cocks an eyebrow. “Do what, cara?”

“Kiss me.”

Who is he to deny you? At the peak of your own satisfaction, his lips move to your neck, savoring the warmth of fresh love-bites. You turn your head to give him ample space. You will surely parish in the heat tomorrow, in what will be your decision to wear a turtleneck to cover the blemishes, but that is a problem for your future self. The gentle rumble of a stifled chuckle sends a vibration through you. You bury your fingers in his hair, holding him close – as if he might slip away if only you let go.

“You look pretty like this,” he says without pulling away. You quiver as wetness pools between your thighs. “Sei così bella.”

“And only for you,” you tell him.

He shifts until his trail of kisses have led him to your glistening folds. “Only for me.”

You wait in your own delirium for his mouth to work you open. And he does, until he has had his fill of your balm and saccharine sweetness. You writhe and buckle into his lips. Just before you reach your limit, he stops and beckons you to stand. You do so on shaking legs. He settles against the headboard and you follow suit, straddling his hips and sinking yourself down on his stiffened member. Arms coiled around his neck, you stretch around his shaft and sigh in delight as you contort to his hardness, as if already molded into memory. His hands clasp your hips, urging you along with each jostle of your body.

It is euphoric. Even when you throw your head back in ecstasy and cry out his name, reaching your fill and gifting to him your release, his eyes never leave your face. To wake up to the sight of your messy hair and eyes softened by sleep is a lovely pleasure in life, but one not granted to him nearly enough. Tonight, however, you will stay and dream of an impossible future together.

Tonight, you will save the heartbreak for your better selves.

When a neatly packaged box addressed to the men of La Squadra di Esecuzione arrives on the front doorstep of their hideout – via express mail, no less – Risotto is the one to bring it into the living room, though not because he wants to. He recognizes the penmanship of the scrawled address. He has seen it on dossiers, files, letters of grievances and recommendations, and of course, thirty-six wrapped formalin frames. As always, there is never a return address. But he knows who it is from, even before Formaggio slices through the tape that welds the box shut.

Photographs spill onto the coffee table. Far too many to count, admittedly. And all of them, pictures of you. The first that Melone pulls from the pile is one of you caught in motion, a textbook clutched in your arm and your cellphone held up to your ear – heading to a class amidst the bustle of your university campus, no doubt. A look of exasperation sweeps your face, frozen in an eye roll and a scoff. The next is a photograph of you at work, in mid-conversation with Formaggio, who leans over the front counter. Your hand hovers over the cash register, ready to punch in the total for his order. What the camera did not capture was the smile upon his face as he beamed up at you. He takes the picture from Illuso’s grasp.

The analog lettering in the corner is dated to the very same day that the green-eyed man first visited you at the pizza shop. “Unbelievable,” he hisses. “Unbe-fucking-lievable!”

There is a photograph of you sharing a cigarette with Risotto in a park near your apartment – something that has become an unspoken pastime between you two. There is a photograph of you sitting in Ghiaccio’s car the night of the bar trip; his scowl has been immortalized for the others to see, and for a moment, a twinge of regret eggs him. Another of you in the bar with everyone else, taken through the cloudy glass of the front window, earlier that same night. When the photograph of you and your lover is turned over, all eyes fall to the man – accusatory gazes laden with what might perhaps be anger. But it is not the time to dwell in jealousy and betrayal, because he will lose you soon enough.

“He’s been watching us, all this time.”

Melone begins to flip the photographs over. Despite the tension of the room, something has caught his attention. “Some of these have letters on the back,” he says as he shows the evidence to his squadmates. “This one’s an L. Here’s a P. And an A.”

It is Illuso who understands the intention, though only after finding an E and an I. Lei – she, in reference of course to you. “It’s a message,” he insists.

No one argues. Not even Ghiaccio makes the effort to refute the permissibility of Illuso’s discovery. By the time the code is finally pieced together, the room has grown heavy and odorous of cigarette smoke. Two spent packs litter the floor, but Prosciutto will worry about sweeping the ashes later. He can bear the mess a bit longer, for there is another – far more pressing – that needs tended to. In that tantalizing cursive, the ever-elusive Don of Passione speaks: “Lei è la prossima.”            

She’s next.

No one speaks. How could you, their fondest friend – a woman who delivers pizza to fund her way through her studies – have fallen into Passione’s snare? “It wasn’t enough that he killed Sorbet and Gelato,” Illuso sneers. “Now this? Now her?”

Risotto is quick to shut him down. “I told you to forget about them,” he reminds the men. “I told you to – ”

“How are we supposed to do that when this shows up at our doorstep?” It is Melone who interrupts. Risotto stiffens. “How are any of us supposed to forget about Sorbet and Gelato when the situation is about to repeat itself? We can’t, and you can’t expect us to.”

“I can, and I will. And I expect the same to be done of her.” The man with black sclerae cannot even utter your name. Even the thought of it makes his chest tighten. “From this point on, I am prohibiting all of you from seeing her. If not for your sakes, then hers.”

Truly, each man in the room already knew the daunting solution – they simply did not wish to hear it uttered aloud. Your safety and well-being are important to them; it just so happened that the bond you share has put your life in jeopardy. They will not be the reason for your death. “So, who’s going to tell her?” Pesci asks.

“Why bother?” Ghiaccio huffs. “What part of ‘forget about her’ don’t you understand, mammoni?”

Pesci casts his gaze downward to avert the glare of the hot-tempered man. No man in the room volunteers. Their leader supposes that it ought to be his duty – to assume the responsibility, considering that it was his insistence. But, despite the stoicism, he never has been good at saying farewell.

“I’ll do it.”

Prosciutto steps forward, and the others are grateful for it. “It seems that, in the Don’s attempt to herd us like sheep – to weaken us into subordination – he’s instead succeeded in creating enemies for himself.”

He releases a puff of cigarette smoke. Perhaps he should have held it in for a bit longer, until his lungs swelled, and his head grew dizzy – because in the end, he feels nothing.

Aprile in Napoli is, you think, the loveliest time of the year. The pavement is slick with afternoon rain, but it does not trouble you in the slightest. In truth, you enjoy the smell of rain – it is purity and earth, and a fresh start. You peddle to a stop just before the row of graffitied townhouses at Vivo Pallonetto Santa Chiara. This time, there is no dog to gawk at you through a window. No child in rags to run past you with a stolen purse. No pizzas with sausage, eggplant, or porcini mushrooms, either.

Only you and your shattered heart.

You do not bother to tether your bike in place, because you will not stay long. With each step on the cracked concrete stairwell, it becomes harder to breathe, and you imagine that you are traversing your own ascension. Only, there is no heaven at the top – unless heaven is a locked door. In that case, you want little to do with her. You find the key buried within your purse, amongst gum wrappers, a bottle of vitamins, and receipts that ought to have been thrown out long ago.

You had not known what to say to the young man – no, the boy – with golden hair and turquoise eyes who met you in a black Maserati with tinted windows. You had not known what to say when he handed you an envelope with money and the key. Something of compensation for their family, he had said, to get along after their deaths. Had they even had family outside their tightly woven niche? You never knew. Your tongue grew heavy like lead: you did not thank the boy, but he did not expect you to. Instead, you sat in the backseat of his car and wept, moistening the expensive upholstery with tears.

There were no funerals. No memorial services. No solidary condolences. Only money to finish your studies, loneliness, and a key.

You begged the chauffer to pull over. You exited the car without so much as a contemplation of gratitude. There you stood, in some distant courtyard of a café, where you had met Prosciutto one last time just months ago. Or maybe it has been years. Grief has a way of making time pass slower. Perhaps you are already an old lady – or perhaps, only twenty and some more.

He greeted you with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a peculiar tiredness to his eyes. You moved to take a seat, but he held out his hand to stop you. You understood what he wanted – he wanted you to walk with him until you reached the park where too many times before you sojourned with Risotto. Only then, with Prosciutto instead, the sight of the neatly cropped grass made your stomach curl.

“Don’t make this difficult for me,” the blonde man said, all the while avoiding your furrowed brow and gaping mouth. “But you need to stop coming around. It’s better this way, for all of us and yourself.”

Do not be difficult – and so, you do not beg or cry, nor do you ask questions. You had always known that dangerous men did not make safe company. You knew, forever in your soul, that Eden did not last forever; and one day, you would have to leave. Prosciutto stubbed his spent cigarette on the heel of his shoe. You thought he meant to reach for a new one, but you did not give him the opportunity to.

He never said you could not hug him. And so, you did. Face buried in the lapel of his suit jacket, you spoke: “I know it’s not any of my business why, so I won’t ask,” you told him. His breath hitched. “It’s not my place to pry. Oh, I’ll miss you all so terribly, but, in the end, I wish you the best.”

His arms encircled your back, hesitant to return the gesture of your affection. At first, he merely hovered; yet, when you moved to pull away, he held you, tight. “I told you not to make this hard,” he mumbled into your hair. Vanilla – your hair smelled like vanilla. “Be good, bella ragazza. Stay safe for us, huh?”

“You too, Prosciutto.”

You insert the key into the lock. A part of you wishes it will not fit – that you can turn around and leave this wretched place that you love so dearly; why bother with something that will only make you wish you had not done it? Alas, the knob clicks. It is closure you seek, and you open the door. You could have prayed for a nasty little prank. That, sitting on the couch, Formaggio would be waiting for you, with a lopsided grin on his face, asking what took you so long?

Prosciutto might be cooking pasta and puttanesca in the kitchen, simply because he knows it is your favorite. Pesci might be watching a game of soccer on the television, glad for a new spectator to endorse his commentary. Illuso might be standing there, offering you a glass of wine to share with his own – a toast to the end of an arduous week, or just because he feels like it. Melone might beckon you to sit on the floor so that he can give you a back massage after your long night of running around Napoli. Risotto might be brooding in silence, though his demeaner brightens whenever you enter the room; and already, his fingers will begin to itch at the anticipation of slipping away for a cigarette with you. And Ghiaccio . . . Well, maybe Ghiaccio might scoff at your intrusion, but you would welcome it all the same.

But it is only you and your thoughts. With a shudder and a sigh, you sit down on the couch. The springs contort beneath your weight. Cobwebs adorn the walls like autumn decorations. Dust collects on the furniture. Everything has been left out as if they all might walk through the door at any moment and resume their allotted daily leisure.  A tear trickles down your cheek. You wipe it away and hold your breath until your eyes dry and you cannot cry. They would not want to see you like this, and you know that it is best to just move on with your life. To reach for the opportunities that were never permitted to them.

Your cellphone vibrates – a phone call from a schoolmate. Against your better judgement, you flip the screen open and accept. “Hey, [Y/N]!” she says to you. “We’re still meeting up to study tonight, right?”

You look to your watch. You were supposed to be at the library twenty minutes ago – this little detour of yours has not come without consequences. “Um, yeah,” you tell her. Your voice echoes in the dark space of the room. It makes you wince. “Sorry, I just lost track of the time. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Well, if you’re going to keep me waiting, I’ll get us some coffees. Addio!”

You toss the key on the coffee table, atop a stack of over-turned photographs that you cannot be bothered to look at. It is none of your business, anyways. Or at least, that is what you told Prosciutto. At the door, you turn the lock, prepared to seal it all away. In the hue of the setting sun, you cast one final longing gaze into the living room. With the shaking of your head, you shut the door behind you and take your first step forward, though not before uttering to vacancy of that which was once irrefutable happiness.  

“Arrivederci, amici miei.”

| 4364 Words | Epilogue |

#la squadra x reader #la squadra #prosciutto x reader #risotto x reader #formaggio x reader #melone x reader #illuso x reader #ghiaccio x reader #jjba reader insert #vento aureo

[kindajared]

Lillian please write la squadra reverse harem I beg

(Y e s absolutely uwu) (Pesci I’m sorry jfknbwvrijfvnjksod)

La Squadra Reverse Harem

Formaggio

This man is a BIG flirt and he’s absolutely shameless, so he’ll take every chance he gets to compliment you and make conversation. Even if you’re busy doing something, he’ll act like he has something important to talk to you about, but no, he just wants to look at your pretty face. He will wrap his arm around your waist or give your hand a graze without saying anything, but he will absolutely back off if need be.

When it comes to keeping you from the others. He butts into conversations and tries to make it about you and him rather than whatever was being discussed. He will do favors for you that you didn’t ask for and brag about it in front of the others. His main rival is Illuso.

“Sugar, you’re lookin’ mighty fine today, I’m at your service.”

Illuso

Another flirt, but on another level. He vies for your attention quite a lot, a bit too much. His arrogance is undeniable and that’s one of his biggest flaws. But when with you, you’re his top priority. He also has a tendency to watch you, inside of the mirror world and out. He tends to forget he’s not hidden when you look over to see that piercing gaze.

He does have a tendency to touch you when you’re with the others as if he’s marking his territory. He’ll casually run his fingers through your hair or caress your back. When you’re paying attention to others, he tends to huff or clear his throat to catch your attention. Childish, but it works nonetheless. His main Rival is Formaggio.

“I was watching you earlier, do you always look that good when you bend over, baby?”

 Melone

This man is a touchy, feely, mf. It’s hard for him to leave you alone when you’ve got that beautiful hair and a body like THAT. He’s not too respectful of boundaries, but if you tell him it’s too much, he’ll back off with a pout. He doesn’t want to ruin his chances after all. The way he talks to you is almost silky smooth. He may not always have things to say that interest you, but boy do you want to listen.

He tries to keep you to himself a lot of the time, taking you by the arm and lightly tugging on you. Convincing you that doing things with him is much more entertaining than the others. He’ll take good care of you. After all, he practically worships you.

“Oh darling, that was a beautiful smile, I hope you smile at me like that someday.”

Ghiacchio

Ghiacchio is frustrated with his feelings for you. It’s not like he asked for this, but it’s not something he wants to go away. He does spend his alone time growling and wondering what the hell he should do about this whole thing. What is he supposed to say to you? It’s not like he’s a good conversationalist in the first place.

He NEVER touches you. He’s almost afraid to. Of you accidentally bump into him or even get too close he’ll turn a bright pink and look away. Though there’s something about that that you find adorable. Somehow…being shy works in his favor.

He doesn’t necessarily compete with the others; he just catches you in your alone time and comes up with something that is genuinely interesting to discuss.  He doesn’t compete with anyone.

“Is he bothering you? I can shut him up if you’d like.”

Prosciutto

Mr.  Suave. He almost always knows exactly what to say. Though there’s a distance he does like to keep, he knows he has to go slow to get what he wants. He pulls you in at just the right pace when he sees the others vying for your attention.  When he passes behind you, he places his hands on your waist just to shock you.

He’s gentle with you, charming. You can’t help but have your interest piqued by him. He has quite good intimidation tactics, he shows others his possession of you without you even knowing it. Behind the scenes, he threatens the others. His only rival is Risotto.

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to hide your face from me, I can tell you’re blushing.”

Risotto

Ominous, he’s still very intimidating despite going after you. He acts relatively the same around you as the others. Of course, he’s you boss, so he can’t be acting like a flirt and complimenting your appearance. He does give you a little touch here and there. Brushes his fingers against yours when handing you something. He often leans in close when he speaks to you, voice deep and gentle. He’s very careful how he speaks to you.

He takes the silent approach sort of like catching you alone and/or assigning you on missions with him rather than speaking to you on front of the others. He thoroughly enjoys all the time he gets to spend with you, as he prefers it rather than watching the others flirt with you.

“Were any of the others bothering you today? You know, you can come to me for anything.”

(I hope you like!! <3 Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!)

#jjba #jojo's bizzare adventure #la squadra #vento eureo #golden wind #risotto nero #prosciutto #illuso #formaggio #ghiaccio #melone

[squadrablog]

ok I've joined the Ghiaccio hype train, could I request a Ghiaccio fic with a reader who doesn't like sudden loud noises and will definitely cry if you yell at them? they're really intimidated by Ghiaccio but they're comfortable with the rest of La Squadra, so he's struggling to be a good team member to someone who's always nervous around him. feel free to make it romantic or platonic, your writing is amazing!! 💕💕

Here you are! With the stuff I ended up focusing on I thought that shoehorning a romance in would feel weird, so I focused more on exploring the beginnings of a platonic friendship with him. Lots of awkward Ghiaccio and miscommunication but it all ends up good. :^)

Ghiaccio & Reader (platonic, gender neutral)

Ao3 Mirror Here.

