CW; bully!jotaro, non con, Dom!jotaro, AFAB!fem!sub!reader, degradation, hickeys, collars, possessiveness, leashes, humiliation, rape but you’re into it, daddy!jotaro, daddy kink, DDLG but no age regression just the dynamics
Bully!jotaro who leaves deep, dark bruise marks all across your dainty neck from how he chokes the fuck out of you. His hand is around your throat while he rapes you, while he has you sat in his lap and cockwarm him, even while he cuddles you after you’re completely defiled by him; you’re never without the sore, achy bruises on your throat from Jotaro Kujo.
He tugs you up onto the rooftop with the threat of a knife through your guts if you didn’t obey (as usual), but you go without complaints, already knowing that it’s better to just get it out of the way and you could never, never fight him. Once you’re both there, he sits on the floor, grabbing you and shoving you into his lap, stroking your hair out of your eyes and laughing cruelly when you flinch.
“Daddy got you a present, little girl,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket. Your eyes widen and you shake like a little leaf- last time he got you a ‘present’, it was a pastel purple nine tail whip that he used to beat your ass until you bled and cried out for daddy to stop hurting you. You watch as he pulls out whatever the gift is, slightly relieved when the object is hidden by the grip of his massive hands; as big as Jotaro’s fists are, they aren’t big enough to hide another whip, so at least it’s not that.
He drops the object into your lap, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Is that...?
“A collar. You want to cover up the marks on your neck, don’t you? Or else people will know you’re a rapeslut.” His tone is sadistic and he seems proud of himself. The collar is a sturdy leather with a soft lining where it wraps around your neck, a stark black that looks expensive, studded with gold stars and thin, delicate gold chains. There’s an O-ring in the centre, a heavy, strong one engraved with the initials ‘KJ’, and the collar fixes with a locked padlock at the back, the little key still in the lock. You’re confused- why has he given you a dog collar? Although it’s awfully thick for a dog collar, and why would it have the O-ring and initials and... oh god. It’s a BDSM collar. And he wants you to wear it all the time.
“Jotaro- I- I can’t wear this, it’s a BDSM collar, people will think I’m weird and-“ You’re interrupted by a sharp slap to your face, Jotaro’s hand grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“You address me as daddy. And you will wear it, princess, because you’re property and you need to be marked as such,” he picks up the collar and places it in your hands. “Now be a good girl and put it on.”
It feels strangely comforting when you fasten the pleather around your neck, the pressure it gives to the hickeys littered on the skin sending a delicious stinging pain down to your pussy. Fuck, fuck, no, he hasn’t turned you into a masochist, has he?
You realise (with his cock stuffed down your throat and a leash on your new keeping you pressed against his balls, and his coos of daddy’s cumdump and stupid bitch) that he has absolutely turned you into a masochist.
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