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moodys-art · 4 years

Note

Hello! May I ask for Bucci gang hcs with a sick s/o? Have a nice day💕

Hi, I did my best but forgive me if it’s not very original ! I think I’ve already seen this kind of hcs in some tags, so I hope it’s not too similar.

I got a little bit lost in the end, so I didn’t write Trish (ran out a bit of energy) but I will write a Trish x Reader thing in some time.

Under the cut for length :)

Headcanons for Bucci Gang dealing with a sick s/o

Bruno Bucciarati

His darling, sick ? No way ! Bruno always told you to cover up when you went out, especially this month, when the air was becoming so sharp and cold you swore it could almost get you cuts from just breathing.

When you get home from a mission, shivering like never, the first thing Bruno will do is to run you a bath. You will have no say in it. If Bruno wants you to relax, you will relax. No stress allowed, no flu allowed in this house ! After putting on comfy pajamas and leaving the bathroom, you will smell a delicious scent. Bruno made you dinner. It was healthy food, obviously, because now was not the time to mess around and get even sicker. You won’t have to worry, Bruno's got you. Before going to bed, he’ll kiss you on the forehead and tell you that everything is going to be okay.

Leone Abbacchio

You realised you were sick when you got up from your bed in the middle of one night, bothered by a very bitter taste lingering in your mouth. You did not wait and ran straight to the toilet, giving back your dinner from last evening.

As Abbacchio is a light sleeper, he will come and check and you. When he’ll see you throwing up, he’ll just pull your hair up so you won’t have to make it all dirty. At the moment you’ll turn back towards him, he’ll already be grabbing a washcloth and pass it under water.

« Hey, y/n. Chin up. Tch. You still ate that weird expired tomato sauce yesterday, huh ? » He’ll wash your mouth and put the washcloth over the sink, and that’s when you’ll start to tear up. His eyes will shine with sharp concern and he’ll immediatly attract you against him, shushing you softly. As you tell him, with a shaking voice, that you hate throwing up, he will squeeze you tighter.

« Shh, it’s over. I’ll throw the tomato sauce. Hell, I will smash it into the nearest trashcan I find. »

Giorno Giovanna

« Oh, cara, you should have called me ! », he says when he gets back home from work and sees you shivering on the couch. You’re all bundled up in a comfy plaid and covers, and that makes Giorno swoon internally.

However, when he’ll put a hand on your forehead, you’ll see the worry on his face. « You’re burning up, y/n. Why don’t you get rid of the plaid ? ». You’ll tell him that you feel way too chilly everytime you try to get rid of your fluffy cocoon. Well, you should know that Giorno is having none of your crap. He understands what you’re going through, but fever is a tricky thing. It will make you feel like you’re shivering from cold when it’s actually your body fighting some virus or bacteria, and heating up way too much. He will convince you to get rid of your covers, and place a damp cloth on your shoulders and forehead. Giorno will call the doctor and comfort you until you’re back on track again.

Guido Mista

It happened overnight. You fell asleep on your bed, your hair still wet from your shower, water soaking your sheets. The window was wide open, and you were so tired from the last mission that the cold air didn’t even wake you up. When you opened your eyes the next morning though, you had the worst headache you ever had in your life. It was hurting so much that you almost couldn’t move without wincing.

« Mistaaa ! Y/n is dying ! », will cry Number 5 when the Pistols discover you.

« What ? Don’t say things like that, Number 5. My love is safe ! »

However, when he discovers you, lying motionless on the bed, not making a single sound, his heart will just jump out of his chest. You looked devoid of all life. When he’ll take a look at your face, relief will soothe his heart : you were in pain, but alive. Ow, he will ruffle through the whole bathroom to find you those precious headaches meds ! After calling the doctor, he will get you a hot drink and lend you his favourite sweater. Snuggles ensue.

Pannacotta Fugo

« Hey, I noticed you were coughing a lot lately. Is everything okay ? » When you’ll him you got sick, Fugo will immediatly head out to the drugstore to buy you some meds. He will awkwardly (but gently) pat your back when fits of cough happen. It’s late noon and you’re out of bed ? Oh, no. Fugo’s there to remember you that you need to take some breaks throughout the day : being sick is already exhausting for your body. If you’re feeling a bit upset as well, he will sit next to you and start to give your scalp a little attention. He’s surpinsingly good at that, and you will fall asleep in no time.

Narancia Ghirga

Narancia doesn’t like to see you in pain. He relates to you greatly, as being sick is one of the thing he hates the most. He doesn’t have good memories when it comes to sickness, and he knows what it’s like to feel like crap, more than the others.

He will whine to the team about how unwell you are and how it exhausts you so, so much. Eventually, the others will get tired of his whining. Narancia is not a baby, and if you are sick and need assistance, he’s completely able to help you, the others tell him. Narancia will bring you food and water, anything you need. He might even buy you some kind of plushee because he thinks it will comfort you greatly. If you ever sneeze really loud, he’ll get startled. But afterwards, you two will laugh about it.

#jjba headcanons #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #abbacchio x reader #mista x reader #fugo x reader #giorno x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure

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solar-pxwered · 3 years

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Besides Sinday Sunday, whatabout Sunday Funday

Imagine him babysitting a baby, like his friend's baby, or maybe side-job cuz he's in college because he got no choice 😭😭😭😭 any headcanons for it?

I have headcanons for EVERYTHING, dude. Everything.

1. Hired himself out as a babysitter because he thinks kids are cute and fun and he has all kinds of energy to spare so "I can keep kids entertained for hours!"

2. Had four kids at once one day and almost lost his mind. Fugo and Trish took pity and helped him out by making them lunch and taking them all to the park to wear them out so they would nap until the parents picked them up.

3. PICKS THE KIDS UP AND FLIES THEM AROUND OVER HIS HEAD AND MAKES AIRPLANE NOISES. The kids absolutely love this and always beg "Again, Rancha, again!"

4. He wear himself out every time and ends up crashing on the couch for hours when the kids are gone. But he looks happy.

5. On four kid day, he had them mess with Mista so many times. "Hey, go over and say his name four times, ok?"

6. Sits cross legged on the floor and lets the girls give him little braids and pony tails while they tell him about all kinds of things they like. One girl just played with his hair and named off all her favorite animals for like 30 whole minutes, which was literally every animal she could think of. Narancia would ask "What about *insert gross animal, reptile or insect here*?" and she would add it to the list because "All animals are my favorite!"

7. Actually, genuinely laughs when kids makes jokes that make no sense.

8. Can't handle dirty diapers. Holds them at arms length and runs to Trish. "Trish, pleeeeease, you know I have a sensitive stomach!" "Narancia, I watched you eat a cheese puff you swept up from under the fridge yesterday...your stomach is made of iron." "SENSITIVE NOSE THEN!"

9. Will engage in water gun fights with the boys and any girl who doesn't care if she gets her clothes wet. He is MERCILESS and the kids end up SOAKED while he barely ever gets hit.

10. Gives high fives to them when they leave with their parents and he has so many 5 star reviews on the babysitter website.

#Volare Via || Narancia

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risottoneroo · 4 years

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Can I ask for Bruno fingering his crush//S/O out for the first time,,, something soft to balance out all the other wild requests you must be getting lol

a/n: this is kinda a breath of fresh air considering how weird my inbox has gotten recently also OH GOD THIS IS SO LONG i got carried away sorry

warnings: smut, kinda fluffy, pre vento aureo

You knew a date with Bucciarati was a bad idea. You knew he would show up, but it was only to humor your aging mother. She’d begged him for weeks and weeks to take you on a date. She insisted you spent too much time inside, and after the third time you’d turned one of the local boys away, you had to admit she was, at least a little, right.

