#anasui jojo

Yes, ofc ! I did this more in a hc format than a fic format, but I hope you enjoy ! Sorry this took so long 😭

Sub!Anasui x reader

Summary ᯓ★

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ A series of bratty sub Anasui who also happens to be kind of a masochist

- Contains NSFW content

Anasui loves to be a brat. He loves it even more when you punish him for it. He does it on purpose; Anasui knows just how to push your buttons and what's enough to make you explode.

Anasui loves when you tug on his long pink strands, forcing his head up to look at you, or when he's pleasing you and you intertwine your finger with his hair, tugging it in order to get a small break from the constant abuse of his tongue on your clit.

Anasui, who whines when you barely touch him. He begs for you to give him more, just the smallest touch, just one kiss. His eyes dart between your face and the last spot you touched. He knows better than to rush you, though. He knows that if he does, you'll stop whatever you're doing and leave him to imagine what he could've had.

Anasui tries to keep his teasing to a minimum, but he can't help it. He loves to send risky photos, watching as you come home with your face flushed.

Anasui likes it best when you tie his wrists together.

Anasui, who likes when you're in between his legs using your thumb to flick at his overly sensitive nipples. Sweat forming on his forehead, hair now tied in what used to be a ponytail, the band sliding down each time you tug at it or when he's throwing his back.

Anasui is hot; his cheeks are dusted with a light peachy color, and his eyes are screwed shut. He wouldn't have it another way. He loves the way you take control, using him as you please.

He doesn't mind how you call him pathetic for cumming so soon and how you look disgusted with his own cum being displayed across his stomach and on your hands. "You're truly pathetic; couldn't hold it one more minute?"

After the two of you are all done. You flood him with praise, telling him how good he did and how well he was able to communicate his needs.

@dearjotaro

take your time and I really am a big fan of your works!

~🍊 anon

CHATTTT IS THIS A NEW ANON!!! 🤭🤭🤭🤭

Tags: Gender neutral reader, SFW and eventual fluff

You didn’t expect to become Anasui’s wingman.

The first time he came to you with that wild look in his eyes - talking about destiny, about him and Jolyne being “fated” - you thought he was joking. But a week later, you’re crouched behind a cell block door, whispering instructions while he rehearses a dramatic “chance” encounter.

“Okay, she’s coming!” you hiss, peeking around the corner. “Just lean casually, don’t-”

He immediately throws himself against the wall like a model in a prison fashion magazine. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

To his credit, Jolyne does stop. You hear her say something sarcastic before walking past him, her boots echoing against the corridor. Anasui looks heartbroken for approximately two seconds before turning to you with fire in his eyes.

“We’re getting closer,” he says. “I can feel it.”

Helping him becomes a strange kind of hobby. You start orchestrating small moments - “forgotten” items you convince Jolyne to return to him, subtle nudges that make their paths cross more often. But the more time you spend around him, the more you notice his rare moments of softness - how he talks about wanting to protect her, not just possess her.

One evening, while you’re sketching out another “coincidence plot,” he looks at you seriously. “You really believe in me, don’t you?”

The question catches you off guard. Maybe you do. Maybe, against all logic, you want to see him happy - even if it means conspiring in something doomed and a little ridiculous.

You smile. “I believe in good planning,” you reply.

He grins, already plotting the next move, and you can’t tell anymore if you’re helping him or if he’s pulling you into his own whirlwind orbit.

You met Anasui long before Jolyne ever stepped into Green Dolphin Street Prison.

Back then, he wasn’t the unpredictable, obsessive man he is now - just a strange, quiet inmate who kept to himself and spent a lot of time disassembling things. You were another prisoner with a knack for getting into trouble but a sharp mind for getting out of it. Maybe that’s what drew you together: two people who saw patterns where others saw chaos.

It started with a favor. Anasui had been tinkering with Diver Down, learning its limits. You offered to help him test it - figuring out how deep he could phase, how long an object could hold energy. The experiments turned into conversations, and somehow, he started telling you things he didn’t tell anyone else. He never outright admitted it, but it was easy to see how badly he wanted redemption for what he’d done in his past life.

In you, he found someone who didn’t flinch at his intensity. You respected his genius and treated him like a person instead of a ticking bomb. And in return, Anasui protected you in the twisted ecosystem of the prison. You had his back, and he had yours - an unspoken rule.

So when Jolyne arrived, and Anasui became instantly, obsessively smitten, you didn’t laugh or tell him to give up. You just sighed, crossed your arms, and said, “Fine. But if you’re doing this, we’re doing it smartly.”

That’s how you became co-conspirators - friends first, but bound by something deeper: the understanding that you both needed a little bit of hope, even if it came in strange forms.

The plan had started to work - at least in theory. Jolyne was talking to Anasui more, mostly because of the small interventions you’d engineered. Every “coincidental” meeting, every shared moment of teamwork, was your handiwork.