Word Count: 3921

Warnings: Reader has childhood trauma w/ loud noises, not gone into in depth. Assassination job implied but doesn’t happen in text.

Under cut for length!

The last thing you saw yourself doing with your life was becoming an assassin, but here you were. You were a tough kid, scrappy and resourceful when it came down to it, but only because you had to be to get by. You always thought you’d eventually leave that old life behind. The gunshots echoing into the night from rival mafias squaring off to claim the neighborhood you lived in as their territory. The shouts from the man who took you in when you had nowhere else to go, only to berate you when you failed to pick enough pockets to meet his quotas. The way the older and meaner children would torment you, taunt and deride you, whenever you let your vulnerability show.

And you had, more or less, left those parts of it behind at least. When you joined Passione as a last ditch effort to survive you were given a sense of stability that you had never had before, and after initiation when your stand manifested as something powerful and deadly, it didn’t take too long for you to get placed into La Squadra di Esecuzione, Passione’s team of elite assassins. 

As a stand user working with other stand users you rarely relied on guns to get your work done. You were no longer struggling to get by, and although your new Capo held his team to high standards he made sure you had ample training and was patient with you while you were still getting your footing. All your teammates were surprisingly supportive; even if they were wary of outsiders, when it came to their own family they looked out for each other.

It was a dangerous life, not without its own anxieties, but it was a much quieter life. It was a life in the shadows, with a roof over your head, with work that allowed you to use stealth and silence. Even if you couldn’t exactly say you were thrilled about being an assassin you were at least surrounded by people who genuinely cared about you now, watched over by a man who never raised his voice at you for things outside your control, and most comforting of all: you never needed to use a gun.

Not all loud noises set you off, just the ones that reminded you of the violent instability of your childhood and the cruelty of your guardian and peers. Your new teammates could get pretty noisy and spirited, but the boisterous and jovial nature of their laughter, even from their more intense teasing, was a comforting change of pace. You didn’t doubt your value or the fact they respected you.

Well, mostly. There was one teammate who was a bit harder for you to let your guard down around.

His name was Ghiaccio, and to say he was loud would be an understatement. When you first met him he had been a bit standoffish, but so were Risotto and Prosciutto. You knew it would take some time for everyone to accept you as a real part of the squad, and you were ready to be patient. But as you quietly observed everyone for those first few weeks, getting a feel for their individual personalities and their dynamics with each other, you found yourself very intimidated by Ghiaccio. He was able to pal around with the rest of them, even if he was gruff as a default, but when something upset him it was like a switch had been flipped.

He was critical of his squadmates’ performance out in the field, and he never hesitated to offer his critiques regardless of how little anyone wanted to hear them. He was critical of the way people talked, constantly nitpicking everyone’s pronunciations and word choice. He was critical of the way that chores around the house got done, judging everyone’s efforts by timeliness and thoroughness.

Everyone was able to brush him off most of the time without problem. When they actually valued what he had to say they never seemed to take the mean way he said it personally. They’d had plenty of time to get used to him and sift through the bullshit. They knew when something actually mattered to him and when something was just him blowing off steam for the sake of it. They knew when it was fair to ask him to shut up and when it was best to let him get it out of his system.

You steeled yourself as best as you could in those first few weeks, just telling yourself you needed some time to understand his quirks like the rest of your squad did, but your opinion changed immediately after your first mission with him.

“Is Prosciutto teaching you anything?” he barked out at you after you two finally managed to take out your hit. You flinched and looked away from his intense gaze. You were a bit anxious about being alone with him for the first time, and you wanted to give him your best effort to impress him, but being on so on edge caused you to make some big mistakes.

“Well?” he demanded when you said nothing. You had assumed it was a rhetorical question.

“Y-yes?” you stuttered out.

“Then you’re the one accountable for fucking up today. What the hell was that?” he asked, his question ending in something similar to a snarl.

Something that was different about working with Ghiaccio as opposed to working with the others was that he argued out loud to no one in particular about random topics that pissed him off. At first you thought he was expecting you to talk to him about how nonsensical some phrase was that Formaggio used before the two of you left, and you listened attentively, but he never gave you any room to respond. Eventually you realized he wasn’t really conversing, just yelling to yell. It was very distracting and it only made you fidget and lose focus.

“I… well…” you choked out. “It’s usually quieter… on my missions, since my stand is- well, since my stand is made for stealth and-”

“Me talking prevented you from doing your job correctly?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. You just shrunk even deeper within yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was insinuate your mistake had been his fault. There was no way that wouldn’t provoke his ire.

“N-no! You didn’t do anything wrong! It was me, I’m really sorry! It won’t happen again!” you squeaked out.

“Better not,” he grumbled sarcastically with a huff before turning to walk down the street towards his car. You followed, keeping a good distance behind him, not looking forward to the ride back to the base.

---

That had been weeks ago. While you had been doing a decent job at tolerating Ghiaccio before that mission, afterwards was a different story. You actively avoided him, checking if he was in rooms before entering, excusing yourself when he came into a room you were already in, shutting yourself in your room upstairs when you heard him start up on a rant somewhere on the main floor.

Eventually it was shamelessly (or perhaps shamefully) obvious to just about everyone.

“Dude, what happened on your mission with them?” Formaggio asked in a hushed tone one time after your footsteps had disappeared up the stairs. “They’re terrified of you.”

“How the fuck should I know? They haven’t said anything to me about it,” Ghiaccio shot back.

“Uh, yeah, duh. That’s what I’m saying. They won’t even sit in the same room as you,” Formaggio muttered.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, scrunching up his eyebrows. “But it’s not like they talk much to begin with.”

“Are you kidding?” Illuso interjected, inserting himself into his two teammates’ conversation, much to Ghiaccio’s annoyance. “I can get them to prattle on for hours about themself. They’re a real chatterbox once you get to know them.”

“Illuso, dude, have they told you the story about their mission with Pesci down at the wharf?” Formaggio asked with a big grin.

“Fuck, I almost forgot about that,” Illuso replied with a chuckle. “What about the time where-”

“Hey! Shut up for a second,” Ghiaccio snapped. “We’re all talking about the same person, right?”

Upon being interrupted Illuso narrowed his eyes at Ghiaccio before turning to Formaggio. “It’s obviously because of Ghiaccio’s poorly controlled rage. Have you ever seen the poor thing freeze up over a gunshot before?”

“No, but I can imagine. One time I tried scaring them from behind and it took them ten whole minutes to recover,” Formaggio responded.

“I haven’t done shit to them, what possible reason do they have to be scared of me?” Ghiaccio asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, what happened on that mission?” Formaggio asked again.

“It was pretty standard, I killed the bastard while they assisted. They did fuck up pretty bad, which is typical during training, so I pointed it out for their benefit. Then we left,” Ghiaccio recounted. “Nothing else happened.”

Formaggio raised an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“I don’t know! I think I asked if Prosciutto was doing his job right since they didn’t seem too confident. I asked if there was anything that might have contributed to their lackluster performance, but after thinking it over they said that it was on them.”

“Sounds pretty level headed and analytical of you,” Illuso said, stroking his chin. “Are you sure that’s how you said it?”

“Probably not in so many words, I was probably more casual about it,” Ghiaccio grumbled. “Why does it matter how I said it? What’s important is what I said.”

“Ghiaccio, your brand of casual is a few decibels above what’s average,” Illuso said.

“Not to mention the casual expletives, or the casual sarcasm,” Formaggio added. “Are you sure you didn’t casually tell them to go fuck themself without realizing it?”

“No! I mean, if I was stern with them it was in the context of training!” Ghiaccio insisted.

“Are we being trained right now? Is that why you’re yelling at us?” Illuso asked with a smirk.

“This is just how I talk!” Ghiaccio said, bringing a hand up to his temple. “Ugh, I don’t fucking know! Maybe I yelled at them? I remember being very straightforward. They seemed kind of on edge, but I just assumed that’s how they always are!” He dropped his hand and turned to look at his two teammates. “Are they really not like that on missions with you?”

“Not anymore,” Illuso said with a shrug. “At first a bit, but they’re pretty reliable now.”

“You’ve got to go slow with them. They’re easily set off, but if they know they can count on you they’re able to push through it,” Formaggio said.

“My stand is invincible and I never even let the guy near them. There’s no one better suited for watching someone’s blind spot than me,” Ghiaccio said with his hand splayed out on his chest.

“I mean, like… emotionally,” Formaggio said, scratching the back of his head. “If I was to put myself in their headspace I’d say they probably think you hate them.”

“I don’t hate them,” Ghiaccio spat loudly.

“Good! Now step two is letting them know that,” Illuso said, clapping a hand on Ghiaccio’s back, causing his glasses to slide down his nose.

Ghiaccio grumbled and pushed his glasses back up. He knew that things were weird between the two of you ever since your mission, but it never even crossed his mind it was because of something he said. Is this what Prosciutto felt like training Pesci? But even Pesci had never been avoidant or scared of Prosciutto for all the tough love that he gave him. Pesci looked up to him like an older brother.

If he was really the only one in all of La Squadra that you were uncomfortable around, then he supposed it was on him now to figure out why.

---

The base was pretty quiet today, with a lot of missions landing on Risotto’s desk this week. While you were quite fond of your new teammates you liked having the common area all to yourself on a quiet evening, especially if you were curled up with a novel. When you first started living at the base it felt like a luxury, but even after you had gotten used to the quiet its novelty hadn’t worn off for you.

The sound of a key jingling at the front door had you peeking over your book. When Ghiaccio appeared framed by the living room entrance you held your breath. Hopefully he’d be going upstairs… no, it looked like he was coming into the common area. That’s okay, you could move, so you started standing up, except… he was looking right at you, heading in your direction.

“Sit down,” he said stiffly, and after a beat he added, “Please?”

“Uhh! Okay!” you said, sitting back down and bringing your book right back up to cover your face.

“Can you also, uh. Please. Put the book down?” Ghiaccio said, his voice strained to maintain a monotone and flatten out any inflection. You did as he asked, although you still couldn’t meet his eyes, and he just stared at you awkwardly.

“Uh-”

“Hello,” he said, and it left his mouth at the exact same time your muttered exclamation had. Another awkward pause.

“Hi?” you said, unsure. This wasn’t what you were expecting from your next conversation with the man, for as long as you had postponed it. You thought he’d be demanding to know why you were ignoring him, or getting on your case about being too sensitive to handle his criticism on your last mission. Maybe that was yet to come?

“You are afraid of me,” Ghiaccio stated flatly. Then perhaps he realized he wanted to ask it as a question. “Yes?”

“Oh, no, I’m…” you muttered.

“Of course you are,” he said quickly, cutting you off before you could mumble out an excuse. You got pretty embarrassed by that, but you swallowed and moved your eyes up to gauge his expression. He didn’t look angry, but he looked hyper focused to the point of distress. His lips were pressed together tightly as if he was trying to hold back from speaking again.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For being scared of me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He was being sarcastic again, wasn’t he?

“No, I… I mean… I’m sorry for,” you started, trying to think of something legitimate to actually be sorry about. “For fucking up on the mission.”

“Did fucking up on the mission really bother you that much?” he said. Not only were you stupid for fucking up the mission, but you were also stupid for letting it bother you for so long! What did he want you to say?

“No, I mean…”

But Ghiaccio cut you off with a long loud exhale. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing. I understand that I make you anxious, and I understand that for whatever reason it’s hard for you to talk to me, but I really can’t understand what people say unless they drop all the bullshit.” When you frowned and looked away he tried again. “Not bullshit, fuck, uh. No, not fuck... It’s just that. I need you to say exactly what you mean. I can’t tell what people are thinking unless they make it… easy for me.”

You looked back at him. Whatever he was here to talk about with you, he was trying very hard not to raise his voice. The way he was talking to you was too stilted to be anything but intentional. If he was doing this for your sake, then you would try to meet him halfway. You took a moment to think, to choose what you wanted to say carefully.

“I don’t do well with loud noises. I also… take things very personally. I’ve been worrying that you…” You took another second before committing. “...Hate me.”

He pressed his lips in a thin line again as some noise tried to escape his throat, perhaps an instinctive denial. “What about me makes you think that?”

“Well… you seemed pretty disappointed in me after the mission.”

“I was checking in with you. I wanted to make sure Prosciutto was properly training you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But… but you sounded really angry and sarcastic.”

Ghiaccio closed his eyes and thought about that for a second. “I probably was angry, but not at you. You just fucked up on something so basic that I had to wonder if Prosciutto was actually teaching you anything useful.”

“That’s… not how you said it though,” you said, feeling defensive. “I… I know I did something dumb… but I’ve never messed up with my stand like that before. It was different on that mission.”

“Me talking to myself?” Ghiaccio asked. He had been fixating over what he said to you at the end of that mission for days now, trying to remember all the details. He recalled how you had started with one explanation, but you quickly retracted it.

“You were… so angry the entire mission,” you complained. “Everyone else is quiet on missions with me because my stand is better suited to it.”

“It wasn’t a stealth mission,” Ghiaccio countered. “We were using your stand for something different. I wasn’t even talking to you.”

“I know!” you groaned. “You weren’t trying to distract me, but when things get too loud I…”

“But you took it back. You said it wasn’t me,” Ghiaccio said, leaning forward. His voice had risen just a little, but when he noticed how you reacted to that he tensed up.

“I took it back because I was afraid of upsetting you!” you said, leaning back into the couch as far as you could. “Because when I brought it up… you were mean about it… so I took it back! I thought you were trying to tell me it was my fault, so I took the blame like I thought you wanted!”

“I was… I was asking for clarification! If I did something that caused you to fuck up then I want to know that I did so we can talk about it!” He was clenching his fists to keep his upward inflections from becoming full-blown yelling.

“None of that came across!” you complained. “Like… maybe you technically said those things, but the way you said made it come across completely different!”

“What about you? Now you’re telling me that you meant something completely different from the things you actually said to me!?”

“I-I… but I was obviously upset! I was obviously just trying to appease you!”

“How was it obvious? I thought you were upset because you fucked up! No one likes fucking up!”

“Yeah, no kidding!” You realized at this point that your own voice was starting to rise, which was making Ghiaccio raise his to match yours, and you took a deep breath before speaking calmly again. “I was upset because I was afraid.”

It was quiet again for a little while until Ghiaccio broke the silence.

“Being mean and angry comes really easy to me,” he said, running his fingers through his curls. “Even when I don’t realize it, I still am. Even if I think I’m being reasonable, people misunderstand. I’ve been so used to the others actually being able to take it that I forgot how bad it was.” He scratched at his head a bit. “I also have a hard time telling how loud I actually am until someone points it out.”

You sat there for a moment, soaking that in, before you gave a small amused huff with a half-smile on your face. “I’m not great with loud noises because of what they mean to me. Gunshots remind me of a time when I wasn’t safe… but I can protect myself now, and I have other people who will protect me too. But yelling reminds me of… how I was never good enough for anyone.” You tapped your fingers on the cover of the book on your lap and shrugged.

“I hear from the others that you’re really skilled and reliable on missions,” Ghiaccio said. “I didn’t see that from you when we worked together, but maybe that’s because I was the one who fucked up.”

“But you didn’t...” you started.

“I fucked up by not meeting you where you were at. You’re new. I don’t know you, I don’t know what you’re like. If we had talked beforehand, if I had worked with you, then you probably wouldn’t have made that mistake. I was taking the lead on that mission, it was my job to train you to use your stand in an unfamiliar circumstance. I use missions to get out all the shit that makes me angry, since I don’t need to stay quiet. You don’t work like that. You had no idea what I was yelling for. I never told you how I do things, I just expected you to brush it off like everyone else does.”

You blinked a few times. You had been pretty quick to blame yourself for your own shortcomings, but hearing him say that really recontextualized that entire mission experience.  You might have fucked up, but it was now obvious that he did not hold it against you. “That’s surprisingly self-aware of you.”

He rolled his eyes and set his elbow on the couch’s armrest, plopping his head on his fist. “You don’t know me either. I’m more than a raving heartless bastard. Stuff like this… not understanding why other people think the way they do, or what I’m doing wrong… it really fucks me up. I don’t hate you. You’re a part of my family now and I genuinely want to help you get stronger. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Ghiaccio was nothing like you thought. He was actually really sensitive and introspective. You could tell it was hard for him to confront you like this, almost as hard as it was for you to be confronted. You appreciated that he wanted to put in the effort to have a relationship with you.