Still, he was a community figure. You knew he was a good man, but was he right for you? A mafioso?

You were sitting at a table at his favorite restaurant, dressed in a pretty red dress that accentuated your curves. You shifted uncomfortably, looking away for a second, When you looked back, he was standing behind the chair on the other side of the table. You jumped. “Bucciarati!”

He smiled gently at you, taking a seat. “Have you been waiting long?”

You shook your head. He nodded. “Good.”

You swallowed. “I’m sorry my mother was so persistent. She just-”

Bruno laughed. “Nothing to worry about. My squad has been telling me to get out and do something other than work too.”

You nodded. He took in your appearance. “And I must say, you look beautiful right now.”

You flushed. He smiled, producing a rose from nowhere. He put it in the vase in the middle of the table. “For you.”

You looked down. “You didn’t just agree to this for my mother’s sake, did you?”

Bruno shook his head. “No. Do you know how many old women beg me to date their daughters, or their sons sometimes?”

You looked up at him. “So why me?”

He shrugged. “None of their children have been as beautiful as you.”

You flushed deeper. “Bucciarati, you flatter me.”

He chuckled softly. “Call me Bruno.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

The rest of dinner was spent in pleasant conversation about Bruno and his life, and about your studies as a college student. You were fascinated by his stories of his squad. They seemed so animated.

Bruno seemed to like hearing about your escapades with the local boys, all the funny ways you’d rejected dates. He was still laughing as he walked you home. “You didn’t really kick him in the knee, did you?”

You shrugged, smiling. “Well, he wouldn’t leave me alone!!”

Bruno chuckled. “You are a handful.”

You looked up at him coyly. “Well, you have big hands.”

Brun looked down at his hands. “So you’ve been thinking about my hands.”

You felt the mood shift a bit. Bruno was smirking a bit. You bit your lip. “Yes.”

He held one out to you. “Anything in particular?”

You flushed as he stepped in a bit closer. He took one of your hands in his own. His hands were warm and broad, long-fingered. He kissed the back of your hand gently. “Maybe this?”

You licked your lips. “Somewhere else.”

Bruno’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”

His hands slid to your waist, holding you close. “Here?”

You nodded. He smiled and leaned in, his breath washing over your lips. “Here?”

You nodded again, and he kissed you gently. You could feel the heat behind it, and it turned you on. You pressed closer to him, your hands sliding around his neck. You could feel him, hot and hard against your stomach. His hand slid down to your ass, cupping it gently. His tongue slid into your mouth, and you moaned, pulling back.

He groaned. “Is your mother home?”

You nodded. He sighed. “Damn. We have to go to my place.”

Your face heated up. “Are we going to-?”

He looked at you. “Unless you don’t want to. Your mother said you were a virgin.”

You flushed dark red. “Wh-What?”

He chuckled. “It was one of your main selling points.”

You rolled your eyes. “Bitch.”

He chuckled again, hiding his mouth. “So you are?”

You bit your lip. “I’ve never really even had a boyfriend.”

He nodded. “I’ll be nice.”

You nodded. “I do want to. With you.”

Bruno smiled. “Then come with me.”

He took your hand and led you a few streets down. A large house with all the lights on stood with a view of the ocean. You smiled. “Looks like they’re awake.”

Bruno sighed. “Well.”

He opened the door to a large living space. A TV stood on a bureau, and two kids sat in front of it. Both were playing a racing game. One was dressed in blue and red. Mista. The other was in a black tank top. Narancia. A different kid, in green pajamas, was lounging on the couch reading. Fugo.

Narancia whined. “Mista, quit winning!”

Mista laughed. “You just suck! Get over it.”

Fugo cast an irritated look at both of them. “If you two don’t shut up-”

Bruno stepped in. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

They looked up in shock. Narancia swallowed. “Bucciarati!”

Mista peered around him, looking at you. “Who’s the chick?”

Bruno sighed. “My lovely date. Who I’d hoped to bring home to a peaceful house, without my bickering subordinates.”

Mista shrugged. “We pay rent.”

Narancia laughed. “You pay rent. We’re here for free.”

Mista punched him, and Fugo threw a book at him. You winced. “That’ll leave a mark.”

Their attention was immediately on him. Narancia smiled at you. “Bucciarati has good taste.”

Mista piped up. “Are you gonna fuck her, Bucciarati?”

Fugo sighed. “Don’t be stupid. Let’s just go to bed and let them have it.”

They trooped off the bed, leaving you and Bruno alone in the room. He sat on the couch and patted his leg. “Come sit.”

You obeyed, wrapping your arms around his neck. He smiled up at you. “Are you still sure?”

You nodded, and he kissed you gently. “So beautiful.”

You shifted to straddle him. He was still hard against you, and you ground down on him. A strangled groan escaped him, and he gripped your ass. He broke the kiss. “I-It’s been a while. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, Bruno.”

You took his hand and guided it under your skirt. He bit his lip, feeling your soaked panties. “Oh? All for me?”

You nodded. He slid your panties aside, feeling your slickness. You whined into his shoulder, your hips bucking. “Touch me, Bruno.”

He sighed. “So sexy.”

His fingers found your clit, swirling around it in tight, slick circles. You whimpered, shaking against him. He murmured, “So wet. So needy for me. Are you gonna cum?”

Embarrassingly enough, you were. He slid two fingers inside you, and you recoiled from the feeling. He stroked your hair. “Relax.”

He stroked his fingers forward, against your gspot. You clenched and went limp. “That’s- So good-”

His thumb found your clit and kept rubbing it as his long fingers rubbed that spot inside you. You shuddered against him, whimpering softly. He kissed your neck. “Cum for me, love.”

You clenched down, pussy pulsing around his fingers. You gushed cum onto his hands and suit pants, moaning into his shoulder. Your eyes rolled as he milked your orgasm.

Finally, you relaxed, and Bruno pulled his fingers out. He licked them off reverently. “Delicious.”

You blushed, and he smirked. “Feel up to continue?”

You nodded. Bruno licked his lips.

#jojo #my writing #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo kimyou na bouken #bruno #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #bruno x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno buccellati x reader #vento aureo #golden wind

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surelynotshirley · 3 years

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Narancia + GiorBuccia???

Cleaning out my Notion a little and found this WIP that is titled Narancia + GiorBuccia except I have no idea where I was going with this but I wrote enough that it’s a waste to let rot in my Notion

Fugo is, unsurprisingly, the first to notice the shift in Narancia's attitude.

The group is seated at a small and unassuming ristorante away from the general hubbub of the city. Abbacchio and Bucciarati still seem on-edge, peering over their shoulders every few bites. Trish is safe inside of Mr. President but for the few seconds that Fugo saw her when he went inside to give her her meal, her face was pallid and drawn. It's hard to blame her, considering all the attempts to grab her have ended in bloodshed and death.

Narancia may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but the gravity of the situation is clear to him. He was the first person in the group to face down a member of the Hitman Team, after all, and Fugo still remembers how he felt when Narancia tottered back from his shopping trip, skin burnt and bleeding.

And yet, now, he seems completely unaware of his surroundings. His face is slack, mouth vaguely open, like how he looks every time Fugo is trying to explain to him basic math or science. Narancia looks miles away from the world, and Fugo resists the urge to stamp a foot down on Narancia's toes, just to wake him back up again.

It wouldn't do for them to cause a scene. They, unfortunately, stand out too much as it is.

"Narancia, is something the matter?" Fugo asks, watching as the tomato and mozzarella drops off of Narancia's fork and onto the plate for the nth time. "You've barely touched your lunch."

Narancia practically jumps out of his skin and he whirls onto Fugo as if he's only noticing Fugo for the first time. The overreaction makes heat rise up in Fugo's throat but he stamps it down.