But lately Anasui was acting differently around you.

It wasn’t just the way he stood too close when discussing strategy or how his gaze lingered on you longer than it should have. It was how quick he was to snap when things didn’t go perfectly, as if your loyalty came with conditions you hadn’t known existed.

“You told me she’d walk this path,” he hissed one afternoon, Diver Down’s aura flickering faintly beside him. “I waited twenty minutes, and she never came.”

You swallowed the urge to snap back. “She got held up, Anasui. This isn’t a script - I can’t control reality.”

His jaw tensed. “You could if you wanted to.”

The words hit deeper than they should have. You’d done everything - you’d lied, plotted, and played mediator for him. Yet somehow it was never enough.

“What exactly do you want from me?” you asked quietly.

He looked at you for a long time, the edge in his posture softening just enough to show something raw underneath. “I want you to believe this isn’t just a game,” he said, voice low. “You’ve been helping me so much I almost forget why sometimes.”

You stared at him, heartbeat uneven. Maybe it wasn’t just about Jolyne anymore. Maybe the lines had already started to blur - the ones between friendship and fixation, loyalty and love.

And for the first time, you couldn’t tell who was really being manipulated.

It happened after another failed plan. Jolyne had brushed him off again, politely but firmly. Anasui stayed silent all the way back to the cell block, eyes clouded with something heavy and unreadable.

You followed, ready with some half-hearted reassurance, but as soon as the door shut behind you, he spoke.

“Why are you still doing this?”

His tone wasn’t accusing. It was almost desperate.

“Because you asked me to,” you replied, trying to keep your voice calm.

“That’s not an answer.” He turned toward you, Diver Down materializing halfway before fading again. “I’ve dragged you into this mess, made you plan every stupid thing, and you never once left. Why?”

You wanted to tell him it was because you believed in love, or because you pitied him - but that wasn’t the truth. Somewhere between the planning and the quiet moments, you’d started caring about him, not just his goal.

“Maybe because… you needed someone,” you said softly. “And I didn’t want you to fall apart.”

For a long time, neither of you moved. Then Anasui stepped closer, slow and hesitant for once. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“You don’t get it - every time you help me talk to her, every time I see you walk away after… I start wishing it was you instead.”

Your breath caught. You had known something like this was coming, but hearing it shattered the fragile balance you’d been keeping. His hand - warm, trembling - hovered near yours, waiting for permission that never came.

“Anasui,” you said finally, voice barely steady, “if you mean that, then you have to stop chasing someone else.”

He looked at you as if you’d just offered him both salvation and damnation at once. Then, quietly, he said, “Then stay - because if you do, maybe I can.”

The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable, but it was real. Two people trapped by circumstance, maybe even by each other, standing in the tiny space between ruin and something that could almost be love.

You don’t answer him right away.

The words hang between you, heavier than the prison air, heavier than all the schemes you’ve stacked on top of each other. Anasui watches you like the outcome of this moment is life or death - and maybe, for him, it is.

“Stay,” he’d said. As if it were that easy. As if Jolyne, the plans, Pucci, the whole warped future didn’t exist.

“I can’t just walk away from everything,” you finally whisper. “You love her. You’ve risked your life for her more times than I can count.”

His eyes flicker, something dark and stubborn burning there. “I thought she was the only thing that could fix me,” he says. “But you’re the one who stayed when I was still broken.”

You swallow hard. “That doesn’t mean I know what to do with you.”

In the days that follow, you don’t call it a relationship. There are no labels in Green Dolphin Street - only secrets and survival.

Still, things change. Anasui walks a step closer to you than before. When Jolyne is around, he reins himself in, his obsessive declarations quieter, less frequent, as if he’s suddenly aware of how loud they really are.

One night, you sit together in a dim corner of the common area, pretending to be uninterested in anything but the floor. His shoulder brushes yours, carefully, like he’s testing the shape of a new reality.

“I’m still going to protect her,” he murmurs. “I owe her that. But I’m not chasing something that was never mine anymore.”

You let yourself lean back, just a little, feeling the warmth of him at your side. “So what are you chasing now?”

He doesn’t look at you, but his fingers curl around yours under the table, hidden from everyone else. “You,” he says. “If you’ll let me.”

Even with that quiet admission, the tension doesn’t vanish.

Sometimes you catch him staring at Jolyne in battle, admiration burning in his eyes, and something ugly twists in your chest. You know that devotion is part of who he is - this reckless, all-or-nothing loyalty that once belonged to her alone.

Later, when you’re alone, you say, “You still look at her like she hung the moon.”

He meets your gaze, unflinching. “I look at her like she saved my life,” he answers. “I look at you like you gave me a reason to live it.”