“Thank you Ghiaccio. And I’m sorry I avoided you instead of trying to talk about it like this.” You reached over and placed your hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile. He seemed taken aback by the contact, but he relaxed after a moment.

“Are we… good?” he huffed out.

“I think so!”

He let out one long exhale that seemed to go on forever. “Thank fuck,” he muttered, before turning to look at you. “Goddamn it, sorry.”

“It’s not the swearing that bothers me,” you clarified. “It’s the intention behind it. You’re… uh… fucking good, my dude.”

He let out a snort at the awkward way you said that before bringing his hand up to cover his face, looking away in embarrassment.

“Aw, no, that was cute,” you assured him, which only made it worse.

“Well, if we’re done here then I’m heading to bed,” he said, and you glanced at the clock in the living room. It had gotten pretty late. He stood up and started walking towards the stairs.

“We have a mission together again this weekend, right?” you asked, and he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you said with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. And you meant it. “Goodnight!”

“...Night,” he said, before he disappeared around the corner.

#ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #jojo imagines #jjba scenarios #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #my writing #anon

[self-shipyard]

"I Will (Pt. 3): The Arrival" - A Self-Ship Wedding Fic

SYNOPSIS: The third part of a four-part fic in which everyone gathers in the chapel and prepares for the big moment.

Word Count: 1813

CW: Pre-Wedding Fluff, Mild In-Character Swearing, Anxiety

Tag List: : @guthound, @danieladimitrescu, @puppyships, @ava-ships, @awesomedanganronpaconfessions, @sinners-call-me-baby, @reigenhusband, @that-autistic-team-skull-grunt, @noellojello, @somethingscarlet13, @spookymasonjar, @vanityloves, @valor-selfships

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

The little church rested against the grassy Tuscania countryside. It was a rustic little building, made of old bricks and holding a wooden crucifix over the roof. Its staircase had a white satin stair runner over top and the sides were adorned with wildflowers and lit candles, despite the sun being high in the blue sky. There was even an arch of greenery which framed the church’s big wooden door.

It set the theme for a beautiful August wedding.

Lumaca could just barely see it from the car window and through her veil. The sight of it made her heart race. She might’ve even fainted, had not a hand reached over to touch her shoulder and to bring her back down.

Her eyes darted from the window to Sorbet.

“Are you okay?” Sorbet asked.

“Yeah, are you?” Gelato piped up from his place next to Sorbet, his hand reaching around to pat her lap. “You’re looking a little pale. Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Lumaca softly replied. “It’s just my nerves...”

“Hey,” Formaggio said from the passenger’s seat. “If it makes you feel any better, just thought I’d let you know that I attended a bee wedding about a week ago.”

“Oh, is that so?” Gelato responded for her.

“Yup!” he continued. “It was nice to know that he found his honey.”

Formaggio and Gelato both laughed at the corny joke and Lumaca simply smiled, taking joy from their laughter. However, Prosciutto, who had been driving for the past fifteen minutes with a bouquet of white roses in his lap, couldn’t do likewise.

“Come on,” he muttered. “That was bad.”

“Hey now,” Formaggio defended himself. “Those two are digging it. Besides, when you got charms like mine, you don’t have to be that good with the words. It’s all about how you deliver it, you know?”

“Hey, look!” Gelato suddenly piped up with his finger pointed towards the window. “There’s Pesci. How long has the boy been waiting out there for?”

“I hope not for long,” Lumaca commented, a pang of guilt in her voice.

“Ah don’t worry about him, my dear.” Gelato patted her lap. “He’s always been so patient.”

After parking the car near the side of the chapel, where other vehicles sat in the afternoon sun, Prosciutto took hold of the bouquet and went to help Lumaca out of the car. Everyone else was quick to follow the pair, with Sorbet and Gelato close behind and Formaggio at the end of the little procession.

Pesci looked up from his seat on the stairs and his eyes lit up the minute he saw them approaching him. He jumped up and rushed to meet them, leaving his basket on the step. Lumaca would’ve met him halfway, if not for the fact that her arm was linked to Prosciutto’s. So instead, she reached her free hand out to grab hold of his.

“Lumaca!” he beamed, holding her hand in both of his. “I knew you’d be here on time! I was starting to get a little worried.”

“Pesci, you mammone,” Prosciutto grunted before Lumaca could say anything. “You shouldn’t have been worried. I wouldn’t have let her miss her own wedding day, would I?”

“Ah.” Pesci looked down. “Sorry, aniki.”

Lumaca watched as Pesci’s nerves dimmed his excitement. Feeling sorry for him, she shook his hands to grab his attention.

“It’s okay, Pesci!” she assured him. “I appreciate how much you care.”

He gave her a soft smile as some of the light returned to his face.

“Thank you Lumaca... You look really beautiful, by the way. You’re going to make everyone’s jaw drop.”

“You think so?” she blushed.

“I know so!” His grip on her hand went a little tighter. “Especially Ghiaccio’s jaw. Oh, he’s going to be so happy to see you!”

“Well, I hope he doesn’t mind seeing a couple extra pretty faces come down the aisle first,” Formaggio piped up with a grin, already walking ahead of the group to the chapel doors. “At any rate, we better go take our places, right Gelato?”

“Right behind you,” Gelato replied, practically skipping along behind him.

…

The chapel was as small on the inside as it was on the outside. It was lit by the afternoon sunlight pouring in through the windows, giving everything a gentle glow to it. Much like the staircase, the sides of the mahogany pews that faced the altar had also been decorated with wildflowers.

Attendees sitting in the pews consisted of a small crowd of people, including other members of their team and some friends of the bride. All of their voices resonated throughout the room, mingling softly with conversations from amongst themselves and even from the groomsmen.

The groom, however, was silent.

Ghiaccio had taken to thinking of Lumaca as a way to keep himself distracted from the nerves that drenched his forehead in sweat.

Memories flooded his head, giving his chest a warm, tingling feeling. He remembered everything, from the day they met and their first mission to their first date and their first kiss. The day they decided to move in together and those happy little moments between then and the evening he proposed.

That look in her eyes as she agreed to give him her hand in marriage… So sweet…

Thump!

Ghiaccio was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of the wooden doors opening. His head jolted up and his eyes went wide behind his glasses. The room fell silent and everyone turned their heads to look at the big wooden doors.

The bridesmen walked in.

Formaggio strolled down between the pews, a serious look clouding his eyes as he focused on the task at hand. Gelato followed behind, regarding everyone he passed with the same curiosity of a cat. They quietly took their places at the bride’s side of the altar, approximately in the same sort of placement the groomsmen had taken.

Ghiaccio’s hand went up to feel his heart rate. It went down, but not by much.

“Fuck…” he muttered to himself whilst pushing his glasses closer to his face

“Ghiaccio,” a voice whispered behind him.

He turned around to see Melone, who had just reached out with his free hand to give him a pat on the back. His other hand held a small pillow, upon which rested a small, silver ring with a sapphire embedded into it.

Lumaca’s ring.

“Remember, we’re here to make sure everything’s alright,” he continued. “Try to relax, okay?”

Ghiaccio gave a quiet hum in response before turning back to resume his thoughts. Only, he found it was getting harder to concentrate, as the thought of her walking in and down the aisle towards him clouded his mind.

That thought made him gently whimper to himself.

…

“You have what I need?” Sorbet asked, his eyes focusing on Pesci and his hands carefully adjusting Lumaca’s veil.

“Oh, of course! Hang on a second,” Pesci assured as he made his way back to the chapel’s staircase.

He took hold of his basket and gently fished his hands through the rose petals. As soon as he felt the two items that Sorbet needed graze his fingertips, his face lit up. Carefully, he pulled out a small pillow and an even smaller sack from the pile of petals.

“You didn’t have anything else to carry those things in?” Prosciutto inquired as he made adjustments to the bride’s bouquet in his hands.

Pesci met his furrowed look with a sheepish grin.

He stood straight up and walked back to the three remaining members of the bride team, bringing the pillow and the sack with him.

“Not really, no,” he gulped. “I uhm… Had to make do with what I had.”

Sorbet held out his hand and Pesci placed the pillow overtop before prying open the sack with his fingers. Within a few seconds, he had a silver ring with a small ruby embedded into it placed on top of the pillow.

Ghiaccio’s ring.

“Hmm,” Prosciutto sighed. “I suppose you didn’t have much of a choice then. I’m proud of you for making do with that you had… All I ask is that you be careful of the petals next time. We don’t need them to be crushed.”

“Okay, aniki; I’ll remember that!” Pesci smiled, too polite to tell him that Melone had already said something similar.

“Thank you so much, Pesci,” Lumaca muttered happily, the sight of the piece of silver and the thought of it on her husband-to-be’s left hand making her giddy. “In fact, thank you guys for your help.”

“We appreciate the thought,” Sorbet told her. “But don’t thank us just yet. Save it for the reception.”

Just then, the pastor poked his head out from between the doors and called for Sorbet to come inside. After giving him a nod and watching him slip back inside, he strutted towards the big wooden doors with the pillow balanced in his palm. He glanced towards Lumaca and gave her a nod that she gladly returned. With that, he pushed the doors open with his free hand and made his way inside.

As soon as the doors closed with a low thump!, Pesci looked towards Prosciutto.

“Aniki,” he asked. “Am I supposed to follow behind him with the flower petals right now?”

“Give him a couple of minutes first,” Prosciutto instructed him. “You’re going to be ahead of us by about a minute so you can scatter the petals around, then you’ll take your place on the groom’s side of the altar.”

“Okay, I can do that…” Pesci hummed as a thought crossed his mind. “You sure do know a lot about being a flower boy, huh?”

“I had to be one for our mother’s wedding,” Prosciutto admitted. “This was before you were born, of course, but I remember it well.”

“It must’ve been lovely,” Lumaca smiled warmly.

Prosciutto smiled back at her.

“It was,” he started to reminisce. “It had been the happiest I had seen her in a long time. A type of joy I can see all around you, in fact.”

She blushed quietly.

“Ah, it’s… It’s that noticeable?”

“It is.” Prosciutto agreed. “And it’s a good sign. It means that this is the start of a long, happy marriage.”

She bit her lip, trying her best not to start sobbing right then and there.

“Thank you…”

The brothers wrapped their arms around her in a group hug. She immediately had her arms around them as well.

“You two will go far,” Prosciutto whispered. “I know you will.”

After spending a long, quiet moment in the embrace, the trio pulled themselves away from each other and Pesci made his way towards the chapel stairs.

He took hold of the handle of his basket.

“I’ll see you both soon!” Pesci beamed at the pair before disappearing behind the doors.

(to be continued at 2:00 PM EST)

#❄soft snow (lumaghia)❄ #❄soft snow wedding❄ #self ship #self shipping #self shipping content #self shipping community #self ship wedding #⛵sal's writing #sorlaca (friend tag) #lumapros (familial tag) #formaca (friend tag) #pesluma (friend tag)

[jotarosbelt]

La Squadra Kink Headcanons!

to that one comment thread on wattpad talking about la squadra’s kinks on my christmas fic,

this is for y’all.

p.s. there’s no sorbet & gelato :// sorry, i don’t know enough about them to write for them confidently

18+ content ahead!

Risotto Nero

Honestly, I feel like Risotto is a fairly simple guy. But, if you were trying to experiment, he’d definitely be down. He’s a softy at heart— he just wants to make you feel good although what he’s into may not be for you. 😗 He’s okay with that, though! He drinks Respect Women (and Men) Juice.

Kinks include:

Size: We all know Risotto is a big guy in more ways than one. Standing at 6’9”, he can’t help but love the sight of his significantly smaller partner (‘cause let’s be real, you could be 6’0” and still be considered tiny compared to him) struggling to fit his cock inside of themselves. It’s mesmerizing.

Blood Play: Kind of close knit with his stand. He uses the iron found in one’s body to create metal objects ranging from scissors to razor blades (although he wouldn’t do this to you), so it’s only natural he has a fixation with blood.

Knife Play: This is also tied closely to the nature of his stand. He can create weapons, so why not use them? He’d never want to hurt you (at least too badly— especially not if you didn’t want it), so he’d use his gift to bring you pleasure instead.

Sensory Deprivation: Risotto likes the idea of one’s senses being enhanced when one is taken away. Blindfolding you while running the smooth, blunt edge of a blade lightly down your soft skin is a dream of his.

Orgasm Control: Risotto is a very good capo. With his natural leadership skills and the ability to rule over any situation with an iron fist, he can’t help but bring that to the bedroom. You‘ll cum when he says, got it? Good.

Melone

I truly believe Melone is the wild card of the group— he’s really down for ANYTHING. However, here are a few honorable mentions.

Kinks include:

Breeding/Impregnation: The nature of his stand is literally to create “offspring” and track down his targets. Melone is a FREAK, and you’d be VERY wrong to think that he doesn’t get off to filling you to the brim more times than you can count and then having you to walk around with his seed inside you to up the risk of it all.

Hair-Pulling: With hair as nice as Melone’s, I can really see him being into the idea of it getting tugged and pulled while he went down on you, or fucked into you. He likes pulling his partner’s hair, too, but just a bit more on himself.

Exhibitionism: I totally see Melone being a greedy little bastard, seeking his s/o’s attention using unscrupulous means. He’s all for it if his partner pulls this act on him, instead. If you want something, don’t beat around the bush, okay? Melone’s very good at telling his s/o what they want to hear.

Voyeurism: Melone is TOTALLY into the idea of someone watching him fuck his partner or vice versa. He likes watching himself, to be honest. He’s shameless and unabashed. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Bondage: I really do see Melone being really skilled at tying intricate knots and such just to tie up his partner in the bedroom. Bonus points if you can do the same. My man loves himself a good ol’ hogtie every once and a while.

Ghiaccio

Ah, the feral goblin. We all know Ghiaccio is angry— he’s stressed. He also likes control. So, he tends to channel his frustration into sex. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Kinks include:

Dirty Talk: God DAMN, Ghiaccio is such a good dirty talker. He has no filter and says what he’s thinking— even if it’s a bit crude at times. He’s straightforward and doesn’t cut corners, and he’s a man of his word (which makes it all the better). He will do exactly what he says he’ll do to you. Promise.

Angry/Hate Sex: This should be pretty self-explanatory. He’s angry, pent up, and he needs and outlet for his frustration. Good thing he has you, because he can just pound it out into you while muttering all sorts of filthy things into your ear to blow off steam. Even better if you two despise each other, despite all the sexual tension that lingers in the air between you two. Guarantee you won’t be able to walk for days afterwards or wipe that smug look off of his face while seeing you struggle— friend or foe.

Humiliation: Oh ho ho ho, nothing gets him off more than seeing your red and embarrassed face when he happens to say a little too much in front of the team. Oh? You didn’t want him to talk about how you were begging for his cock last night? Oops, too late. And besides, they probably already knew. Should’ve kept it down. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Pet Play: This is all about control here. Putting a collar around your neck, ordering you around— maybe pulling you by a leash— he lives for it. His obedient, little kitten (he’s a cat person). Though it may be hard, it’s possible you can convince him to be your pet for a day instead. Don’t expect it to become a common occurrence, though. His pride won’t stand for it.

Impact Play: Another kink that’s control based. Misbehave or frustrate him? Don’t be surprised to find yourself bent over his lap and receiving a couple smacks to your ass as punishment.

Formaggio

Cheese man Formaggio is spontaneous. In my eyes, he likes living life on edge and to the fullest, to be honest. He’s also kind of down for anything as long as it’s in his comfort area (which is pretty large).

Kinks include:

(Semi-)Public Sex: Like I stated in my ahegao headcanons, this man would not hesitate to fuck you on the hood of his car in some abandoned part of town. He likes the risk, and you can bet your ass he wouldn’t stop even if he got caught. Unless it was by the feds.

Barebacking: PLEASE DON’T DO THIS, LOL. Formaggio is honestly the type who SWEARS it feels better without a condom, but he’s cautious. He’s clean and he’ll only do this or ask for it if his partner is clean, too (preferably on birth control or something, too). Safe sex, kids.