"Wh-What?" Narancia yelps, his voice several octaves too high.

"Hey, shut up over there," Abbacchio says sharply, and even Bucciarati gives the two of them a disapproving look.

Fugo swallows down his immediate indignation at the unfair treatment. Narancia's the one making a fuss, not him. He may have taken on Narancia as a student, but he's not his mom or anything.

"I apologize," Fugo says at the same time Narancia mutters, "Sorry."

Mollified, Abbacchio sips from his wine and continues his conversation with Bucciarati, who merely nods every once in a while. He's clearly distracted, looking every few seconds at Giorno, and he's not the only one. Mista is also sneaking peeks at him and now that Fugo is paying attention, he can understand why.

"Oi, Giorno, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Mista asks, gesturing wildly with his fork. A bit of pasta sauce sprays in the air but lands on the floor rather than the tablecloth or anyone's clothing.

Giorno looks up, blinking confusedly. He does not stop dipping his bruschetta into the minestrone.

"I'm dipping my bruschetta into the minestrone," he explains patiently, as if he's trying to teach a child to say 'please' and 'thank you.'

Mista bristles at the patronizing tone.

"Yeah, I can see that!" he snaps. "I'm not asking you what you're doing. I'm asking you what you think you're doing. How can you ruin good bruschetta like that? You're making a goddamn mess. You call yourself an Italian? You're no better than an American."

He's loud, practically spitting out his words, and Giorno shrinks back slightly. Not out of fear or apprehension, it seems, but more so that Mista's saliva doesn't get all over his food.

"It's too hard," Giorno says. He doesn't stop letting the bruschetta soak up the soup and Fugo watches in vague despair as bits of tomato floats into the liquid. He knows that Giorno is young, and that Giorno didn't exactly have the best upbringing, but his lack of basic table manners is embarrassing. "I'll break my tooth off on this bruschetta."

"That's how bruschetta is supposed to be!" Mista exclaims passionately. He picks up his own antipasti — a garlic focaccia — and shoves it into his mouth. As if he's really trying to prove a point to Giorno about Giorno's bruschetta by inhaling focaccia.

"Can't you use your Stand to make a new tooth?" Fugo asks.

"I can," Giorno says.

Fugo waits patiently for a bit more but Giorno seems to think that Fugo was satisfied by his answer and continues his horrible desecration of good Italian food.

"I can't watch this anymore," Mista says. He reaches out and snatches the bruschetta out of Giorno's hand, sighing despairingly at the wet texture of the bread. "Here, you can have my focaccia."

He shoves his half-eaten antipasti onto Giorno's plate and Giorno frowns.

"You already bit into this," he complains.

"Yeah, so? I brushed my teeth this morning."

Giorno fastidiously tears away at the parts that Mista had taken bites out of and starts to work on it. Thankfully, he doesn't dip the focaccia into the minestrone or wine or anything crazy. Mista has no qualms about sharing germs and simply stuffs the bruschetta into his mouth, chewing loudly.

Narancia gasps and when Fugo glances at him, he's covering his mouth with one hand, staring wide-eyed at the oblivious Mista. Now that he thinks about it, he was about to ask Narancia a question.

"Are you alright, Narancia?" Fugo asks, leaning forward to whisper the question into Narancia's ear. "Shh," he reminds him when Narancia jerks away. "You don't want to get yelled at again, do you?"

Narancia shakes his head. Bucciarati and Abbacchio, thankfully, didn't notice anything amiss this time. It's a little annoying that they didn't say anything to Mista and Giorno even though Mista was definitely causing a scene with his little rant, but there's something about Narancia's higher-pitched voice that carries on the wind. Fugo has confidence that he would be able to hear Narancia's yelling miles away.

"I'm fine," Narancia says. "Er...actually, yeah. I'm fine."

He absolutely does not look fine and the doubt must show on Fugo's face because Narancia scrunches up his nose in what he must think is an earnest expression.

"I see," Fugo says, feigning disinterest. He goes back to his meal and watches from the corner of his eye as Narancia breathes an obvious sigh of relief.

It's not as if Fugo plans on ever betraying Narancia but his straightforward honesty is a little worrying. Especially since Mista has a rather bad habit of spouting lies without any sense of guilt.

He observes Narancia as Narancia continues his meal. He stabs into his caprese salad but he never actually brings his fork up to his mouth. It's hanging open again, and Fugo resists the urge to slam the palm of his hand into Narancia's chin if only to make him close his mouth. Narancia's eyes are glazed over in thought — Fugo can practically hear the grinding of Narancia rubbing his two brain cells together — and he follows his gaze to see just what has Narancia's attention.

Giorno and Mista, despite Mista's earlier rebuke, are chatting contentedly over their meals. Now that Giorno is no longer massacring good bread, it seems that Mista's gotten over his bad mood, and he's laughing at his own joke while Giorno gives him a patient smile. Fugo wasn't paying attention to just what Mista said, but with the way Mista is cupping his palms in front of his chest, he doubts that it was anything worth listening to.

"Is there something wrong with Giorno and Mista?" Fugo asks, and he pre-emptively reaches out to slam his hand against Narancia's mouth as Narancia starts to inhale.

"MMGH," Narancia says, and Fugo presses the palm of his hand against Narancia's face even harder.

It unfortunately is not enough to stifle him. Abbacchio sighs, loudly and obviously, and drains the wine in his glass. Bucciarati gives Fugo a look that he saw teachers direct to some of the dumber students at university. Giorno and Mista turn as one to stare at them. Mista's mouth is still twisted in a half-smile and there's no telling just what emotion Giorno is feeling. His calm expression is the same as it always is.

"Fugo, Narancia, the two of you have been acting quite strange ever since we arrived in Venezia," Bucciarati says. He sets his fork and knife down, and steeples his fingers, settling his chin on them. It's a clear invitation. "Is there something you would like to say?"

Fugo didn't want to make Narancia say anything until he could confirm for himself that what Narnacia wants to share is worth sharing, but it's too late now. He removes his hand from Narancia's face and slaps his back in a reassuring gesture. Narancia coughs, hacking into his salad, as he struggles to catch his breath.

"Narancia here's the one who's acting strange. He hasn't eaten a single bite of his salad and he's clearly not paying any attention to his surroundings."

"Oi, Narancia, we're not done the mission yet," Abbacchio says sharply, as if he wasn't one of the people who suggested taking a quick break before finishing their escort mission and eating at a ristorante. "You can stare at clouds or whatever you want after we deliver Trish to the Boss."

"I wasn't staring at the clouds!" Narancia yells. He stabs a tomato with his fork and shoves it into his mouth, throwing them all a thumbs-up. "I was —"

He cuts himself off to grab a piece of mozzarella with his bare hands and eats it, chewing rapidly as if he thinks that the group would let him off the hook if they think he has his mouth full.

As if Mista and Abbacchio are that kind.

"Hey, hey, Narancia, were you thinking about Trish?" Mista says, hooking an arm around Narancia's shoulders.

"Gweh!" Narancia chokes and he hurriedly swallows.

Fugo leans against the table, sighing. Somehow, even though Fugo definitely spends more time with Narancia, it's always Mista who gets to pry secrets out of him. For some reason, Fugo was the last one of the group to learn about Narancia's secret crush on the local florist and he only heard about it after Narancia confessed and got turned down. Mista was the one who Narancia went to for advice, and it was Mista who insisted that Narancia even go for it in the first place.

If Fugo was the one Narancia talked to, he would never have given Narancia such awful advice. Yet another reason why Fugo really doesn't want Mista and Narancia hanging out with each other as much as they do.