It’s not perfect. It’s not clean. It’s not the kind of love story that exists outside steel bars and Stand battles.

But when his hand finds yours again in the dark, and he doesn’t ask you to promise anything except that you won’t disappear, you realize that maybe, in this warped little corner of the world, that’s enough - for now.

It starts on a rare quiet afternoon, when no alarms are blaring and no one is trying to kill you.

Jolyne is sitting on a low step in the yard, elbows on her knees, idly twirling a strand of her hair into a loose braid. You sink down beside her with a tired sigh, the kind that feels like it comes from your bones.

“You look like hell,” she says, not unkindly.

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, but there’s no real bite in it.

For a while, you sit in silence, watching guards pace the perimeter. The usual background noise of the prison hums around you, distant and muffled, as if you’ve both stepped outside of it for a moment.

“So,” Jolyne says eventually, “are you and Anasui fighting or something?”

Your heart nearly stops. “What?”

She gives you a look, brows raised. “He’s been weird. Well - weirder. Quieter when you’re around. Watchful. Like he’s waiting for you to disappear.”

You huff out a laugh that doesn’t quite land. “That’s just how he is.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “How he is is dramatic and loud and ready to throw himself in front of a bullet if I blink at him wrong. The way he is with you is… different.”

Her words land like a stone in your stomach. You stare at the ground, tracing invisible patterns with your shoe.

“You know he used to never shut up about me,” Jolyne continues, tone oddly gentle. “Marriage this, destiny that. At first I thought he was just insane. Then I thought… maybe that’s just how he loves. Too much all at once.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” you murmur.

“I know,” she replies. “That’s not the point.” She nudges your shoulder with hers. “Lately, when he talks like that, it’s… less.”

“Less?”

“Less about me. More about… us as a group. About keeping everyone alive. About you.”

Your chest tightens. “He talks about me?”

Jolyne scoffs softly. “Constantly. Half the time I feel like I know what you’re thinking before you say it because he’s already told me how ‘sharp’ and ‘reliable’ you are.” She mimics his dramatic emphasis just enough to make you wince.

“I thought you hated it,” you say suddenly. “The way he followed you. The way I helped him get closer.”

Jolyne’s expression softens in a way you don’t see often. “I didn’t hate it. It was just… a lot. And I never asked for it.” She pauses. “But I did notice something.”

You look up, wary. “What?”

“Whenever things got really bad, he didn’t look at me first,” she says quietly. “He looked at you. To see if you were okay. To see what to do next.”

The memory rushes back: fights, chaos, blood, and in the middle of it, Anasui’s eyes flicking to you for the smallest nod, the quickest plan. You’d thought it was just habit, just teamwork.

“You care about him too,” Jolyne adds. “More than a strategist. More than a friend playing matchmaker.”

You open your mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out. Instead, you feel the weight of everything you’ve done - every plan, every lie, every risk you took just because he asked.

“You know what it looked like from the outside?” Jolyne asks.

“A disaster?” you mutter.

She actually laughs. “Yeah. But also like… two people orbiting the same star and pretending they’re not pulled toward each other.”

You look at her sharply. “He was orbiting you.”

“At first,” she says. “But people move. Feelings move. The question is whether you’re going to keep pretending you’re just watching from the sidelines.”

Something in your chest cracks at that - quietly, cleanly. You think of his confession, of his shaking hand hovering near yours, of the way he says your name like it’s an anchor.

“I was so busy trying to help him get what he wanted,” you whisper, “that I didn’t notice when what he wanted… changed.”

Jolyne nudges you again, softer this time. “Maybe you did notice. Maybe you were just too scared to admit you wanted it too.”

You stare at her, throat tight. “And you’re… okay with that? With him - shifting focus?”

Jolyne shrugs, looking out over the yard. “He’s his own person. So are you. I never promised him anything. I never wanted him to throw his life away for me.”

She tilts her head, studying you. “But if he’s finally found someone who can look him in the eye and not run away from how intense he is… maybe that’s not the worst thing.”

Your eyes sting, and you blink hard. “I don’t even know how to tell him.”

Jolyne gives you a crooked, knowing smile. “You don’t have to be as dramatic as he is. Just stop pretending you don’t already care. He’ll do the rest, trust me.”

You breathe out, slow and shaky. For the first time, the guilt loosens its grip on you. What’s left is fear, yes - but beneath it, something warmer, steadier.

“Thanks,” you say quietly. “For not… hating me for this.”

Jolyne stands, stretching her arms over her head. “If you make him less of a reckless idiot, you’ll be doing me a favor,” she says. Then, more softly, “And if he hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.”

You laugh, surprised and real. As she walks away, you realize she didn’t just give you permission. She gave you clarity - about him, and about yourself.

By the time you stand up, there’s only one thought echoing in your mind:

You don’t just care about Anasui.

Cunt