Edging: It’s like a guilty pleasure of his. The power he has— to be able to bring you to the brink of an orgasm and then pull away to kiss or squeeze the skin of your thighs, just to continue it in a seemingly endless cycle. It’s beautiful.

Face-Sitting/Queening: Though he might not say it outright, Formaggio has a thing for getting pushed around by his s/o. Push him down and straddle his face— he’s GONE. If he’s feeling a bit restless, he might grab your thighs and make you do it instead. Who knows? It depends on how he’s feeling.

Stockings: Formaggio will DIE if his s/o wears stocking in the bedroom. I firmly believe he has a thing for legs, and the quickest way to rile him up is with some shorts/panties and some high socks/stockings.

Illuso

I’m gonna be honest, chief. Illuso is probably the most vanilla and calm of all of the La Squadra members. Though he may be unpleasant at times (especially while on duty,) I think he’d totally whipped for his s/o.

Kinks include:

Mirror Sex: His stand is literally called Man in the Mirror, for fuck sake. But, being able to watch himself pleasure you or get pleasured really gets him off.

Food Play: I honestly feel like Illuso would come into the bedroom one day with a bowl of strawberries and a can of whipped cream. He’s game if you are. Messy? Sure. Hot and romantic? Totally. He’s a softy, and he’d kill to lick some whipped cream off your body any day of the week.

Somnophilia: I couldn’t tell you why, but I think Illuso would love pleasuring you while you slept. I’m talking “waking you up with head then fucking all day” type shit. All consensual of course, he wouldn’t touch you unless you gave him your blessing. He’s good like that.

Body-Painting: I really need to do some random La Squadra headcanons at some point, but I think Illuso is a painter/likes painting. So, if you’re willing to let him paint on you, whether it be with food or actual paint, and have a good time, he’s more than game.

Dry Humping: Illuso likes the desperation and sense of urgency dry humping gives. In his eyes, nothing’s more perfect that two people in love wanting each other that badly.

Prosciutto

ham daddy

Prosci likes being in control. He likes being in charge and telling his s/o what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. My man is busy, stressed, and a control freak.

Kinks include:

Daddy: I feel like this is obvious. Prosciutto likes being in a position of authority and likes to be seen as such, so what better way to channel than then by calling him daddy? He deserves and commands respect, and he will get it.

Cockwarming: Prosci is a busy guy. He’s serious, stressed, and has responsibilities. A way he deals with stress and pent up frustration is, well, through sex! Sit on his lap with his cock inside you like a good girl (or boy) and he’ll be sure to reward you when he’s done with all his work. Misbehave? Get punished, what can I say?

Dirty Talk: Prosci has a filthy mouth in the bedroom. His vocabulary ranges from him calling you filthy names such as troia and puttana, to whispering in your ear exactly what he’s going to do to you and how as you squirm in his grasp.

Breath Play: Prosciutto, in my opinion, has a bit of a god complex and this plays into that perfectly. His large hand wrapped around your throat as he strains your breathing, your moans becoming wry and raspy. It’s music to his ears.

Impact Play: This is probably Prosciutto’s favorite way of establishing dominance over his partner if they’ve misbehaved. Have you defied him? Once he’s done with what he’s doing, he will have you bent over in his lap as he makes you count out loud how many times he’s smacked your ass by now.

Pesci

I fully headcanon Pesci as a sub/bottom. You’re gonna have to at least be a switch or a full top/dom to be with this boy. He CANNOT fuck you into the mattress without some insane levels of encouragement.

Kinks include:

Masochism: Pesci is a sucker for pain, honestly. Manhandle him, pull his hair, slap him— whatever the fuck you want, really. There’s a safe word for a reason.

Overstimulation: This one is definitely on the receiving end. He may seem soft, but he’s into the kinkiest shit. Stroke him into oblivion, attach a vibrator to his cock— something, just as along as you don’t stop after one orgasm.

Face-Sitting/Queening: 100% related to the sub aspect. Sit on his face, ride it, make him pleasure you— he’s yours to order around, so please use him as you see fit.

Praise: Also 100% related to the sub aspect. He wants to be told he’s a good boy and that he’s doing a good job. It gives him butterflies when he knows he’s making you feel good.

Strap-On: Now, this is related to the bottom aspect of his personality. As much as he likes having you ride him, he likes getting fucked just as much as you. Be gentle though, okay?

#jjba #writing #jojo’s bizarre adventure #la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #risotto nero #prosciutto jojo #ghiaccio jojo #melone jojo #illuso jojo #pesci jojo #formaggio jojo #not sfw #headcanons

[buccigang-headcanons]

La Squadra Backstories!!!! Stream of consciousnesss style!

So literally I just sat down and wrote down exactly what I thought. I have not edited these at all lmaooo. But I made long drawn out backstories for our underrated assassins so enjoy!!

T/W + C/W - idk I talk about people dying in a lot of ways. Child abuse, drugs, severe illness, dead cats. This stuff is a mess I really didn’t censor it. But nothing is described in detail cuz I’m too lazy for that.

————

Prosciutto cuz he’s at the top of my mind. Mmkay he and Pesci are brothers but not by blood. Pro was an orphan, I still wanna make him Russian, and pesci’s extremely kind and gentle family adopted him when he was like 7. They were like literally a garden catalogue family. Perfection. The parents died when pro was like 15, Pesci was 13?? Idk the age difference I’m just making shit up now. And Pesci had no fucking idea what to do, they didn’t have any other family, and pro was like “I’m still basically a hardened criminal from living on the streets of russia most of my childhood, so joining the local mafia should be a piece of cake”. It was.

Risotto..... fuck it. Polpo is risottos dad. I’ve seen that so much and fuck it I’m here for it now. Idk how I feel about the whole Mariah from part 3 being his mom that seems too coincidental. But either way, he is half Spanish. I don’t think he’s ever been in touch with his Spanish roots at all, but that’s what he is. Polpo had too much fun on vacay in Spain. But it was a once night stand and polpo, a skinny king back in the mid 70s, fucked off to do mafia stuff and didn’t know about this kid. Risotto never knew his father. Time goes by, about the time he’s 10, rizzo’s mom moves to Italy to find the man she once loved. Since the 70s, she has been married and divorced 4 times, disowned by her entire family, and she speaks only of Polpo, the man who swept her off her feet and then disappeared into the night. Leaving only this child with his matching eyes. So they live in Italy, risotto is about 13 now and his mom has been searching seriously for polpo for about 3 years. One day, she gets too close, mafia takes her out. Risotto is all alone in a country he has lived in for less than 3 years. So he decides to take revenge against the mafia. He goes to hunt them down. (I’m too lazy to write out how. Gets a gun. Basically the scene in part 5 where the kid is like “you killed my father and now I’m gonna kill you!!” But he chickens out???) yeah except rizzo didn’t chicken out, he stood firm and killed 2 of them. The other 2 surrendered, and immediately asked rizzo to take polpos test. He did. And he unknowingly met his father, the man his mother had died looking for. He stared into his fathers eyes, black sclera reflecting each other, and passed his test with ease.

Wowwwwwwwww alrighty then that was something. Let’s shake out those jitters because fuck that was intense and let’s move onto some happy shit.

Melone!! Always a bottle of joy. He was a phenomenal student, a perfect child. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, perfect looks. Onlyyyy tiny thing is he murdered cats and buried their heads in the back yard. But that was his only flaw. Aaaaaaaand mayyybe trying to use his extensive knowledge of molecular biology and genetics (even at as young as 11) to asexually breed said cats.

But, apart from that, absolutely perfect specimen of a young boy. And he kept that up until college. Until the rape accusation. Melone had no interest in having sex with her, he swore under oath in open court, he only wanted to “extract her essence” in the hopes of making her amazing genetics stay pure for centuries.

Due to his previously amazing school record, he was allowed to plead not guilty by reason of insanity (because the justice system is bullshit) and was released to his parents. During this whole process, Melone’s mother had begun to grow suspicious of her son, wondering if there was something wrong with him. This led her to explore the crawl space under the garage, more commonly known as “Melone’s childhood laboratory”. The cat skulls alone were enough to set her off. They allowed him into their home long enough to fool the court, but parole officers don’t pay attention, and they kicked him to the curb a month later. Broke, alone, and with no real skills other than his genius mind and gorgeous body, he became a prostitute. It was only a few months before he wandered up to a gigantic white haired man with angry eyes and asked if he wanted a date. Instead of declining, our good ol rizzo just knocked him out cold and brought him home. The rest is history. Literally because I can’t think of what would happen between that and Melone joining the mafia. I assume he was just their house pet for a little while before he decided he wanted a stand too.

Oh good lord these are getting insane. Better keep going. Okay I have no idea what’s about to come out of my head for ghia but oh Lordy. Might as well start. Ghiaccio wasn’t always quite as angry, but it’s actually gonna be a sweet story. Kinda. He used to act perfect, even tho he always felt the anger inside. He was forced to bottle it up and put on a happy exterior always. His mother was Belgian. (From experience, Belgian mothers (Flemish in particular) will beat you until your ass is raw if you talk back). Italian father, they lived in italy. He had 4 sisters, he was the middle child of 5. Around high school, he started acting out. Of course this was due to all of his bottled up anger from the past 15 years. 4 shattered sinks, 16 holes in the drywall, and one classroom fire later, Ghiaccio was expelled from school. His parents were too busy brimming with joy about the success of all his sisters that they didn’t take much notice to him. “If you’re going to behave in such a manner you might as well leave” his mother said. She was past the point of caring enough to beat him. So he left. 16 and with no where to go, he wandered the streets. After a year or so, Ghia had gotten used to that life, and was angry at everyone, sometimes when he wasn’t even angry. Anger had become his coping mechanism. Screaming was easier than talking. Until one day, he screamed at a blonde man in an intersection. Prosciutto was driving back to the squads hang out, boxes of takeout in the back seat of the car. He had chosen to not stop at the red light, just for fun, and nearly ran into our blue haired teenager. Ghia proceeded to cuss him out for a good 4 minutes in the middle of this intersection before pro cut him off. “Get in the back. “ he said, with his own special brand of brotherly love. “I know how you can put that anger to good use”. Ghiaccio, having no real reason to object, got in the back seat. Prosciutto was silent the rest of the drive and Ghiaccio yelled about all the take out food, now splattered on the backs of the seats due to the sudden slam on the brakes.

Y’all I don’t even remember the other la squadra members. Let’s do sorbet/gelato because they have zero backstory or personality so I can just ramble. *Clears throat* let’s begin. These fuckers. Friends since birth. Grew up together, always really close. They were both dirt poor, but because the only school nearby was a decent public school, when were able to slightly experience middle class living. They liked it. They wanted to see upper class, and once they did, they wanted to be there. These two were money grubbing bffs, I’m talking josuke and okuyasu, but like waaaaay more intense and also violent. They both left home around 14, together of course. Gelatos father had left them a few years prior, and his family were on the brink of starvation. Figuring they didn’t need another mouth to feed (and completely abandoning his post as family patriarch lol) he left with sorbet, who’s family had all died in various ways over the years. Most recently, his older sister being taken by some illness that was probably easily treatable, but with no means for a doctor, she died in days. The boys left home and school, and made a living by pickpocketing tourists and occasionally launching into larger heists. They made a decent living for themselves, but eventually started spending their money on drugs. It’s was sorbet first, heroin was really good to him for awhile. Gelato was against it, knowing it was the reason sorbets family had been so poor to begin with. His father was an addict, and despite holding down a job fairly well, spent all his earnings on drugs. Eventually he became too dependent, lost his job, and OD’d. But around this same time, when the boys were 16/17, they were starting to realize their feelings for each other. Confused teenaged minds full of budding love led to Gelato giving in, and soon their days were filled with heroin fueled ecstatic sex. They lived like this for awhile, existing in half reality, until one day they chose to set their pickpocketing targets on a short man with close cropped gray hair. The plan was perfect, sorbet bumped into the man and gelato passed by to grab his wallet, and suddenly they were the size of mere ants. In an instant, they were returned to size, left to wonder if it was real or just a hallucination from long term drug use. But they didn’t run. Formaggio introduced himself, with a loose handshake and a pause to spit out some tobacco, and promptly invited them to a “party”. Although, Formaggio was honest in his promise, this party did have drugs.

Cheese boys turn!! Seriously who am I forgetting??? Illuso my mirror man! Am I forgetting someone else too?? Idk. But shut up Kel it’s cheese boys turn.

So. Formaggio. Probably the most chill childhood. Lower middle class, pretty average, but he was quite gifted with sports. Soccer was his main, and also a fantastic competitive swimmer. (Okay I have a separate hc that Bruno is really good at soccer so hol horse up a moment so I can imagine those 2 playing soccer together in friendly competition. In my lil au where Bruno is in la squadra because I say BruPro exes rights please and thanks.) but anyway, he got really good at soccer and was offered a scholarship to play at a fancy pants private high school when he was 14. Of course his parents made him go, this has been the family’s dream for years, and formaggio’s as well. So high school is amazing, he’s starting to attract attention from universities even tho he’s barely in grade 11 by this point. And it’s all really amazing until he realizes. This isn’t what he wants. And it’s just that. He doesn’t want to play soccer anymore, he doesn’t want to potentially be famous. He just wants to be a kid. So he leaves school, he leaves home, he wants to start over. And he wanders into a diner and sees this small group of weirdly dressed men. At this point, it’s rizzo, pro, Pesci, and ghia. And he’s staring at them because they’re dressed like circus clowns but their aura is so murderous. And then the one who looks like a giant pineapple starts staring back. Pesci gets up and walks over to Formaggio. “I know you! You’re that amazing kid soccer player!!” And he just goes on and on about shit he read in the news (70% of it was false) until pro comes over and yanks his idiot brother away. Pro starts asking Formaggio questions, thinking he could be a good target. Stupid little rich kid. But to prosciuttos surpise, Formaggio is just a down to earth kid with no more money to his name than he needs to pay for this meal. Prosciutto takes him home after that. He doesn’t really offer any explanation.

(The rambling at the beginning of this paragraph actually happened lol so I paused for like 4 hrs oops)

Alright we are back. Had to leave to go to therapy and then scream at my mother and cry to my boyfriend but we are ready to go! Illuso and I really hope he’s the last one and I’m not forgetting one. Illuso was raised in an orphanage from infancy. No idea who his parents could even be. Fun fact: one of the nuns at the orphanage (cuz it’s an orphanage in Italy in 1980, they’re catholic.) nicknamed him Illuso because he was always pointing at things that weren’t there. As a tiny baby and a child, he would always be looking at things no one else can see (yes illuso is a natural stand user fight me). The nuns called him illuso as an insult, hoping to shame him into stopping. He never did. When he outgrew the orphanage, he decided to join the priesthood. He was 19, a priest in training, when the mafia came to the orphanage. They were collecting, and illuso knew they didn’t have the money this month. He tried to talk the mobsters down, but that went about as well as planned. 4 bullets to the chest, 3 open heart surgeries, and half a dozen resuscitations later, Illuso was released from the hospital. The orphanage had been shut down, and no one knew what had happened to the children or the nuns. With no where to go, illuso knew of one place that could use talents like his. The talents of steadily stealing money from the starving children of the church for a decade. It was during polpos test that illuso’s stand manifested. Not due to the arrow, but to protect its user from the other stand. Illuso was able to avoid Black Sabbath by hiding in his newfound mirror world until it was time to return the lighter to polpo (kinda cowardly but whatever.) he was assigned to risottos group by chance and was the last to join excluding Melone. But they loved him as if they had found him themselves.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #la squadra #Melone #ghiaccio #Formaggio #illuso #sorbet #gelato #risotto Nero #prosciutto #Pesci #jojo part 5 #jjba

[tenthgrove]

L’Inizio- A La Squadra Backstory Collection

Chapter 2: Dove La Mia Passione Mi Porta (Prosciutto)

Word count: ~3300

Warnings: parental illness, parental death, parental rejection, implied transphobia, drinking

Don Crepuscolo flicks idly through the corner of a book as he sits in his study. His mind filters out the occasional clatter of footsteps on the upper floor of his Neapolitan mansion- the maid, most likely, as well as the visiting capos he permitted a tour of the bedrooms, to get them out of his face for a while until the meeting scheduled later in the afternoon.

The middle-aged don jolts at the sight of the young man in his doorway, having approached the office quiet as a snake with no disturbance to the man’s wavering focus. Crepuscolo collects himself, joyed with recognition of the figure come to see him.