#my writing #jjba #giorbuccia #what is the english ship name #for some reason this feels really fugonara too #i remember that it was supposed to be like #narancia mistaking mista and giorno to be together but really giorno and bucciarati are #i think that was it #but i can't really remember anymore #timing wise i think this is supposed to be after white album

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jotarosbelt · 4 years

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A Not-So-Silent Night. [Bucci Gang X Reader]

Hi! Merry Christmas!

Here’s my gift to you all! I will admit, it got sloppy at the end, but you know what, what can you do? 🤷🏽‍♀️

Enjoy! ❤️💚🎄

cw: gangbang, sex toys, facefucking/oral, double penetration, cream pie, facial

18+ content ahead! All characters are aged up as usual!

December 25th. Christmas Day— a day where one spends time with their family and appreciating the gift of giving.

However, you spent it with your friends. They were the equivalent of family to you, after all. It didn’t really matter and you didn’t give it to much though while you watched Narancia and Mista sing awful karaoke in the living room while you sipped on some champagne; the others either doing the same or talking to their next door neighbor seated next to them.

Giorno already hosted a Christmas party the other day, so for Christmas day, you all decided to just stay in and socialize among yourselves.

You started to space out as you brought your glass to your lips, staring idly into space before being brought back down to earth by a yell of your name.

“Hey, [Name]! Open your present!”

You shake your head to clear your mind as you being to register your surroundings. You were now seated between two of your teammates on your side sofa, Abbacchio on your left and Mista on your right, with a box lying in your lap.

You smile at Narancia as he urges you on to open the gift. Sitting your champagne glass down on the coffee table in front of you, you begin to tear and pry at the wrapping paper surrounding your mysterious present.

As you got closer to the contents inside, your expression dropped. You had seen a glimpse of the box inside and in all honestly, you were ready to throw the damn thing off of you and make a run for it.

“What? You don’t like it?”

You turn your head to face Mista— the grinning bastard looking very proud in himself and the present.

“Don’t be a brat. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You turn the other direction to face Abbacchio, the smug look on his face exactly like Mista’s. “Go on, finish opening it.”

‘No way,’ you thought as you hesitantly tore through the remnants of the paper. ‘No fucking way did they actually—‘

Removing the last piece of wrapping paper, you felt yourself turn red. In your hands, you were holding a box containing a blue rabbit vibrator.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

Completely mortified and embarrassed, you began to question them. “How— I-“

“Private browsing doesn’t do much when you forget to close the window afterwards.”

You tilt your head up to look at Fugo standing next to the Christmas tree. You had honestly never seen him so amused until this moment. In response, you buried your red face into your cool hands to both cool down your cheeks and cover them.

“You wanted it, yes? So, you got it.”

He began moving from his spot near the tree to crouch in front of you. “And stop acting so damn bashful,” he growled out as he pried your hands from your face. “We all know you’re not shy. If you were, you wouldn’t be so loud when you’re doing it by yourself.”

If it was even possible, your face flushed even more. Were you really that loud?

“Fugo. Give her some space.”

Your eyes darted to the doorway to meet Giorno’s teal ones, along with Bruno’s dark blue ones. The two of them gave you a charming smile as they strode across the living room to wear you were seated, surrounded by the other guys. By now, Fugo had let go of your wrists, but was still crouching in front of you. Giorno took his place right by his side, and Bruno took his right next to that.

Bruno reached out to grip your chin loosely, tilting your face up to look at his. “What do you think Giorno, does she like her gift?”

Giorno stared at you quizzically, searching your eyes for an answer. “Hm. That I do not know.”

“She might need to test it out first,” Mista began as he slung an arm around your shoulder, “You know, to see if it lives up to her standards.”

“Yeah! Let her take it for a test drive,” Narancia added on. You were thoroughly mortified at this point. ‘It couldn’t get worse than this.’

Giorno nodded his head towards Mista who then pulled you up to lay on top of him, locking you in his grip efficiently. “Relax, amore mio,” he whispered into your ear softly, “You know you want this just as much as we do. So, calm down.” You let yourself relax against Mista, knowing there was truth in his words. They wouldn’t hurt you, you know that. You were just to damn embarrassed to let things go smoothly right now. He placed a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to where Abbacchio was pulling your skirt down your legs.

You averted your eyes from the sight, only for Fugo to grip your parental crown and force your head back to wear Abbacchio was currently parting your legs.

“Look at him, troia.”

The insult he tacked onto the end of his sentence sent shivers down your spine as you swallowed harshly and made eye contact with Abbacchio.

“Good girl.”

You watched as the man in between your legs held his hand to receive the now-unboxed toy, bringing it to his front before switching it on.

Pushing you legs further apart, he placed the tip of the toy atop of your dampening panties, flooding your button of nerves with an onslaught of vibrations.

You winced, a quiet whine escaping your lips as the toy was pushed more forcefully into your clit.

You instinctively shut your eyes and allowed yourself to be enveloped by the pleasure being given to you before it was ripped away.

“Look at this,” Abbacchio stated as he slipped two fingers underneath your underwear to gather some of your wetness. “She’s soaked.”

You cringed at his words and at how all the guys stared hungrily at the glistening on his fingers. Bruno bent down to take Abbacchio’ hand and slip the latter’s fingers into his mouth. He maintained eye contact with your the entire time, before pulling away with a lewd pop. Licking his lips and smiling, he stood back up.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting impatient.”

Fugo let go of your head as he stood up, using the hand that was preoccupied with keeping you in line to undo his belt. Mista didn’t voice his agreement, but instead showed it with the subtle grinding of his painfully hard member into your backside.

Narancia practically bounced to Fugo’s side, following suit by undoing his belt and letting it drop to the floor. “I thought I was the only one!”

You found yourself swallowing again as you were met with the dicks of two of your teammates, eagerly awaiting your touch.

Narancia giggled at your expression. “It’s not like it’s gonna bite you or something! Go on!”

You took a deep breath before parting your lips to take the boys cock in between your lips, sucking on the head gently before making your way down his shaft; your lip gloss smearing all over his member.

With Fugo waiting for some pleasure of his own, you wrapped your fist around his throbbing cock, pumping him in tandem with the bobbing of your head on Narancia

“Abbacchio, mind if we switch spots?”

Giorno’s voice broke into your thoughts as you felt Abbacchio’s weight from between your legs be replaced with Giorno’s. “How about we take these off, yeah?”

You glanced over at Giorno best you could as he slid your drenched panties down your legs before tossing them to the side. Picking up the toy once again, he slowly slid it into your waiting pussy before switching it on, the vibrations causing your hips to jerk up and for you to release a moan around Narancia’s cock.

A groan escaped him in response as he softly bucked his hips into your mouth, whining when you switched to sucking Fugo off and stroking Narancia instead.

Your eyes widened as you felt lips envelope your left nipple through the opening of the sofa. Your arched your chest into the lips of the assailant as you felt calloused hands come up to roll and massage your right breast.

You released Fugo from your mouth momentarily to look at the culprit to see Abbacchio mouthing at your breast while Mista was rolling one of your nipples between his fingers.

In the midst of the havoc, Giorno was busy moving the toy in and out of your cunt whilst Bruno brought one of his hands down to stretch at your asshole for Mista, who was pressing sloppy kisses and hickeys to the skin of your neck.

“You need to relax, tesoro. Or else I’ll end up hurting you.”

You took heed of his words and relaxed your body as Bruno lathered your behind with a clear liquid he had squirted on his fingers. The intrusion entered your body rather smoothly, though he stayed gentle in his ministrations as he prepared you for his friend.

The euphoria you felt washing over your body was immense. You were certain that if you didn’t have Fugo’s cock down your throat, you wouldn’t be able to for coherent words anyways.

