jjba x reader oneshots (requests open!)

🍋Prosciutto x Fem!Reader | Protection

HIHIHIHIHIHIHI 

IM BACK 

GUYS YOU WILL GET UPDATES AGAIN I PROMISE OK

Prosciutto is literally a Russian you guys cannot convince me otherwise and if you push it then SO IS GHIACCIO

------

Some would rightfully call this a punishment. But he knows better. (Y/n) (L/n) is an angel...

His angel.

Risotto is speaking to him from the other side of his desk, but Prosciutto's attention is captured by the beautiful scene taking place just outside the arched window, over his shoulder.

You're out for your daily swim, splashing around and jumping off your diving board in some flimsy yellow two-piece. Occupying the borderline-manor your father had granted meant that he was privy to all of your daily routines-- though that of course meant the rest of the team was as well. 

As you jump, your figure is carved against the sun and each aspect of your body is highlighted against the evening, musical laughter reaching through the window pane to fill the office like the sound of songbirds.

Your chest becomes free of the material beneath the water. He knows this even if he can't see it. He'd love nothing more than to just rip you from the water and bend you over one of those stupid boards, those ridiculous yellow triangles hanging from his teeth.

Impatience gnaws at him, soon.

His fingers twitch where they rest on his thighs, picturing the strings of your top caught between them. Snapping them open instead of tying them securely as he'd done nearly half an hour ago.

"Prosciutto, could you tie me up, please?"

He adores how his name trips over your tongue. A groan kindled in his throat, and yes, many, many people would-- and have called this a punishment. Illuso teases him everyday.

To be the full-time bodyguard to a tempting brat who comes to him with her every whim and demand, giving him big pleading eyes, then very grateful ones when he fulfills them.

"As you know from last week's briefing, the boss is looking to relocate her. His other daughter is being taken care of by Bucciarati's team, so we can focus on (Y/n) solely." Prosciutto nods absently, each word smoothing right over his head. 

His focus is strongly attached to angel prancing around outside. "Prosciutto," His attention snaps back to his boss like a whip. "She doesn't care for anyone else to watch over her, so I'm counting on you."

He's done this for going on a year now, maybe a pinch more. He could survive however many days the boss needs protection for his daughter before he cracks under the release of his contract.

In exchange for the boss pulling strings to bring his family to Italy over from Russia, Prosciutto pledged loyalty and fell into the operator team.

When he came to Italy, his accent preceded him, the judgement from anyone who'd heard it had their correct assumptions. His acts in his homeland, they well gave him the experience to succeed in the famiglia. 

Among his duties as Risotto's right-hand, he had been specially tasked to care for you. Of course, this was the object of the whole team, but Risotto recognized your preference to the man and played into it to satisfy you. If he did a good job, maybe they'd get a raise. 

He had performed his job well, as good as any hit, operating smoothly, cleanly, with detached interest (apparently). A weaker man would've given into his temptation, perhaps even by the first month, and bedded you. Sneak around while he slept and creep into your room, taking you there and claiming your perfection for his own.