“Maiale! Daughter!” Crepuscolo greets. He opens his arms and beckons the young man to embrace him. Hands folded, he approaches quietly, and seats himself a distance opposite the desk.

“Hello, father,” Prosciutto speaks apathetically.

“Maiale, my dear, hello! I believe this is the first chance you’ve given me to congratulate you on the excellent results you’ve achieved on your examinations. Truly, I knew in my heart you’d do me proud,” the don praises. Prosciutto glances out the window.

“Yes, a pity your mouth did not agree with you until now,” he utters.

“No matter, no matter! What truly pleases me with your visit is that, well, you’ve simply been away on your- little celebrations so much this last month I’ve barely had any chance to see you! I really must know, what are your arrangements for your future now the necessary grades have been secured?”

Prosciutto takes a deep breath. He pushes a little dirt from under his nails and, after a few more moments, speaks. “As you know, it has always been my intention to go onto university.”

“Yes, yes, you had your eye on a place in Milan, last I checked.”

“No, Florence,” Prosciutto refutes him. “But anyway, I simply intend to go where my passion takes me.” Crepuscolo leans forward. He smiles.

“Practical and so assured, yet with a distinct streak for adaptability and the eclectic. Some things never change, do they Maiale?”

“No father, perhaps not.”

“Clearly. Now be a good girl and answer the question I asked you,” the don demands, gritting his teeth. Staring blankly, Prosciutto uncrosses his legs.

“Well father, the first thing I’m going to do is disown you,” he announces. Crepuscolo stutters in shock. “Disown?! But Maiale! How would you even do such a ludicrous thing?!”

“The normal way,” Prosciutto responds calmly. “I’ve been able to track down a lawyer. The same one who handled Mother’s will, incidentally, and begin the process of removing you as my next of kin and transferring it over to Signora Loreta. I have relinquished you of all obligations to me, and mine to you.”

“Have I taught you nothing, girl?” Crepuscolo snaps. “I am your father. I allowed you to live in this wonderful house, and paid for your tutoring and clothes, and let you live in luxury while half the children in this city wallow in the streets. You will never be free of obligation to me!”

“And as you were doing all that, you also threw your one year old son out into those streets the children wallow in!” Prosciutto retorts, his voice finally beginning to raise. “It is only right you should receive the same level of regard from your children, Don Crepuscolo.”

“But I always treated you well, Maiale!” the father insists. Prosciutto clenches his fists, and scowls.

“You left me alone at my dying mother’s bedside, while you were off in The Caribbean, with a girl half your age! If that doesn’t free me of any and all moral obligation to you, THEN WHAT DOES?!” he shouts. Don Crepuscolo goes quiet, then grips his desk in anger. Prosciutto gives his father a curt nod, and stands up, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. He turns his back on his father.

“You will have no penny of my wealth!” the don yells. Prosciutto turns around. The corner of his mouth flickers into a brief smirk.

“Nor would I ever ask for it. Mother’s lawyer and I had other discussions, regarding the specific terms of her inheritance. As he advised me, the criteria laid out for taking charge of her fortune myself could be fulfilled as simply as presenting my graduation certificate to the relevant parties. Since the clauses regarding my personal, direct inheritance were filed under a separate executer to the rest of her testament, you father, have no role in their fulfilment. My request to the bank is being processed as we speak,” Prosciutto explains. “So, I will make my position very clear. You are a sinking ship, and I do not need, nor intend, to be around when the engine blows. Goodbye, Don Crepuscolo!”

Prosciutto makes his way to the door. As he reaches for the latch, Don Crepuscolo smashes down on his desk.

“MAIALE!”

“Do NOT call me that!” Prosciutto screams. His body goes still, eyes wide. He gathers himself and storms out, grabbing the last of his bags outside the door and sprinting for the mansion’s back exit.

::::::::::::

Prosciutto steps off of the bus and strolls along the concrete pavement, towards the little white cottage at the end of the road. Setting his suitcase down on the porch, he knocks quietly on the door. He receives no response.

“Loreta!” he calls. “Signora? It’s only me! May I come in please?” An eager patter of footsteps approaches him. The door swings open.

“Prosciutto!” The woman greets eagerly. She is younger than she perhaps ought to be, not even a decade older than Prosciutto and with an appearance of perhaps less than that. Her thick, green hair is tied out the way at the back of her head, and Prosciutto notes the impracticality of her pink and brown jumper in the summer sun. “Oh Prosciutto,” she coos, bringing her hands to her mouth in joy. “Your voice, it’s wonderful!”

“Is it?” Prosciutto remarks, startled. “I didn’t think it had changed much yet. Father certainly didn’t notice, not that that’s a bad thing.”

“The don never did pay much attention, did he? Well, it certainly sounds like progress to me, so you should be proud of yourself, Prosci. Now, come in, come in!” she urges him, taking my the wrist and leading him to the house’s small kitchen. “So, tell me what you and your father talked about. I know you were very anxious about seeing him. Did you... take the big step?”

At that moment a young boy bounds in from the hallway, flinging himself at Prosciutto with open arms. “Fra!” the child shouts excitedly. Prosciutto picks him up and holds him.

“Hello Pesci, how are you doing, eh?” Prosciutto greets him. The young boy babbles something incoherently and bites his knuckles. Loreta gives a little laugh and takes her son from his brother’s arms.

“Pesci’s doing great, thank you. He’s settling into the new daycare and making a couple friends,” she announces, putting him down on the ground.

“Wonderful,” Prosciutto remarks with a smile. He leans down to address the child. “Now Pesci, why don’t you go play in your room for a minute. Let your mother and I discuss some business. If you’re good, I’ll take you to the park afterwards,” he promises. Pesci nods and hobbles back to his bedroom. Prosciutto sighs and stands up, turning back to face Loreta.

“Yes, I told my father I don’t want a relationship with him any more,” Prosciutto affirms. “He took it... poorly, but I believe he understands that I can’t be stopped. I shouldn’t be seeing much of him any more.”

“Congratulations. That was very brave of you, Prosciutto, and very good. Hopefully this will make things much easier for you from now on,” Loreta praises him.

“Yes, it very much will. I don’t have to worry about him finding my pills any more, and I’m looking into getting my first surgery before the end of the year.”

“That will be excellent for you! Changing the subject, you’ll have to remind me, my memory’s completely gone! What is it you’re planning on studying?” Loreta enquires.

“Politics, with a little literature on the side,” he answers.

“Politics? Do you plan to work with theory or practice?”

“Theory, god, never practice. If I tried that, father really might send an assassin out for me. I’m hoping to go into journalism, or something of the sort, though eventually I want to veer back into academia. I think it would suit me.”

“Definitely!” Loreta enthuses. “You could do anything you put your mind to Prosci!”

“I can only try. Now, your attention please,” Prosciutto says, whipping out a slip of paper from his pocket and places it down on the table. “I’ve done some maths. With the amount I’m getting from the inheritance, I can up what I’m giving you to 1 million lire a month, all the way up until Pesci turns 19. This is excluding a little extra to help with university costs, as well as some flexibility for you to take more in an emergency, say, if you ever lose your job. What do you think?”

“Prosciutto... I could never take from your mother’s money, it just wouldn’t be right,” Loreta refutes him.

“You were young, Loreta, you didn’t understand what you were doing. Believe me when I say that if my mother were here, she’d forgive you. Besides, father didn’t throw you out as his mistress, he threw you out as his wife. You deserve this money, Loreta, and I’m going to give it to you,” Prosciutto insists.

“It isn’t right,” Loreta repeats sadly. “Horrible thing, what happened to that woman. To just waste away for years on end while your husband prances around with some... girl. I should never benefit from that suffering. If I ever get sick like that, Prosciutto, just pull the plug. Pull the plug.”

Prosciutto sighs.

“If not for you, then take it for Pesci. Regardless of how she felt about you, I know my mother would never approve of any child living in poverty, especially not one I call my brother. Take it for him, please,” he begs her.

“Alright...” Loreta concedes. “I suppose I do really need it. Thank you, Prosciutto, it means a lot to me.”

“It’s what you deserve. Now, you’ve got your money, and I’ve got my freedom, and it’s all thanks to my mother’s will,” Prosciutto begins, pouring out two glasses of brandy from the cabinet. He sits down at the table. “To Signora Crepuscolo, for both our salvations.”

Loreta smiles and raises her glass, before drinking. Pesci returns from the hallway, and she quickly hides the glass and bottle behind her torso.

“What’s the matter darling, are you having fun?” she asks.

“I wanna play with Fra!” the boy insists.

“I suppose we’re done here anyway,” Prosciutto concedes. “Shall we?”

“I’ll just get Pesci’s coat,” Loreta agrees. She hurries off into the hall.

::::::::::::

A mere street away from the young family, a group of youths gather in the abandoned office. The youngest of the boys, a slender young man of 17, with raven hair and a hateful eye looks around the group critically as he shuffles on his feet.

“I’m in the right place aren’t I?” he asks. “Cause right now I feel like I’m either here to play tag or get stabbed, and neither of those is what I was called in for.”

“Depends,” one of the other boys says. “Are you Sorbet?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “Who’s asking?”

“Name’s Matteo, I’m in charge here. I’m the one your pay’s been coming from,” the group’s leader explains. Sorbet looks him up and down and sees a sad, dishonest looking man only a few years older than him. It’s clear this boy isn’t actually where the buck stops rolling in this sad little street gang of theirs, but the fact Sorbet hasn’t been attacked yet tells him the boy’s story is at least close enough to the truth to trust what he’s about to say. He decides to hear him out. “I’ve heard a lot about you. ‘Said you’re good with your fists and better with a gun. Is that true?”

“That’s correct,” Sorbet says with a smirk.

“What is it you do right now? Errands?” Matteo asks.

“Mostly. Though lately I just do whatever’s needed. I guard meet-ups, deal with troublemakers-”

“Yes, that’s what we’re here to talk about,” Matteo interrupts. “Word is, you’re good at it. How would you feel about... maybe doing a little more than beating them up for a change?”

“You want me to kill someone? Done. The pay better be good though,” Sorbet agrees unconcerned.

“Oh, it will be. But what if I wanted you to kill multiple people? What if, you became the guy I call when I want someone killed?” Matteo proposes.

“I’m up for it, but I’d want to know why. Why’s a group like us suddenly need a massive hit list?”

“Opportunity,” Matteo answers. “It’s not that we’ve got a hit list, just that we might be able to afford one at some point in the future. “With Crepuscolo and his lot on his way out, it’s only a matter of time until we can come out of the shadows.”

“Ambitious. What makes you think we’ve got the manpower to usurp them?”

“Maybe we don’t, but we’re hoping whoever does will let us do what we want a little more. You know?”

“Passione, I imagine,” Sorbet surmises. The others nod in agreement.

::::::::::::

It is January of 1989 and Prosciutto is freshly 24. His diploma hangs over the wall of his lounge, above his typewriter and an array of open books. He pours a glass and relaxes, sitting back against the comfortable expanse of his settee. He takes a sip of red wine and flicks through his calender. Loreta will be visiting tomorrow with Pesci, and Prosciutto is looking forward to it very much. Supposedly, Pesci learned to ride his bike the other day, and he’s eager for the two to go out together.

Prosciutto feels he deserves a bit of a celebration. His last article, by all early measurements, performed very well, and there’s talk of promoting him among the newspaper agency. If all goes to plan, he might not need to rely on his mother’s inheritance for much longer. Perhaps, he might even be able to buy Loreta a new house. Pesci could use the space now he’s bigger.

Someone knocks at the door frantically. Prosciutto gets up cautiously, conscious of how incredibly late it is for someone to be looking for him. The knock rings out again, louder this time, and Prosciutto reaches for the door of the living room.

There’s a mighty crash, and several footsteps rush into the front room. Prosciutto rushes for the drawer to get his gun, always a good thing to have when you’re the estranged son of a crime boss. He aims it readily as the living room door is bashed open.

Four men, armed to the teeth, spill into the sitting room. They aim their weapons at Prosciutto, held back seemingly only by the warning hand of their leader. The man looks down at the photograph in his hand, and back up at Prosciutto.

“I take it you don’t go by Maiale any more.”

“No, but thanks for checking. Why the hell are you in my house?” Prosciutto demands.

“You are the eldest child of the late Don Crepuscolo, yes?” the man asks. Prosciutto lowers his gun.

“Why do you say late?”

“Your father was executed by order of our boss, yesterday evening. Depending on the course of this conversation, you may or may not be joining him,” the man explains. “Now kindly drop the gun.”

Prosciutto complies.

“We’re from Passione, if you didn’t know,” adds one of his companions. “They said you were a journalist, so I’m surprised you haven’t heard about the war that went on,” he notes.

“I... try to avoid covering stories related to the syndicates,” Prosciutto explains. His heart is hammering at a million miles an hour. This feels surreal, dream-like, but deep down Prosciutto knows it’s very, very real.

“Long story short,” the leader continues. “If you want to survive, it will be in Passione’s debt. Gotta make sure the boss can keep an eye on you after all. Now come on, you and I are going to get into the car. Sorbet, Gelato, go upstairs and take anything of value.”

“What? You’re taking my stuff?” Prosciutto protests. The leader shrugs.

“You got it all from your parents, didn’t you? We own all your parents assets now. That makes it ours.”

As Prosciutto stares dumbstruck, two young men with interlinked arms head up the stairs. His stairs, his house. He stand’s defenceless as the groups leader grabs him by the wrist.

“And by the way, Crepuscolo, we know about your brother. Just in case you were planning on making a run for it at any point.”

Prosciutto Crepuscolo is compliant as he is dragged from his home. Driven away in the backseat of his captor’s car, he watches helplessly as his house is burnt to the ground.

::::::::::::

“My father’s house didn’t last long either,” Prosciutto adds. His audience, consisting of one attentive Risotto Nero, and the passed out body of Gelato over the back of the sofa, remain quiet. “They knocked it down the other year. I’m sure you would have seen the construction work.”

“Yes, I think I recall that,” Risotto answers.

“Now here I am, second-in-command to the brand new assassination squad. Truly I’m honoured,” Prosciutto tuts. He downs another shot of alcohol, and Risotto apprehensively takes the cue to do the same.

“You don’t have any resentment to Sorbet and Gelato for the house?” Risotto asks.

“I can’t really, they didn’t benefit from it. Besides, at the end of the day, this has worked out for me. I don’t think I would have really made it as a journalist,” Prosciutto maintains.

“I wouldn’t agree!”

“Yeah, well you can keep it to yourself. I gotta cope somehow. Honestly though, the one part of this I do regret is my brother. I wish I could have spent more time with him, growing up, but I didn’t want to mix him up in... this.”

“He’s the reason you rejected the role of captain, isn’t he?” Risotto realises.

“Yes,” Prosciutto admits after a pause. “If I were in your role I don’t think I’d be able to make time for him at all.”

“I understand. It’s very noble of you, Prosciutto. To look after him like that.” Risotto judges. Prosciutto tuts.

“Whatever.”

The doorbell rings and Risotto tries to stand up.

“No, no, I’ll get it,” Prosciutto insists. He puts down his glass and heads downstairs to the door. The boy behind it trembles heavily as he looks up at him with pleading eyes. “Pesci?”

“Hi, Fra,” the boy says weakly.

“Pesci what in god’s name are you doing here? I told you not to come to this house for any reason!” Prosciutto admonishes him.

“I’m sorry! I know what you said but- Mum’s still in the hospital and... I really didn’t want to be alone again tonight.”

Prosciutto leans down. His eyes widen with worry.

“Alright, if that’s the case then you can come in,” he permits. Pesci steps forward and falls into his arms. He starts to sob.

“She’s really sick, Fra.”

“I know Pesci, I know. I’m here.”

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #prosciutto #prosciutto jjba #l'inizio

[jjba-hell]

Revoked

Still late for day 2 but I am enjoying the hell out of these prompts. (Today’s prompt was sci-fi)

Trigger warnings for the death of the ice cream gays but lemme know if I missed anything else.

Summary: a weird mismatched team of busted up aliens and half-blood humans just dealing with some shit.

For the lovely: @lasquadraweek2021

“You should really just transfer to a new body Pros. Humans aren’t supposed to live this long, babe.”