All your babbling was stifled by the appendage in your mouth, your moans becoming vibrations around his length; mixing in with the humming of the vibrator on your clit.

At this moment, you were thankful for Mista holding you up from behind, or else you would’ve slumped back and possibly fallen off of the couch with the way your senses were going haywire. Giorno was fucking you with the toy the boys got you, Bruno was opening you up from behind, Mista and Abbacchio were making work of your tits, and Narancia and Fugo were using your mouth to its fullest potential.

“Mista, are you ready?”

Coming back down to earth, you look at Buccellati who was looking at Mista for approval. When you felt him nod, Bruno looked to you for the same.

Slowly, you felt Mista push himself into to from behind— the stretch the slightest bit uncomfortable at first but slowly becoming more and more pleasant as he moved. You could feel his breathing against your neck as his thrusts became sharper and harder— so hard in fact, you had to let go of Fugo and Narancia.

“Fuck, bambina... look at you taking my cock like a champ.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in response. You felt the toy Giorno was holding in your pussy slide out in a painfully slow manner, only to be replaced by something much, much better.

You eyes flew open to look what was going on south of you, and you were met with Giorno pushing himself in your dripping womanhood with no resistance whatsoever, his thrusts falling in tandem with Mista’s.

You swore you heard Giorno’s, the Don’s, breath hitch as he thrusted. There was a contrast between both his and his friend’s thrusts— Mista’s was hard and passionate, while Giorno’s was just as deep, but sweeter and more gentle.

You could feel yourself get lazy with your hands on Narancia and Fugo’s cock to the point where you went completely limp as you were fucked through. At this point, you had lost all sense of shame that you had and you moaned unabashed as you felt yourself clamp around the two men inside you, cumming the hardest you had ever cum in your life.

As it almost on cue, Fugo and Narancia came as well having had taking to pleasuring themselves since you were “occupied.” Your chest was covered by the two boys, and your stomach was covered by Bruno and Abbacchio.

‘Since when did they..?’

Not caring to think about it too much, you through your head back onto Mista as the two beneath you quickened their paces, finishing inside you. You couldn’t help but squeal at the sensation— both your comrade and boss’s seed filling you to the brim.

One Giorno and Mista pulled out, the seven of you sat out of breath and exhausted. “Holy shit,” was the first thing someone said to broke the silence and it was none other than Narancia.

“What a way to spend Christmas, huh,” Fugo said, slumping down into his seat. It was easy to tell he was beat.

“That’s for sure,” Buccellati responded, chuckling slightly.

You scanned the room momentarily, looking for something.

“Something wrong, babe?” Mista asked. You shook your head.

“No, just looking for my phone.” Narancia’s face lit up as he dug into his pocket and handed you your device. “Here you go!”

You smiled sweetly at the boy before looking at the time. 1:34 a.m., jesus christ.

Along with the time, you saw you had a notification. A missed text.

It was from Trish.

“If you all are going to fuck in the living room, let a girl know so she can show up later.

P.S. You’re filling me in on details when I get back.”

You felt your face flush as you read the message.This was going to be a long night.

#merry christmas #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #not sfw #vento aureo #bucci gang #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #giorno giovanna #pannacotta fugo #narancia ghirga #guido mista #leone abbachio #chrismas fic!

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londonfog-chan · 4 years

Text

Abbacchi x Reader: Sudoh Buck AU

The coffee shop Abbacchio THIRST everyone keeps losing their collective shit over on AO3 and admittedly the chapter where I decided I was one thirsty ass bitch. All characters aged up.

...

"Ok, fucking Darth Vader over here, whoever has their headset on turn it the fuck off! Sounds like you're doing something gross!"

Darth Vader is an understatement. Whenever someone leaves their headset on and does any task, your ears are assaulted with what sounds like some mouth breather huffing directly into your ear canal.

Not even two shifts into Passione and you're already showing your coworkers that you have the capacity to look innocent, but have the mouth of a sailor. In a fitting turn of events you've been put on customer support, free to fuck off wherever you wish and cuss all you want on the headset. No one at your store appreciates your humor, in fact any time you make a joke they conveniently pretend they don't hear you or they grimace until the situation becomes awkward and you have to shut your mouth before you make an even bigger ass of yourself. Here at this location, the boys eat it up with a spoon. They can't get enough of your jokes, encouraging you whenever they force a headset on your head the minute you clock in. Even the new girl Trish, a pretty thing with dyed pink hair and a smile that goes for miles, joins in on the never ending train of dirty jokes, profanities, and general riff raff that makes Bruno bitch at everyone involved like a single mother.

But at the moment, the breathing most certainly does not belong to Bruno. Usually he's the one who always casually reminds people when they leave their headsets on.

"Mista!" you growl, "Turn it off or breathe less!"

"It's not me." he insists, the beep of the warming oven being cut off as he mutes himself.

"Narancia, I love you but I don't need to hear what it's like for you to get laid!"

"Negative babe~... I'm on drive bar." Narancia replies.

"Trish?"

"Not me hunty." she answers, and the sound of the wind in her headset confirms this.

"Fugo, I swear to fuck-..."

"It's me. Fugo doesn't have a headset."

Immediately you press on the sprayer head a little too hard and the back splash soaks the entire front of your apron and your uniform shirt. The voice you're greeted with on the headset is totally foreign, and unmistakably sexy. A low hum, almost like Bruno's baritone, and much like the rest of the crew you've come to love it's colored with the slightest hue of an accent that makes your knees start to knock together. Admittedly you're bad with voices and just as worse with names. You can't put a face to this voice no matter how hard you try, and it's no wonder considering that out of all the stores in the district, Passione has more employees than any of them, including H. Green and S. Platinum locations which are always overstaffed because of the sheer amount of business compared to the meager crowds you get at Ogre Street.

But... With that voice... if you were a customer you'd fucking live at that drive thru just to hear him read back your order to you.

"Woah..." you're nearly moaning the words "I'm wet in more ways than one, who the fuck is this?"

"It's Leone." he replies, voice low and sultry, "Sorry about that, I was eating a bagel."

Leone... who the fuck is Leone? Surely he has to be one of the other baristas whose names you never bothered to learn... doesn't really matter to you when you have constant attention of the store's man candy. But suddenly this is a whole new person with the sexiest voice you've ever heard giving you attention like everyone else. For very obvious reasons, this piques your interest.

"I don't recognize your voice." you said, putting down the whisk you were rinsing. "What's your last name?"

"Abbacchio." he responds. "We haven't met face to face yet, but I've seen you before. You're the beanie from Ogre Street right? It's nice to finally talk to you. I think you're really pretty."

... Oh sweet baby Jesus why aren't you taking the wheel yet!?

"Aww, and aren't you just a sweetheart?" you murmur, leaning over the sink as your voice drops to a near whisper. "Wait... Aren't you the one with the pretty handwriting in the book?"

His chuckle makes you honest to god swoon, and even Bruno peeks his head in to check on you when you make that kind of a noise.

"Yes, that's me." he confirms. "And you're the one with the great customer service. I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you, but I've been listening for a while. I really like your attitude. You're much more fun than your coworkers."

“Really?" you ask, taking up more dirty dishes, "Big shocker there, I'm surprised no one at this store is drooling over Ogre Street's heartthrob one miss Kimmy."

"Meh. I think the consensus is that you're the favorite barista out of everyone from your store if we're being honest."

That's Narancia, and even Abbacchio agrees with the rest of the crew. They all start complimenting you, how you never ask stupid questions, you try to help out any way you can. They honestly can't go two minutes without berating the other coworkers. It's all things you'd normally do to try and be helpful, but you're not sure exactly why it's so endearing to all of them. You're just another barista? It's never mattered to anyone this much before. Especially when you always come home in tears at your other location. It must be that you're not used to receiving compliments in such abundance.