You grumble probably more to yourself than to the man whose forearm you were tinkering in. Well... maybe tinkering wasn’t the word either. He needed another repair and honestly you can’t help but feel like Risotto only offered you the air-mattress in the ship because so many of these psychos have bio-tech they can’t afford to upkeep.

“Sure, I can’t afford a rewire but I can surely afford getting my brain transplanted in a new body.”

“Human bodies are so easy to grow though.” You peer up at him over your magnify glasses with a wriggle of eyebrows. “Fully grown in a quarter rotation? Come on I still have to wait another half rotation to buy a swimsuit let alone grow a body.”

Prosciutto flexed the hand you were working on to spite you but all you did was strap the wrist down and switch off the impulse circuit before getting up and walking toward the exit of the ship where the others were sprawled out in the soft baby blue grass of the planet you were hiding out at.

Melone’s gaze shot from laptop up as you kicked your untied boots from your feet and slid into the grass, barely hearing him as he asked “Any luck with Pros’s arm?”

“I can’t keep mending the same two wires that keep popping off. Its best we find a place that can handle Babyface’s software and get a new one.”

“Still not budging for just replacing the whole thing?” Formaggio asked from somewhere across the clearing.

Like he was one to talk- Akils like him grew back heads and limbs, there wasn’t exactly a need to know anything about biotech.

“Nope. Are all humans this stubborn?”

“I think its the half Megnu in him.” Illuso was the one to chirp in this time.

“That’s still not confirmed.” You sat back on your feet to try and spot your teammates.

“Well he won’t let me analyze.” Melone sighed- continuing to worry away at the clear glass screen that held all his designs.

Melone truly was a bit of a madman to you- he designed the entirety of his body on that simple glass tablet and yet couldn’t finish his face in time before the feds were on him for unethical medical practice- ironic considering he was only putting himself through the strain of fitting his brain into a piece of machinery. What his official titles were in his old field were beyond you.

“Pesci’s not all Scud and he’s not half as stubborn.” You commented and with a soft hum the team fell back into silence.

“Where’s Ris?”

“He’s in bed- that last jump took a toll on him.” Illuso finally rose up from the grass himself heading a bit further away from the clearing, probably wandering after Ghiacchio who was asked to take a lap after he froze off Formaggio’s finger.

You clambered up a few steps to find your captain with the old-fashioned two-way radio in his hand as he lay passed out on couch of the shared living room.

Risotto would rather be caught dead than caught like this so, with intent, you stepped up to take the radio out of his hand. He seemed to gently wake at your fingers prying the piece or equipment from his hand.

“Shit.” He grumbled. “How long-?”

“Ghiacchio’s not even back from his lap- don’t worry. Just head off before they catch you.”

And with a slight groan he rolled up and disappeared down the hallways to his bunk which sounded with an ungraceful “clunk” as he fell into the bed.

Your name got hollered with the slightest tone of desperation from Prosciutto and with that you were back doing your part in the team behind the scene.

“You’re a purebred?” Prosciutto had eventually asked after a few minutes of boredom at watching you weld wires back to the motherboard.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “What am I? A dog?”

He seemed to swallow his words.

“Where do you think I’m from?” You tried to smooth it over.

“Caestea- at least your appearance would have you look like that.”

Another laugh. “I’m from Earth, Pros.”

His eyes widened. “Impossible.”

“Oh yeah. My parents weren’t exactly refugees but they are most certainly not human. Fuck knows what my genetic makeup looks like but thankfully I certainly age like a Caestean. You are all human, huh?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Not that there are many of us left.”

In a sense you felt bad for him. You’d seen photos of Earth long before it started to mimic its brother planet Mars but you rarely thought of how wickedly the planet must have lost its life before intergalactic intervention. Humans were strangely scared and selfish creatures but no one deserved to die because there was no clean water to drink.

You shook off the macabre though before closing up Pros’s arm and putting away the tools. “That should do for now but we really do need to think of a replacement in the near future.”

“Thanks.”

It was a half-assed thank you but it surely caught your attention. Pros was a little too prideful to give just anyone a thanks but nonetheless you returned the sentiment. “No problem.”

Outside the boys were fighting again- or rather Ghiacchio was arguing as Formaggio was pushing his buttons while Pesci grilled a rather obscenely colorful fish over the fire-in-tin.

“Oh just the person we needed to see.”

Getting clasped with two arms over the neck was bad enough but from Sorbet and Gelato, now that was trouble waiting to start.

“Oh gods, what do I have to offer this time.”

“Don’t be so serious!” Sorbet cooed darkly.

“We were just hoping you could help us out with the next target.” His boyfriend added.

If you could just roll your eyes back far enough.

“Wandering off from our captain’s orders doesn’t sound like something I’d want to get myself involved in.”

“Not even for a bionic manufacturer?”

“Or a healing bay, for the ship? Surely you could install those things no problem.”

Honestly it was hard not to fall for the stereotype that all Makzi’s do is play dirty and haggle like merchants but here you were, stuck between them and being tempted into breaking formation with them.

“And what would I have to lose?”

“Nothing much-“

“Maybe some face with Risotto.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You want me to convince him?”

“Exactly- he might actually consider something if it came out of your pretty mouth.”

“Or rather, if he could come in it.”

You took one step back and bowed out of the hold between the two of them. “Fucking sleezes. Your shit’s gonna get you killed, mark my words.”

“So its a no?”

“Its a fuck no, Sorbet. Vile comments aside, that shit is expensive, even dent-jobs sell for millions... that kind of money is too big a job for us to handle right now and stealing one even more. Get your heads out of your asses before you come up to me with more dumb shit, next time.”

And with that you slipped back beside Illuso as Pesci was grilling up the third fish for the night. Looking back at what you had said was not untrue. That night you were restless in your bunker above Formaggio- Illuso peering behind the sliding divider across the little hallway that ran between the bed bunks.

“Something on your conscience?”

“No.”

“You sure?” You nearly leapt out of skin as Formaggio’s forehead popped up just below your chin outside your divider. “You’ve turned and kicked like 10 times, babe.”

“Please don’t babe me.” You frown at him but you answered the gnawing feeling by asking. “Where are Sorbet and Gelato?”

“Probably in their bed.” Illuso answered as if there wasn’t a more logical answer.

“Wanna put money on it?” Your eyebrow raised.

“And catch them in the act? Daaamn you’re dirtier than I thought.”

“Come on then, 10 drinks at the next stop they’re not in their bunk.”

“Shit, I can’t miss on that opportunity.” Formaggio’s divider slid open all the way to allow him to plop with bare feet to the double bunks at the end of the hallway.” You and Illuso watched in trepidation as he knelt down and knocked. There was no answer save for Risotto’s stern frown behind the top divider making an appearance. “What do you want?”

“Are Sorbet and Gelato in there?” You piped up first.

The angry frown turned into concern as he slid out of his bunk to replace where Formaggio was. He slid the door open to reveal one big empty bed.

What you’d have given to be wrong. But instead the panic bit you all and soon you were messily slipping on boots and running around the ship to find the missing lovers.

Pesci checked the engine compartments he might have accidentally left open, Pros checked the storage while Risotto was seeing if he could track them on the radar. It was only when you were hoisted onto the roof by Formaggio that the dread set into your bones.

“Tell Ris to switch on the overhead console lights.”

You called back down below you. Part of you wished you didn’t... since all it did was put them on display.

It was a vile thing that made Risotto’s eyes grow darker than they already were and once dawn broke, you and Melone quietly put the bodies into the best makeshift body bags you could manage. The lake a few paces away was where you last saw those body bags.

After you left that pit stop you sat in silence in the communal meeting area, your legs flung over one of the armrests in your seat- staring blankly at the coffee table you’d nipped from a market not too long ago.

“So... what’s the plan?”

You asked at anyone who would listen.

“Do we go on as usual? Find their families?”

“Revenge?”

Your head turned to Prosciutto as he was enjoying one last drag of his cigarette.

“You’re brave.” You huffed a bit of laughter at the thought. The big boss and his cronies- the only real reason none of you strayed from Risotto’s orders was way up on a station so far up the intergalactic alliance ladder that you’d have a better shot at killing the king of Gnomia B908 and getting away with it.

“Why not?” Illuso was the one to back it. “Surely we could track the sick fucks that did it.”

“You’re thinking too simply.” Risotto grumbled over his fist. “They didn’t get themselves killed by accident. This was deliberate- a display not to challenge the higher ups.”

“Any idea what they were planning?” You sat up, propping your elbows onto your knees.

Risotto kindly pulled up their hidden plans- your name encircled in red a few times. They seemed to have had their eye on a biotech printer and medbay that was once used by the Boss himself.

“What’s the relevance of an old medbay?” Pros posed the question to you- Melone was up front with Formaggio.

“Medbays need to keep track of any irregularities in DNA to avoid any incompatibility issues. Its one of the few things that can’t be wiped because its burned into the drive. They were trying to expose the Boss’s identity.”

“And they were planning on risking us all in the process?”

You pointed at a little arrow shooting off your name once more. “They figured I could remove and replace the hard drive before anyone noticed.”

Your throat felt dry as you realized what that meant. Whoever this person was... if they could follow something as irrelevant as a used medbay to keep their tracks clean... chances are you were all, at best, being watched.

The thought must have been shared as Risotto didn’t breathe a word as he moved to the front of the ship and changed course to an unaffiliated vector you know damn well you’d probably be searched and cleansed for.

To no one’s surprise the pristine white towers blinded and no sooner than two seconds of coming into orbit of one of the bigger planets you were requested to land.

You stood beside you captain as the ship docked and you waited with your hands behind your head to greet the haz-mat team. “You must be pretty serious about this if you’re willing to get sit in their prison.”

He gazed down at you and with a deadpan tone simply said: “You’ve escaped, I’m certain you could do it again.”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #la squadra #jojo part 5 #risotto nero #prosciutto #illuso #formaggio #ghiaccio #whole gang’s here... more or less #lasquadraweek2021

[wri0thesley]

unfortunately i wrote sorbet n gelato cockwarming because the self ship server is just a fucking. ENABLER HAVEN. i blame @purplehazescape for this mostly 

warnings: NOT SFW afab reader, neutral pronouns aside from italian terms (troia/puttana/amore) reader wears a skirt. slurs. threat of death. knives. blood. public play. bringing ppl into your kink without consent. i dont know how to explain this dynamic im just . . . bro im just horny

“What? You don’t think you can take it?” Gelato leans over in front of you, chucking your chin, grin playing about his own mouth (you see the flash of sharp teeth - you’ve always wondered if they’re naturally like that, or if Gelato is simply fucked up enough to have gotten it done cosmetically). “Amore, if I’m going to have to give up my seat to you--”

“If you know what’s good for you,” Sorbet intones, and the bigger man’s hands are suddenly settling either side of your hips, heavy and warm. “You’ll take it.”

You shiver. You wet your lips.

“What will you do to me if I can’t?” You ask, your voice soft, your lashes lowered - and Gelato throws his head back and laughs that wild iron-grate-see-saw laugh of his, that you by all accounts should hate but still sends a thrill through you. You know him well enough to tell his laugh of amusement and his laugh of anger and frustration apart by now, and you - lucky you - always seem to manage to err on the side of entertainment. 

“Best you don’t find that out, hmm?” Sorbet’s breath is warm against your neck. 

Gelato moves across the room, cat-like, delicately considering the other options of places he can sit - but through it all, his dark eyes do not move from you and Sorbet.

“I want to watch,” Gelato breathes, as he eventually perches on the side of Risotto’s favourite armchair. “I want to see them take you, Sorbetto--”

The sing-song tone of Gelato’s voice as he uses the pet name sends another pleased shiver through your body, as does the hungry way that Gelato’s gaze rests on both of you. Sorbet’s hands travel over your hips, pausing to rest on your thighs, hot fingertips digging into soft flesh as he flips up the skirt (chosen this morning just for this purpose, because Sorbet had leaned over you in the wardrobe and thrust it into your hands, telling you ‘You’ll want this’). After they’d made their request - no, perhaps order is a better word - you’d been grateful that they’d thought ahead. 

“You’re already ready for me, puttana,” Sorbet hisses, and he roughly digs his painted nails into your flesh to turn you slightly towards Gelato and Gelato’s hungry, hungry eyes. “See, Gelatino?”

“Shameless,” Gelato breathes, his eyes raking over the damp spot on your underwear, even as you try fruitlessly to press your thighs together and hide your shame. “It’s a good job Sorbet’s taking pity on you, troia. If you weren’t filled up, who knows who else you’d go begging for cock--”

The noise that escapes your own throat is a low needy whine, as Sorbet’s fingers move and gently rub at your slit through the underwear, the fabric rapidly dampening. 

“You’re so easy,” Gelato continues, his eyes not leaving you for a moment. “We give you a scrap of attention and you’re like a fucking puppy dog, brazen little whore--”

“He’s right, you know,” Sorbet growls, and you hear the elastic in your underwear snap and wonder why you even bother wearing it with these two around. “Only a whore would let us use them like this. Only a whore would spread their legs and sit there right in front of everyone else on their team with one of their lovers’ cocks buried inside them--”

Breathlessly, you whisper;

“W-who said I was going to just let you?”

It’s like a switch being pulled. Sorbet is dragging you backwards, hands knit in your hair, teeth sinking into your neck at the same time as Gelato is moving across the room lightning-fast, pressing himself so close to you that you feel the heavy heat of his cock in military fatigues pressing against your thigh - and something metal and sharp pressing against your other. The moan-whimper dies in your throat as Gelato drags the knife up your body, nicking the shirt you’re wearing just a little, knife tip pressing against your clavicle. 

“It would be so quick,” Gelato reminds you - you never know whether his threats are empty or not, and that’s what has your heart hammering and breath catching and underwear soaking. “If you aren’t good for us . . . amore, you’d hardly be the first toy we’ve broken--”

Sorbet’s teeth, dragging along your flesh, and your moan is strangled. Sorbet himself huffs laughter into the shell of your ear, breath hot. His cock digs hard into your ass. 

“You’re lucky we like you,” he reminds you, rasping. “Lucky you take us so well--”

Gelato moves the knife, tapping it thoughtfully for a moment against your lips, barely missing nicking your lip (bitten, bleeding lips would hardly give the rest of the team pause amongst the three of you, so you can only assume he never meant to hurt you and not that he’s teasing you). 

“Be good for Sorbet,” he reminds you. “Or the rest of the team will get to know what it is you’re doing, and we won’t like them thinking of you like that at all.”

You nod, swallowing - and you receive a dazzling smile from Gelato, practically vibrating as he takes his place back on the arm of Risotto’s chair. Sorbet is almost lazy as his other hand moves down and you hear the zip of his trousers, fingers squeezing your ass, questing to the slick lips of your sex. He snorts as he feels that you’ve just gotten wetter, despite the fact mere moments ago Gelato had a knife pressed against you - and then, you’re pulled backwards even more, and your breath hitches as the head of Sorbet’s cock brushes your entrance. 

“S-Sorbet--” you start, trying to speak, but Gelato smirks and taps his lips as you hear the faintest sounds of stirring, feet on a staircase, grumbles from the rest of your team. A spark of panic registers dull in the back of your mind, the tip of Sorbet’s cock slick and thick as his hand wraps around your middle - Sorbet is big. Sorbet’s a stretch for you to take even when the situation is favourable, an aching heat that leaves you sore for days-- “Sorbet, please, be g-gen--aah---”

You should have known the ‘please’ would get him - it always does. You should have known the minute Sorbet and Gelato sensed your panic in the air, they’d abuse it - because no sooner have you opened your mouth to beg than Sorbet has thrust up and pulled you down and ten thick inches are buried in you to the hilt, the burning stretch white hot for a moment as you cry out. Your vision is whited out, but you see Gelato across the room huff and a hand rub at the front of his fatigues, hear Sorbet’s satisfied growl into your ear whilst your body tries desperately to adjust to the new sensation--

“Oh!” That’s Formaggio’s voice, calling out your name in concern. “We heard you cry, are you o-- oh.” Your vision comes back into focus enough to see the pantomime play out - Formaggio’s brow, knit with worry, softening as he realises you’re with Sorbet and Gelato. Any cries of pain coming from this room, then, it’s generally agreed are your own fault for getting involved with the two of them. “Huh. Weird to see you not on Sorbet’s lap, Gelato.”

Your vision still feels blurry, but the ache inside you is starting to subside from a burning expanse into something more manageable. You’re aware your breathing is a little heavy, but the way Sorbet has wrapped his arms around you (both to hide the fact your stomach is probably bulging a little and to keep your clothes covering you and to keep you prostrate against him) is covering most of it. 

“They got there first,” Gelato drawls, his eyes shifting to you, crawling over your body. “So I had to give up my throne for today.” Gelato shrugs, grinning. “Maybe Risotto will let me sit on his lap.” 

“Or you could sit like a normal person on a fucking seat,” Ghiaccio grumbles, entering the room. He spares a glance at you and Sorbet - Sorbet moves one hand, lazily, to fake a wave and the way that it makes his body shift in even the slightest way has you biting your tongue to stop a moan slipping out. Sorbet doesn’t miss your trouble - he leans low against you, lips against your earlobe, and murmurs;

“Behave.”

So you do. 

You’re a little distracted, clearly, when team members greet you and all you can do is offer a weak ‘mm’ in response (it’s difficult to think of anything other than Sorbet’s cock inside you, perfectly still). Even Gelato’s teasing - which you’d usually respond to with barbed wire comments that make him grin and spark and laugh - when people ask why you’ve taken Gelato’s usual spot doesn’t manage to provoke much of a reaction from you. All you can think of is how big he is, how good it feels, that ache inside you that had been stroked when Sorbet’s fingers had dipped into your slit and the two of them had called you a slut--

You bite down hard on your lip to stop from shifting, pressing against Sorbet’s chest, whining for more stimulation. You won’t bring yourself to beg in front of the rest of the team, who think everything is normal! Though Gelato’s grin is shit-eating, you try and bite down on your lip and keep quiet. 

It’s all fine. Gelato takes Sorbet’s assignments from next to Risotto (Risotto had not, predictably, let him sit on his lap - Gelato had thrown his head back and laughed and you’d seen a genuine flash of fear in Pesci’s eyes that perhaps this was going to push Gelato’s angry switch, but the blond had remained good-natured.)

You know why Gelato had remained good-natured, of course - he’s enjoying watching your eyebrows knit and your body stay still, the flush on your cheeks and the way you’re having to count your breaths so that you don’t give the game away by panting. Sorbet, behind you, is utterly relaxed. 

Bastard. 

Sorbet’s always had patience, though - patience that you know he doesn’t get to exercise with Gelato, who has never sat still in his life. Instead, Sorbet has you to play with for his more elaborate waiting games - a night spent gagged with one of the bigger toys inside you, coming over and over again, when Gelato and Sorbet had a hit to attend to. A day when you were only allowed to say ‘yes, Master’. A day you’d spent chained and blindfolded, bent over the desk in their room - Sorbet and Gelato coming in to fuck you every so often without even announcing their presence, so it was down to the way they fucked you and the feel of their cock - wherever they decided to put it - to tell you who was in the room with you at any one time.

The daydreaming and memories get away from you, thoughts of times when you were actually being fucked instead of being made to take part in this slow torture of having something so close to you and yet utterly still swimming in your mind to mock you.

Sorbet pokes you in the stomach and you blink, pulled from your thoughts. 

Risotto is looking at you, ink and blood eyes perturbed, something held in his hand. 

Fuck.

Your assignments for the week. 

“You can fucking lean forward,” Ghiaccio grumbles. “He’s not that far away from you, and Sorbet can’t be that comfortable--”

“He’s very comfortable, believe me,” Gelato purrs at Ghiaccio, and Pesci blushes and Prosciutto clicks his tongue as if chastising a dog, tired. 

“Come on,” The latter says, his blue eyes staring hard and cold into you. “We all have places to be. Take them so we can get on with it.”

Helplessly, you look at Gelato - but no. Gelato’s grin is shit-eating as always, eyes bright. Sorbet sighs, a sound of annoyance that has everyone on hold. 

“Get them yourself, amore,” Gelato croons, his eyes not leaving you for a moment. “You’re capable of it, aren’t you?”

You don’t want to move on Sorbet’s cock, afraid of how the ridges and veins and the feeling of his shaft inside you might make your thighs jump and your composure slip - helplessly, you look from Gelato to Risotto again, but then Sorbet himself leans forward and oh my God--

You don’t realise you’ve moaned out loud, eyelids fluttering closed, breath hitching and cheeks flushing, until Illuso cackles with laughter and Prosciutto hisses;

“You have got to be kidding me--”

“In the fucking living room?”

“In front of everyone?”

“Are you really on his--”

“Jesus Christ--”

Through everyone’s groans and uncomfortable flushes and, you don’t fail to notice, sudden boners (Melone’s outfit leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination after all), one voice is unmistakable: a rusty iron gate, laughing, crowing;

“You really are shameless, aren’t you?”

Your face is burning, but Gelato’s is triumphant and pleased.

Oh, you’re going to get in so much trouble for this. 

#writing #self ship postin kind of idk #slurs #afab reader #neutral pronouns #blood #knives #sorbet #gelato #poly ship tag #not sfw

[abbacchiosbelt]

27 with Risotto please. (Hey I know you were having a rough time earlier, I hope you’re feeling better and the new year is a good one for you. Love your writing!!!)

cw for possessive behavior, unhealthy thoughts, unreliable narration, implied emotional manipulation, and brief but suggestive content.

Being designated as a runner between dangerous groups in Passione hadn’t been your first choice in life. If it were anyone else, you could run from the debt that had accrued under your family name. No one escaped Passione, though, and it’s how you found yourself facing life as a runner while staring down the barrel of a gun. You were only offered two choices — life under Passione or death by Passione.

Life, though unfair, was what you had chosen.

The job you were given was almost the lowest of the low, yet at the same time, you were given dangerous assignments. You did little more than deliver messages between teams, but the high caliber of the messages put a target on your back. Walking outside was risking being attacked, though ignoring your assignments would result in a far worse fate. 

Still, there are little perks. Not everyone in the organization treats you like dirt — a few of the members you’d met have escorted you while delivering messages, and some have even offered simple comforts like a cup of coffee or a pack of cigarettes. While some would scoff at such small offerings, small acts of kindness helped to restore some humanity to your tired mind. 

There was one group, though, that made a chill run up your spine every time you arrived in front of their safe house. 

Today happened to be one of those days where you were assigned to deliver a message to your least favorite group. It wasn’t so much that they were rude — they were stand-offish like many of the men you’d met in Passione, but there was something off about them that you hadn’t noticed in other members. The way they leered at you with a dark look in their eyes, or how the more outgoing members would wrap a heavy arm around your shoulders when you arrived.

It was unnerving, yet the fear of retaliation kept you from complaining. What scared you the most was their capo, Risotto Nero. It’d only been a coincidence that you’d learned his name, something you feared that would find you a fresh spot inside of the ground. One of his men had casually dropped it, playing coy when they saw the shock on your face.

Risotto didn’t say anything to either of you, instead just subjecting you to a slow and piercing look that left your skin covered in goosebumps, and a racing heart that told you to run away as fast as possible. 

“Lucky break,” The offending party had scoffed, earning a sharp reprimand from his capo. (You’d later learn that this man’s name was Illuso and that causing trouble was something that brought him fun, especially if it was the expense of others.) 

You’d left that day with a feeling that something was very, very wrong. 

-

You steel your nerves as you knock in the rusty door with the pattern you’d been instructed to use for deliveries to this group. The last visit had left you with a sinking feeling in your stomach and the way your heart dropped when you got your assignment just hours ago had left you ridden with anxiety. There was nothing you could do but follow your orders, so follow your orders you did.

It doesn’t take long before the door is rattling as various locks are undone, creaking open to reveal a tuft of green hair and a nervous face. Pesci you recognized and found him the least offending (though still odd) member of the group. 

“Fra,” Pesci calls behind himself. “I’m letting the runner in.” Pesci opens the door and you quickly walk inside the dreary safe house, dread settling into your bones. The decorations, if they could be called that, led you to believe that every man in the group was a bachelor. There was always a thin coating of dust on the coffee table and sometimes the meager kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes. 

Pesci’s Fra, or Prosciutto as you’d been told, rises from the couch and clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I’ve told you, Pesci. You don’t need my permission for this. Do better.”

“Sorry,” Pesci mumbles. He steps out from behind you after the locks are redone, scuttling behind Prosciutto to nervously look from the floor to you. It made you feel awkward. 

“Let’s hear it, then. I don’t have all day.” Prosciutto was always curt with you, treating you like you were nothing more than a speck of dust on his designer suit. Before you can open your mouth a deep voice interrupts the two of you, sending a wave of fear across your body.

“I need them in my office today.” Without turning, you know it’s Risotto. Prosciutto raises his eyebrow in your direction and shrugs.

“Hey,” Prosciutto snaps, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder. “Pay attention. Follow Risotto.”

You bite back the insult you want to throw at him and wrench yourself out from his grip, nodding curtly before you turn to walk towards Risotto. Every inch of the man radiates intimidation, from his broad musculature to his impossible height. To not fear someone like Risotto Nero would be a death wish. 

“Come,” Risotto states. The walk to his office is filled with an uncomfortable silence, made even more nerve-wracking when you step inside the small room and find the door shut behind you without even being touched. Locks slide in the door themselves and you swallow in anxiety. You’d heard of Stands, anyone in Passione knew about them, but you hadn’t been permitted to take the supposed test that gave you one.

You guessed, judging by this group’s high-security messages, that they all held dangerous Stands. You didn’t really want to know more. 

“Sit.” Risotto commands, already looming behind his thick oak desk. It was the nicest piece of furniture you’d seen in their safe house. You sit on the rickety chair placed in front of the heavy desk and fold your hands in your lap, not making eye contact out of respect for someone superior to you in ranking. At least, you hoped he’d interpret it that way.

“How do you like your job?” Risotto’s words make your heart flutter with fear in your chest. It’s the most you’ve heard him speak at once and a question you never expected to hear from someone like him. When you hesitate, he continues. “Speak freely, but it’s in your best interest to be polite when someone asks you a question.”

A strange feeling bubbles under your wrist, yet it’s nothing more than an annoyance. You chalk it off as a simple cramp, taking a breath before you look up and speak. “I’m very happy with it.” It’s a lie, but you’re not sure what Risotto is expecting. If word got back that you were saying bad things about your employer, you’d certainly be punished. The pain from your wrist flares up again, stronger this time. You hiss in pain.

“I asked you to speak freely, did I not? Tell me the truth.” Risotto catches your gaze and you shiver, nodding.

“I wasn’t given a choice. On one hand, the assignments are easy to carry out. I like getting out around town. But I also fear for my life every time I leave my house. Being given permission to carry and deliver information puts a target on my back.”

Risotto hums, sliding his gaze up and down your body as if he was appraising you. It makes you want to jump up from the chair and run despite knowing you can’t escape. Another strange sensation flits across both of your ankles — the same sharp tugging sensation that your wrists felt, though the sting is more prominent. 

“Would you like a new job?” There’s no hint of humor or sarcasm in his deep voice, only a blunt sincerity. 

“W-what?” You stammer. Red alarm bells are going off in your mind, but there’s nothing you can do to stop them. “I don’t think I can. I mean, if I stop, my boss will find me.”

“What if he couldn’t?” Risotto gives you an almost imperceptible smile before you feel an incredibly sharp pain burst from your wrists and ankles at the same time, making you cry out. When you try to stand, though, you’re stopped by a cold sensation digging into your flesh. Looking down makes your blood run cold — you’re held in place by handcuffs.

“What is this?” You shriek, struggling in your bonds. The more you struggle, the dizzier you start to feel. Risotto’s voice sounds like it’s coming through fog when you hear him speak.

“Relax. It’ll go easier.” 

You feel large hands cradling your face and you thrash with the strength you have left, earning you a sharp pain across your neck. 

“Stop.” Risotto’s dark voice scares you into stopping, forcing you to stay still despite the adrenaline coursing through your body. “You’re going to sleep for a bit. When you wake up, we’ll have a discussion.” 

“No,” you mumble, though your voice is already growing weak. Your eyes close against your will and you feel yourself slowly dropping into darkness before you feel nothing.

-

It’s been two months. Two months of struggling against your captor and wishing you could be anywhere but here. Though behaving would earn you better treatment, you can’t allow your will to be broken yet. The ‘discussion’ your captor had promised two months ago was little more than him describing what you were going to do for him. There was no talk of a new job. Your only duty would be to serve him. 

You complied with his mundane requests — filing his group’s paperwork (which you came to know as La Squadra di Esecuzione, erasing any hope you had of escape), cleaning his office, eating dinner together, and whatever activities involved the least emotional attachment. 

At night when he’d crawl in bed beside you, you’d thrash and struggle until he used his Stand against you to hold you down. Though it was only a small mercy in the scheme of things, he didn’t touch you. He’d murmur that he wanted you to love him before that and that he wouldn’t force it on you... Yet Risotto laid beside you in bed every night and held you as a lover would, even though most lovers weren’t held down by bonds made of their own blood. 

What’s worse is that you fear that you’ll fall to his affections soon. Your life isn’t better, but you can’t argue that it’s significantly worse. Being confined in the small yet homey room Risotto had you sequestered in was almost the same in your eyes as being sent out on the streets in fear that you’d be attacked every day. You’re aware enough to know that it isn’t really better... Of course not.

Maybe if you tricked yourself into believing it, you could earn Risotto’s trust. (And your first small step to freedom.)

As your second month with him drew to an end, your will to fight grew more frazzled.

-

Three months have passed now. Each day you wake up and look at Risotto, the revulsion in your stomach churns, but there’s something new behind it. When it passes you feel affection for Risotto that you don’t know where to place. It’s troubling.

At the end of the third month, you’re given a day to relax. You’re left with little to do but read or get lost in your own thoughts. You chose the latter, thinking of freedom and the ability to do whatever you wanted — yet your mind kept betraying you and coming back to Risotto, wondering what sort of life you would have with him if you just behaved.

If you listened to his every word and became his perfect little doll, just as he intended you to when he first saw you. Perhaps all the time you’d spent with him had warped your mind, but as the days went on, it was hard to care, even with the ache of your body being at the mercy of his Stand when you didn’t behave correctly.

It was your fault, wasn’t it? Risotto was doing it for your own good.

-

Five months have passed now. 

You’re laid in bed with Risotto on an early Sunday morning, rain falling heavily against the windows. This morning was the first one where you hadn’t woken up with your arms and wrists cuffed tightly to the bed, and you unconsciously curl around Risotto when you awaken.

“Are you up with the sun today, passerotto?” Risotto softly says, wrapping a warm arm around your shoulders. The nickname he chose for you no longer makes your stomach curl in disgust, instead of making it flutter with affection. You’re not sure when the change happened. 

You nod into his chest, sighing. Something about this morning feels different. Tentatively, you rest one of your hands on his bare chest. He shudders under your touch, exhaling through his nose. 

“If you touch me like that...” Risotto trails off. “I wish you would just let me have you.”

Risotto’s possessive words would have made you coil in fear a month ago. You find yourself wanting to bloom like a flower for him now. Maybe you were his, after all these months. 

But if you were going to belong to him, he was going to belong to you as well. 

You lean up and catch his gaze, smiling in the way he told you he liked best. “You can have me today.”

Risotto lets out another sharp breath and pulls you atop his body with almost no effort. A sizeable hardness presses into your rear as he holds you against his body, pressing his face into your neck as he inhales deeply. 

“Passerotto,” he whines in a voice you’ve never heard from him before. Risotto sounds needy and desperate. It makes you feel giddy. 

There was no way you could overcome Risotto, you figured this out early on. But perhaps you could make him just as reliant on you as he forced you to be for him. The small victory you’d garnered has you eagerly leaning down to capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss, grinding back against him to draw another whiny groan from him.

“Give yourself to me too,” You whisper, pulling away from him. You fear for one moment that he’s going to punish you for such bold words.

Instead, Risotto breathes out a hurried yes before he’s pulling you back into another messy kiss.

Yes, perhaps Risotto belonged to you as well. 

#ask prompt #yandere #my writing #yandere cw #risotto nero #reader insert #vento aureo #jjba fic #la squadra #Anonymous

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Yandere Pesci with a s/o who likes to go on walks and spend time with him but can't due to a chronic illness? (Need me some pesci love ;-;/ )

Pesci is loved on this account, no ifs, ands or buts. He really deserves more poor guy. He’s a nervous boi sometimes.