"Agreed." reaffirms Abbacchio. "You're really agreeable, and I like your jokes. Your laugh is really sexy."

"Well aren't you a flatterer." you smile, putting the dishes to soak in the sani solution before throwing them for another go in the dish washer. "But I like having my ego stroked. Tell me more about how I'm wonderful, Abbacchio."

You can tell he's about to reply, until you hear the mournful "ding" from the drive thru sensors indicate that someone wants to order. You hear him tell you "hold that thought" before he turns his charms the customer.

"Hello there..." he purrs into the headset, "Welcome to Sudoh Buck, what can I get started for you today?"

The customer murmurs an "oh wow" before she remembers why she came here in the first place.

"Um yes hi can I please get a..."

It doesn't take much for you to zone out and return to your task. As soon as you finish up this set of dishes, you'll be able to take your last ten before you go home for the day. Customer Support is one of those coveted positions because you have little to no interactions with customers at a busy store. Bruno sets you to work with a task list, you work to the limit on the timer on your apron. Whenever it goes off, you have to drop what you're doing and come back to front to brew coffee. If anyone needs anything, like if Mista runs out of warming bags or Narancia needs more cups or milk, all they have to do is press the button on the headset and set you forth to do their bidding. Admittedly, you don't find yourself going straight home anymore. Even your brother, stoic and nonchalant, makes comments about it whenever you come home an hour or two later than the time you're supposed to. Mom, well, she's a worrier, and thinks you're getting up to no good shenanigans. But let's be real, when you live in the house you live in any trysts with potential suitors goes out the window. Your brother is in college and his schedule is unpredictable, and your mom is a homemaker.

The minute Abbacchio tells the flustered woman to pull up to the window, he returns to shower you with compliments over the headset, calling you the prettiest thing he's ever seen to put on an apron, how cute your angry face looks when you're totally focused on bar, even busting out some cutesy nicknames that make you squirm as you try to finish up your dishes. Strangely enough, everyone else is silent on the headset, letting you and Abbacchio get acquainted with one another to your heart's content, the lull in the conversation only happening when a customer pulls up. Eventually, like all good things, the compliments come to an end and the conversation turns to other topics.

"So you said you live with your mom?" Abbacchio asks after taking an order of five different fraps. You can hear Narancia cussing softly as he has to make each individual drink.

"Yeah, my mom and my big brother." you affirm. "It's the most I can afford in this town. Everything's so goddamn expensive, I couldn't even afford to make the first and last month's rent on the cheapest place in town, and my brother can't move in with me yet since he's doing school full time. But enough about me, what about you?"

"Mm? What about me?" he asks, flirt evident in his voice.

"Which country do I have to thank for that blessed ass accent you have?"

"That's Italy." he laughs. "I've been with the company for over six years, I started out at the reserve roastery in Milan and came here when Buccellati offered me a job. I came on a work visa, and now you can't get rid of me. I'm one of your shift supervisors."

"Well, temp supervisor anyway." you respond rather sadly. "It's too bad this store hadn't been opened before I got hired. Otherwise I would have loved to start here."

"I still think you should transfer." interjects Trish. "No one likes Ogre Street anyways."

"I... I'd have to think about it."

"What's there to think about anyway?" Abbacchio asks, and you stop scrubbing the chocolate pump for a minute. "If you transfer here, I'd get to talk to you every single day. Tips are shit but you can move up if you'd like."

"And the best part is if you transfer here, we can see your huge ass every time you bend over." Mista chimes in.

"MISTA! WE ARE AT WORK!" Bruno sounds exasperated over the headset.

"Oh yeah, my bad boss. I mean to say we can see your venti ass every time you bend over."

Everyone loses their shit for a minute to laugh as Bruno begins to berate the very bad and naughty warming man off headset. Before he mutes, you can hear him threaten disciplinary action, and you can't stop howling in the back. Nearly falling over just thinking about it.

"So how about it cuteness?" Abbacchio asks, and his voice is so warm and inviting you can't help but smile. "Think it's worth us stealing you away to stay here?"

"Yeah... I dunno. Like I said, I'd have to think about it. Besides, I think working here would just give my mommy an excuse to show up more often..."

A shrill sound assaults your ears, the timer, and you sigh.

"Now the age old question..." you wonder aloud, "What the fuck did I brew last?"

"I know we've been selling a lot of medium and dark." Abbacchio replies. "And it's already ten thirty, just cut the blonde and do full batches. Narancia can do pour overs."

"Ah yes," you can hear the mischief in Narancia's voice. "My special americano pour overs."

"You know Narancia, one of these days corporate is gonna walk in and see all the shit you do and your ass is going to get canned." you respond, laughing as you wash your hands in the employee sink before going back out to front.

"Fuck it." he laughs. "It won't bother me none, Buccellati can take care of me with all that Mama Daddy money he's got."

"Oh hey, cara mia, when you come up to front, come to drive. I've got something for you."

That was Abbacchio, and for a hot minute you're almost nervous, like a first date, at the prospect of seeing him face to face.

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

"Well," you hear the rustle of the bag, "It's cat shaped, and really cute, like a certain barista I know..."

"OOOOOOOOH DADDY!" you squeal. "You've just made me the happiest girl on earth!"

He's found your weakness. The quickest way for any man to get to your heart is to dangle some motherfucking food in your face, no lie. Even your brother has commented on more than one occasion that if anyone wanted to take you all they had to do was dangle a fucking cupcake in your face and you were toast. And it doesn't help that you called your mom squealing about the cute little kitty shaped cake pops they had out for the season.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Come and get this and we can meet in person."

Ever the one to be lured in with the prospect of free food, you run your ass to the front, nearly bowling over Mista as you skid to a halt at the nook where the drive thru window is located. To your ever lasting shock, you come face to face with the last person you'd ever expect to be flirting with you so boldly.

"Holy shit..." you breathe. "Abbacchio?"

It's the dude who gang faced you the first day you came in, and ironically the one who got fed up with your friend's bar time. Silver hair pulled into a pony tail, glistening purple lips, snatched makeup that's too perfect for a barista... All put together in a black apron. His glare never leaves his face, but maybe... Just maybe, he's like your brother and just has a very bad case of resting bitch face. Because you get a little hopeful when he sees you and his lipstick mouth smiles, beckoning you over with a warming bag in his hand. When Abbacchio reaches in, he pulls out the very treat you've been craving all day since you've seen it. This is the best part of the job. Sometimes some customers forget they get food and never come back, and it just sits there for hours until someone has to throw it away, or they'll change their mind last minute about the food, or worse yet someone on warming (Mista) will fuck up an order and get the wrong sandwich. If it's a sandwich, nine times out of ten you have to toss it, but if it's a sweet treat it's usually fair game for anyone to enjoy since it will just go in the trash. You love to have the mistake foods, sometimes you'll take them to your brother at the college, or more often than not you'll take them home to share with your mother. She loves sweets, and working for a coffee chain she normally can't afford to frequent is such a rare treat that you love to spoil her.

"Oh my god!" you coo, "Is that a kitty cat cake poop just for me??"

"Just for you." he chuckles. "Why do you call it that anyway?"

"I dunno. For some reason the feral part of my brain activates whenever I see words and I just like to play around with them and mutter weird things to myself. I tried telling it to my SM at Ogre Street and he told me I better not call it that, otherwise I might slip and call it a cock pop or something."

He can't help the smile that spreads over his face, and he suddenly gets a very naughty glint in his eye as he twirls the cake pop in your direction.

"So?" he asks. "You made such a big to do about being friendly on the headset. Be a good girl and take a bite of the treat I worked so hard to get for you. Come on, take a big nom nom out of this cock pop~."

You hope and pray that by some stroke of bad luck that no one you know outside of work just heard that. Not one to be shown up when it comes to flirting, you don't miss a beat as you step forward. With a look in your face that would make your mother faint if she knew how filthy you were being, you waste no time in licking a stripe slowly up the cake pop before taking a fat ass bite out of the head. Abbacchio's grin could split his entire face in half, and even more so when you use your teeth to pull the pop stick out of his hand.

"Hey... hunty, question?" it's Trish interrupting the positively predatory stares you and Abbacchio are giving each other. She's been listening in this whole time.

"Yes Trisha my love?" you respond, not taking your eyes off Abbacchio.

"Just one question... Can you eat pussy like that?"

A cacophony of screams and your screech of "NASTY WOMAN" makes Trish lose her shit outside, and Bruno swears up and down from the back office that he's going to write up the next person who says something filthy over headset during his shifts.

#jojo’s bizzare adventure vento aureo #jojo’s bizzare adventure #leone abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio #coffee shop au #reader instertjojo’s bizarre adventure reader insert

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wri0thesley · 5 years

Note

Bruno masturbates in the office thinking about his s/o because they are away for a long while and he’s stressed with work and misses his s/o too much.

nsfw, afab reader, neutral pronouns - 1.5k.

Bruno Buccellati is burnt out.

Oh, everyone is always accusing him of being thus - saying he works too hard, and he needs to take a break, saying that he's going to run himself ragged if he doesn't just let himself slow down and enjoy the world around him. But it's not actually very often that it rings true. Most of the time, Bruno likes working - he finds immersing himself in the paperwork gratifying.

It's been even more gratifying since Passione came under new management, now that he's fixing problems properly instead of merely patching them up. His schooling may have been spotty, and it may take him longer to work through the miscellanea than it would take Fugo or even Abbacchio, but there's a satisfaction to be had in marking the ones he finishes with a cross. A happy little note in his head: fixed.

One more problem down, one more solution found, one less thing he has to weigh on his guilty conscience.

And perhaps . . . perhaps your presence has helped assuage him in times when he might have found himself too swamped in work to do anything else.

Certainly, other members of his team would agree with that assessment. They'd pat you on the back and laugh as you dragged your boyfriend out of his office, insisting you two go for a walk or go for ice cream because it couldn't be good for him to be so cramped up all of the time! You'd poke him in the chest and playfully tell him if he squinted for much longer in the dark of that room, he'd need glasses, and who would take him seriously as a gangster then?

Bruno's not a fool. He has noticed what they have noticed. Since you came into his life, a flurry of smiles and coy looks and fluttering eyelashes, he has not been so hard on himself. His heart has felt lighter. He's been able to let go and relax more often, safe in the knowledge that you're by his side and would be happy to indulge him in letting off steam.

And that's steam in more than one sense of the word.

A ragged breath escapes Bruno's parted lips as he considers all of the various ways that you've discovered help him feel a little more . . . renewed, energy-wise. He swallows, thinking about your hands stroking over his hard chest. Your lips brushing his earlobe. The wet of your kisses along the column of his throat.

His shirt suddenly feels a little too tight, though he knows it's tailored to his body perfectly.

You're away on a mission right now, and you have been for some days. You'd warned him before you'd gone that this might take a while - someone who owed Giorno a lot of money had gone rogue, and Passione weren't sure if he had a stand - but that you'd be back as soon as you can. As you'd said that, you'd given him a teasing smile - and leaned forward, and ghosted your lips across his.

"When I'm back," you'd said, your voice soft enough to have the hairs on the back of Bruno's nck standing up and his mouth going dry, "I'll make sure to make it up to you, Capo."

Oh, no, thinking about that wasn't helping his predicament at all.

He looks back down at the paperwork scattered across his desk. The ephemera of not being able to concentrate - a half-eaten chocolate bar that Narancia had given him for energy, two pens that had already ran out of ink, a few scattered tissues to clear up the mess that another leaking pen had made--

He groans aloud, resting his hands on the arms of his office chair, tipping his head back. He'd do anything to have you with him right now. He knows you'd know how to make this persistent stress simply melt away - that's one of the things that you're best at. Making him feel relaxed. Making his tension drain away.

He wonders, idly, how you'd do it.

He wonders if you'd straddle him, if you'd bite a line of gentle nips down his neck, if your hands would slip under his expensive suit jacket to scratch nails over his sensitive back. He wonders if you'd grind down where you were, if he'd feel your soft warmth pressing insistently against his cock, where it would be standing to attention inside his equally as expensive slacks--

Oh, dear. His fantasy has gotten away from him. There's a stiffness against his zipper that is not merely imaginary.

He bites his lip guiltily. He's in his office, for God's sake! He should be looking at the paperwork! He should be doing his job!

But God, he's been pent up since you left, really. When was the last time he allowed a touch to himself? When was the last time he got off? Maybe his body has gotten used to it, and he won't be able to concentrate again until he does come?

Right now, with the taste of you lingering so close and yet so far away, he does not need any more justification to reach down and unzip his trousers aside from that. His length springs free; hot, hard, ready to be manhandled, even if he'd rather it be your hands doing the handling than his own.

He closes his eyes again as he wraps his fingers around the shaft, his breathing becoming heavier. He sees you in his mind's eye, and as he begins to move his hand, the you that he's constructed begins to move in tandem.

He runs the pads of his fingers over his shaft, imagining they belong to you - he sees in his mind, that shy smile that you always have when you're teasing him. He imagines you biting into your lower lip as he watches you, your face knitted in concentration as to how to make him feel as good as possible.

A little harder. The you that he's imagining gently kneels, head tipping forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock. He thumbs at the slit of his cockhead as he imagines you, his own thumbs not quite as soft or as perfect as the feel of your mouth or your lips or your tongue sliding along, but . . . the thought of you in his mind helps. He's thought about you, too, doing this to him in his office - visiting him to bring him some pastries or some such sweet thought for lunch, and then smiling at him wickedly and enveloping his cock inside the wet heat of your mouth.

He imagines the noises you'd make, mouth stuffed full of him. The way you always moan when you're sucking him off, the way your body gently moves as you press your legs together for the friction, the way your face feels when his fingers cup it and you look up at him through dark-fringed lashes and blown-out eyes like the very picture of seduction--

Maybe, he thinks, as he establishes a rhythm, his hand sliding back and forth and tightening and loosening on his cock, maybe you'd stand up next. Maybe you'd primly shed your clothes, pull down your underwear. Maybe you'd straddle him like he wants you to, and he'd feel your slickness press against his cock, before you slid onto him with practised ease.

A groan escapes Bruno's mouth as he thinks about your hips moving in tandem with his, where he's arching up in the uncomfortable office chair. He recalls the taste of your sweat-slicked skin, the way your body trembles when he kisses that particular spot on your neck, the way you whimper his name when his cock hits every sensitive spot inside your walls. He imagines the way your eyes squeeze shut and the breathy, whispery way you beg out, when he teases you;

"Bruno, capo, please--"

And that pushes him over the edge. His hips falter with the thought of how your walls flutter and squeeze around him, how your breath dies in your throat, the way that he can feel when you come and your slickness soaks his member. As the tightly wound spring inside him snaps and bounces, it's the thought of your face when you come that rests behind his eyelids, sweaty and lovely and sated even as your body milks his cock for all it's worth. Ropes of his own come spatter his suit, and he thinks about cleaning it as if he's somewhere very far away. He'll be the last one out of the building, after all - just like always.