Anywho it might not be exactly what you wanted, I kind of went my own way with it a little bit. Plus I always imagine Prosciutto helps with the more intense yan stuff, like don’t lose your target, get their location down, kidnap them if need be, charm them if you can, etc. etc. Overall Pesci is a more down to earth yandere, can’t say that for the rest of La Squadra (as they tend to pressure him to be a bit more intense and forward).

  Being an utterly nervous wreck had its disadvantages, especially for an assassin like Pesci was supposed to be. It certainly didn’t help when it came to falling hard for someone. He was like a lost puppy of sorts, clingy and shaking not wanting to lose something that made his heart flutter.

 Prosciutto caught on very quickly to his deep crush, and of course he wanted to instill wisdom just like he had in his line of work.

 “Tell me how long have you had a thing for them?” The blond inquired 

“J-just a few months now” 

““I see so that’s where some of your paycheck went, gifts...” he muttered more as an astute observance rather than something directed towards the man he looked over in assassinations.  “Have you approached them?” Prosciutto pried further 

 He shook his head at this question, and there was a soft tsk from his teammate’s lips. Though the man’s blue eyes quickly hastened to a somewhat more serious demeanor. His bro was always pretty quick witted when putting two and two together when it came to habits of other people. His own staying out late to sneak a peak at your home and drop of gifts was likely already on his more seasoned companion’s mind.  “You’re passionate about whoever this person is and hiding around a corner won’t do you any good, you need to be bold in your pursuit” His hands were now lying on Pesci’s own shoulders.

  “I’m certain you wouldn’t want another man or woman wedging themselves in between you and them correct?” He added on

 “Yeah, I’d uh hate that” Pesci nodded along, that was certainly true he’d be massively jealous of the stranger who approached such a sweet person like you. 

 “Well then, try and get them to yourself directly, without following them around all day”  the blond told him. “If you have to just delve into their vulnerabilities”

 “Otherwise more drastic measures might have to be taken”

   All of that Pesci remembered clear as day, be clear and concise. He just had to attempt to approach you and garner your attention. Of course he didn’t expect it to go down like it had. The area he had bumped into you at the time was pretty inconspicuous and somewhere you seemed to go to when you could.    You just dropped an item that you had purchased from a nearby shop. Of course he was all to eager to pick it up. Cause who knows what kind of person would’ve taken something you bought and would’ve handed it off for a quick grab of cash.

  “Oh you found this? Thank you!” You had given him a genuine smile 

He could barely contain the nervous joy that lied beneath his chest. Even more so he could only stutter out a your welcome.

  Apparently that had amused you to his surprise, usually people would scoff at his appearance and maybe make a snide remark behind his back. He knew he had fallen for the right person, this must be it.

  “Here, it’s the least I could give for you genuinely looking out for me” You had dug out some bills from your bag and were now holding it out towards the man.

 He anxiously took the money from you, as if waiting for an impending negative reaction. He innately knew for some reason you wouldn’t do such a thing but it was something just instilled in him honestly. Though for powering through his hesitance he felt good finally getting to see you face to face.

  Eventually he found himself strategizing of how to bump into you that wasn’t suspicious in nature. Keeping his composure probably helped too but Pesci couldn’t help but melt with every little kind smile you sent his way. You probably caught on to him seeing you often on a few of the same streets. But the way he was going about seeing you would hopefully be impressive to Prosciutto.

  “I don’t get out much honestly due to my condition” You told him one day

“So I don’t get to chat much with others, so it’s nice seeing someone come right to me for once”    He stared at you with fascination and adoration, maybe he wasn’t reading you right but it felt like there was some loneliness laced in your tone. Without hesitation he listened to every word that escaped your lips. You had friends sure but they lived some distance away, and you understood they couldn’t visit often because of that. Of course Pesci took this as a personal advantage, to his admittedly selfish desires.

   “And then I’m left gifts, mainly snacks of all things from who knows where...and I’m not sure whether to eat them or throw them out” You shrug with uncertainty.

  ““Most people...would uhm...say throw it out anyway right?” Pesci piped up nervously

“I suppose so...but I can tell they’re not resealed or anything....so I kind of feel bad” You sigh. “Call it naive or stupid even, but some of those I can’t help but keep around since a few of those treats are my favorites”

  He stared at you with deep interest, you actually liked what he bought you. Of course he er...eavesdropped and may have snuck into your apartment at one point. “Well uh if you don’t trust those, I could always buy you some” He meekly suggested. “Mmm...maybe some other time on another little walk of ours” You smiled 

“For now your company is all I really need”

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenario #yandere jjba #jjba #pesci #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #jjba imagines #la squadra

[star-birthmark]

If you have time would you consider writing a pesci x reader? Maybe one where his gf is in la squadra and disagrees with how prosciutto is training him and treating him? Who would he side with? I hope that made sense, if you decide not to do this, then still have a good day! Thank you for reading this

Hey Anon! Thank you so much for the request, this was a fun one to right out, it’s rare that anyone requests anything Pesci and that’s a shame! He’s a good character and an underrated but necessary part of La Squadra. Sorry this took so long, I’ve been busy this summer studying for the fall. 

Anyway, without further ado: Your Choice: Pesci x Reader (2.3k words)

You sat alone in your apartment, waiting for Pesci to arrive so the two of you could spend the evening together, and just relax in each other’s company. But your boyfriend wasn’t showing Where was he? You might wonder that if you hadn’t just gotten a call from him saying he’d be another two hours. Apparently, Prosciutto was giving him a long lecture about all of his shortcomings regarding the most recent hit. You sat and waited. 

You and Pesci joined La Squadra together at the same time as a couple, and overall, it was a pretty sweet gig. Once you had gotten over the hurdle of ending another person’s life, you began to see that the teammates were friendly enough, the pay wasn’t great for Passione standards but not bad, and your Capo, Risotto, was fair-minded. Almost too fair-minded, in that he. allowed you and Pesci to go on hits together, but he also had Prosciutto to go with you two as a mentor for Pesci, who still hadn’t yet jumped over that first quintessential hurdle. It sucked. It was like the two of you were nothing more than babies to the other members of the squad, and Prosciutto had been designated as the babysitter. 

You wouldn’t hate it so much if you actually liked Prosciutto. But you didn’t like him. You couldn’t stand him, or the way he treated Pesci. In many ways, Pesci’s stand was more powerful than his mentor’s. Beach Boy was more direct, more discreet, faster, more effective in killing and even had fewer weaknesses than the Grateful Dead. The only thing holding Pesci back was his lack of self-confidence, and that certainly wasn’t going to get better if Prosciutto kept insulting him all the damn time! You were sick of it. You loved Pesci as he was, however sensitive and nervous he may be. But you were as much a newbie as he was, so you had no say in the matter. 

You refocused once you heard a knock come to the front door, Pesci was finally here. You opened the door, immediately wrapping your arms around him, but the young assessing remained frozen in his spot. 

“Hey (y/n)...” 

Pesci muttered before hanging his coat up and heading straight to bed, but you weren’t having any of this. Cutting him off before he could leave the living room, you placed a soft hand on his chest. 

“How was the meeting with Pros?” 

“(y/n), I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“No, you do wanna, because I do. Did he yell at you again?”

Pesci sighed. “Yeah, of course, he did.”

You shook your head. “That motherfucker... was it helpful yelling?” 

Pesci shrugged a bit before you raised your eyebrows at him, and he shrugged again. “Yes? No? I don’t know! What do you want from me (y/n)? He’s out superior! And besides this is just the mentoring I need I guess. You think Formaggio needed to be babied when he first joined? Or Ghiaccio? Or Mel? No, they probably didn’t. But I do, that’s just the way I’m gonna learn to live like this. It’s tough love.”

“Pesci, sweetie, yelling at you and punching is not tough love... you’re never gonna improve if he keeps knocking you down!”

Pesci stood there, looking down at you from his immense height. It was too bad for however tall he was, he certainly didn’t act like it. After a few moments of consideration, the shy mafioso walked past you without a word, heading to his bedroom while you remained in the living room. After giving him an hour, you entered the bedroom to see Pesci sitting hunched over at the edge of the bed, staring out the window. You went to sit next to him, seeing his tear-filled eyes and red cheeks, and you sighed. 

“I’m sorry Pesci... I didn’t mean to get mad like that. I just can’t stand he treats you.”

Pesci nodded slowly. “Yeah... I can’t either. He’s a good guy though. Helped us move into this apartment when we were starting out.” 

You couldn’t argue with that. “He gave us half his pay from hits when we weren’t allowed on hits yet.”

“Yeah... I just gotta get over it you know? It’s my job (y/n), and people are relying on me to do my job.”

You smile a little, leaning on your boyfriend’s shoulder. “What’d Formi say? Something like ‘killing ain't no different from being a chef in a restaurant or driving a cab. Someone wants it done, and if they pay, someone will do it for them.’”

Pesci nodded. “Yup... simple as that.”

When the two of you fell asleep, you promised Pesci you’d stick up for him next chance you got.

- - - - 

The next group meeting came around, and Pesci was nervous to see Prosciutto. He always managed to embarrass him at one of these things, and then claim it as tough love afterward. On the drive to the hideout, you could see his hands shaking at the steering wheel. 

When you finally entered the hideout, hand in hand with your boyfriend, a certain masked assassin couldn’t help his wandering gaze over your body. 

“(y/n), you doing anything different lately? Your legs are looking better than usual in that skirt of yours.”

You glared over at Melone, annoyed at his lack of shame. “Can it Mel. If you weren’t a teammate I would have beat your sorry ass by now.” 

Prosciutto clicked his tongue, his attention directed at you for your disrespectful remark. “The hell are you on that you think you can talk to him like that? If anyone’s got a sorry ass in this group, it’s you for being so sensitive. Melone always says shit like that.” 

Melone pouted. “Not always. Only when they deserve it-”

You snapped at him, still staring at Pros. “Shut the fuck up Melone.”

Prosciutto stood up from his seat, walking slowly towards you, eye to eye until you strained your neck looking up at him. “Where do you get off talking like that sweetheart?” 

“Don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Melone over there has been in this group before you were old enough to move out of your mamma’s house alright? You got no right saying shit like that to him.” 

Snarling, you kept eye contact with the blond. “Oh I’m sorry, does this concern you Prosciutto? Cause I hadn’t said a word to you the entire fucking time until you decided to butt in like you do with everything.”

“You’re my crony until Risotto lets you on hits of your own. I’m in charge of how you act. And Pesci-”

Prosciutto turned to Pesci, who had been nervously sitting in his spot on the couch, not wanting to join in the argument. “Y-yeah bro?” 

“If you were a real man and not a total mammoni, you wouldn’t let your girl act like this, nor would you let her dress like this, practically inviting comments like that. Have some self-respect moron, and reel your girl in.” 

Pesci nodded quickly. “Yeah... I will.” He muttered, looking down at his lap. 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “No, you know what? Fuck that! That man was up all week with you for a hit. You know what Pesci told me a couple weeks ago?! He comes back complaining to me that-”

“Wait (y/n) don’t-”

“No. He comes back complaining to me about how you would send him out to do reconnaissance for a hit while you would go spend time with whatever fidanzata you got laying around. You tell him to reel me in, maybe have the decency commit to one person instead of leading these poor girls on all the time.”

Risotto glanced over at Prosciutto, annoyed. “Is that true? Do you leave him alone on missions?” 

Prosciutto turned to Pesci, a deep frown on his face. “Figlio un’ Puttana, I told you not to tell anyone!” 

Pesci flinched back. “I’m sorry, I only told (y/n)! I didn’t think she would ever mention anything about it!” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t apologize Pesci. He doesn’t deserve it for the way he treats you.” 

Prosciutto grabbed your arm in a tight grip, preventing you from stepping back from him. “Excuse me? What do you mean?” 

“How the hell is Pesci going to get any good at what he’s supposed to do if you’re constantly downing him huh? Ever thought maybe he’d be confident enough to do his job if you weren’t breathing down his neck so fucking much!” 

“Oh get over yourself (y/n)! You’re as much of newbie as he is! You kill one man and think you’re capo. Besides, it’s what Pesci needs if he wants to be in this group anyway.” 

You thought for a moment, wondering how you should respond. You couldn’t argue with him, you were still a rookie. After a few moments of tense silence amongst the group, you turned to Prosciutto again. 

“Fine! You know what? If you’re gonna treat Pesci and I like this, then we’ll leave the group? How about that huh?” 

Pesci looked at you shocked. “Wait what?” 

Prosciutto burst out laughing, keeping his hand tightly on your arm. “Oh, oh, that’s rich! That’s fucking rich. I don’t think you understand dolcezza, you can’t just leave this little gig of ours. You’re stuck here. Right Ris?” 

Risotto thought on the other’s words before shaking his head. “No. (y/n) and Pesci sought out Passione on their own free wills. They don’t owe this organization, or La Squadra any debt, so if they swear on their lives not to speak a word about us, they can go free.” 

Smiling at such words, you turned to Prosciutto with a huff before nudging out of his grip. “Come on Pesci, we’re leaving.”  

You grabbed your boyfriend’s hand, pulling him up from the coach and stomping towards the door. Looking back, Pesci made eye contact with Prosciutto, who spoke before the two of you left. 

“Make a decision for your damn self Pesci. She’s controlling you just as much as I am right now.” 

Pesci stood there, frozen in his spot, looking around as the whole squad stared at him to make a decision. His heart rate skyrocketed, his palms grew sweaty. He really didn’t like being made the center of attention like this.

You kept tugging at Pesci’s arm. “Come on Pesci, let’s go! We don't need them.”

Prosciutto kept calm. “The choice is yours, Pesci.” 

Pesci looked between the two of you, shaking as he stood there. No one else spoke for either side. This was his choice to make. Finally, he shook off your grip, looking down at you as you looked up at him in surprise. 

“Pesci, what...?”

“I don’t know if you realize (y/n), but... We do need them. We need these guys. We ran away from home together, and our families disowned us, and these guys took us in when we asked. And I don’t like how you yell at them when they’ve given us money to support ourselves, more money we ever would’ve gotten otherwise. So what if he’s been mean to me? Don’t act like you were one hundred percent on board with killing from the start. You’re not perfect (y/n), you had to be yelled at too. So don’t act all high and mighty and claim you’re doing this for me alright? I wanna stay, so I’m gonna stay. If you love me as much as you tell me you do, you’ll stay too.” 

A tense air filled the room, everyone (even Pesci) surprised that the young member of the team could stick up for himself like that. You gulped, looking your boyfriend up and down, realizing how much you wanted to be with him. But at that moment, you were speechless, so you shyly nodded your head and walked back to the couch and sat down while Pesci and Prosciutto remained standing. 

The moment you sat down, Prosciutto breathed a heavy sigh and went to Pesci to give him a pat on the back for what he said.

“Good work Pesc-”

“But as for you, bro, I-I don’t like the way you talk to (y/n) and I, and I don’t like the way you baby me on hits. Now, you’re gonna allow me and (y/n) to go on a hit by ourselves, without you, and I guarantee you that I will kill whoever you want with my own two hands. If I don’t, baby me all you want. But I will kill him, and prove that I’m not the momma’s boy you think I am.” 

Prosciutto took a step back, more surprised than anyone at what the other man just said. He turned back slowly to Risotto, asking quietly what he should do. Risotto thought for a moment before nodding. Pros turned back to you and Pesci. “Fine. There’s a hit in Milan this Wednesday. You two go on it yourselves.”

With that, the two men sat down, and Risotto began the meeting. You reached over next to you to hold Pesci’s hand, and he held in a confident grip. Turning your head, you shared a look with Prosciutto at the other edge of the room, the two of you now with greater mutual respect for one another, and shared respect for Pesci after he managed to put both of you in your place. You promised yourself to not speak for Pesci, and Prosciutto told himself to be more encouraging. 

That Wednesday came around, and with only a little hesitation, Pesci killed a man for the first time. Without Beach Boy, with his two bare hands. When the two of you came back to the hideout the next day, Prosciutto personally made a toast to the successful hit, giving Pesci a heartfelt pat on the back.

#jjba #part 5 #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #vento aureo #pesci #fem reader #prosciutto #request #requests open #jjba writing #jjba hc