He rests for a moment, chest heaving, the thought of you still very present in his mind. The haze of post-orgasm bliss settles its mantle on his shoulders, as he enjoys the quiet, and the fact that the stress of what he's supposed to be doing seems to have dissipated when the first vision of you entered his mind.

His phone chimes, once, then twice, and like a man in a daze Bruno reaches across his desk to read the text message.

"Be home tonight! Can't wait to make it up to you."

He stares at the text for a few moments, not quite processing, mind still overcast - and then, slowly, a smile rises to his face. His cock stirs, as he taps out a reply.

"Why don't you meet me from the office?"

Oh, he can hardly wait.

#bruno has a normal amount of work but it takes him ages to do it #because he barely went to school #and that's why he seems overworked #bruno buccellati #jjba #not sfw #afab reader #neutral pronouns #getting in my own headcanons of #Anonymous

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peachfyzzy · 5 years

Text

guido mista x f!reader x bruno bucciarati: interrogation

What a rare pair! You never really see these two put together for stuff like this, so this was supppa fun! <3 Read till the end for a cheesy twist and better explanation for dark mista lmfao

Warnings: Rated F as in ‘What the Fuck is Wrong with Me’, gun play, general rough sex, stand abuse lmfao, pet names,

nsfw under the cut

When you were captured by this certain facet of Passione, you didn’t know what to expect. Of course, you weren’t stupid. As a member of a rival gang, you were conscious of the types of problems you may face. You had extensive knowledge of each member's stands and in your mind, all of them seemed like good interrogation methods. Would Fugo trap you in a room with purple haze and watch you struggle for a clean air source? Would Narancia set you free only to play a sadistic game of cat and mouse with his radar? As you sat strapped to a chair deep within a building you weren’t familiar with, your thoughts raced. You cursed yourself for letting things get this far. For letting yourself slip up so gravely. This could result in your death, or worse, termination. Just as your anxiety was about to break through the roof, you heard two sets of footsteps approaching. Putting on your best ‘I’m not scared, fuck you’ face, you braced yourself for the people who were prepared to torture you. The door swung open, and in one stride, gunslinger Mista and capo Bruno revealed themselves to you. You resisted the urge to grit your teeth. Mista’s ability would make Russian Roulette fine entertainment for the men in front of you. And Sticky Fingers would have no problem in making the foulest things come pouring out of your mouth. “This is her, right?” Mista carefully loaded the Smith and Wesson with an almost unreadable expression. Bruno replied with a simple nod.

“Listen. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Bruno took another step towards you, kneeling to look you in the eyes. You could sense genuine care in his voice, but at the moment, you couldn’t care. You rolled your eyes at the cliched line and turned your head. Bruno simply tsked and yanked your chin back to its previous space. “Tell us why you were slinking around our territory.” His words were steely and less forgiving than his previous sentence. Close behind him, Mista was twirling the gun between his fingers tauntingly.

Suddenly, the room felt a lot smaller.

Years of gang life had hardened you to this sort of activity. Why were you getting anxious now? With a gulp, you decided to be a complete smart ass.

“Enjoying the scenery. Real-life drug deals are quality entertainment.”

“Bruno can I just sho-”

“Not yet, Mista.” Bruno waved his hand, signaling his friend to come closer. They whispered something to each other, and once they pulled away, Mista untied the binds keeping you to the chair. Without hesitation, he placed the barrel of his gun to your temple.

“Even think about running and I make sure you regret it. Got it?” You nodded, begrudgingly. Mista kept kneeling in front of you, but slowly moved the barrel of the gun down. First, past your cheek, then your jawline, and finally the middle of your throat. The cold material made you shiver and squeeze your thighs together. You tried to hang your head, but Mista let you know that was a bad choice by pressing it down harder on your windpipe. No matter how strong your will and resolve was, the hard tip of a barrel was always 5x as durable. Bruno made his way to the back of the chair and dipped his head to the right of yours. You were keenly aware of every sensation around you. The coldness of the gun, the body heat radiating from Mista, and the hollow footsteps circling their way around you. His lips were dangerously close to the shell of your ear, and his warm breath tickled one side of your neck. You were smashed between the two, and giving yourself any breathing room was nearly impossible.

“When you said you were looking at scenery earlier,” Bruno gently tucked your hair behind your ear and lead it to the other side of your neck, exposing the unmarked skin on his side. “That was the truth, correct?” Bruno wasn’t an idiot. He was simply holding things over your head in order to get his expected answer out of you, and it made you seethe. “Because lying is somewhat of a specialty to me.” You gulped and shifted in your seat a bit. Mista’s hand behind sliding from the bottom of your calf to your knee. He let his free hand rest on your knee, and once again, the abundance of skin to skin contact made you squirm. Bruno leaned forward a bit, and without warning, licked a clean stripe from the top of your shoulder blade to the middle of your neck. You couldn’t help but yelp and extend your feet a little more, making Mista mumble something about being still.

“Looks like the puttanna responds better to force than praise.” The funny and lighthearted Mista you had mission debriefings about wasn’t anywhere to be seen. No one told you how serious he could get about his work. The dark-haired Capo tsked once again, and in a low tone began speaking.

“She was lying, Mista.” You made eye contact with the young man and knew that sentence meant he could do just about anything he wanted with you. Mista pulled his gun away from your neck and placed it on your lips. You were sure you were done for, and beads of sweat began to form at your hairline.

“Pucker for him, cagna. I know you can do better at kissing it.” You did exactly that, and Mista playfully circled the handgun around the outlines of your hips.

“Open up and suck.” Mista commanded, and you complied. The hard feeling of molybdenum on your teeth made you visibly cringe. He grabbed your chin, squeezing it open and forcing the hollowed out object into the depths of your mouth. It scraped against the roof of it, and tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Finally, things were beginning to make sense. Bruno carefully guided your head into sucking on the object, and Mista kept his iron grip on the sides of your jaw. It was painfully erotic, and you loved and hated every second of it. Mista then pulled the barrel out of your mouth, marveling at the way your mouth and throat had generously coated the object. You coughed for a second but weren’t given much time before you were tipped out of the chair and left on your actual knees. The two striking men stared at the helpless you below them and took the slightest bit of pity on your wanting and aching form. You were ordered to take your clothes off and lay on your stomach. The position was entirely lewd, and you felt like their words rang even more true by the second. Mista and Bruno took turns taunting you in this state, all of which only made you feel even more guilty for indulging in such a fantasy. Finally, the gunslinger spread your legs and slid a languid finger down your sopping sex. He lifted the soaked finger up and scoffed. “Look at how wet she is, Capo.”

“All of this from light petting and sucking off his gun?” The raven-haired man words were venomous and stung in the best way. Mista nodded in a way that would imply he was saying yes to extra fries at a restaurant, and a big goofy crossed his face. Once again, without warning, Mista rubbed the trusty firearm against the length of your slit and slid in with ease. You wanted to protest. You wanted to call them depraved for having their way with you, but the way your hips rolled against the jagged weapon made you see stars. The only skin contact keeping you grounded was the feeling of Bruno’s slender fingers working and kneading your breasts. A sinful moan escaped your lips as the gunslinger tipped the gun up a bit, stretching you out and hitting a sensitive spot deliciously.

“Fuck...I...please.” You hissed out words like they hurt you, and both of the men responded in unison as if they had been waiting for you to crack.

“Please, what?”

“Please...Put one of you inside me!” You snapped back, still rocking your hips to the not so gentle thrusts and twirls of Mista’s gun. Mista withdrew the gun from your dripping insides and sat it down somewhere next to you. After a moment of shuffling, you were on your hands and knees; legs spread far. With Mista aligned at your mouth and Bruno at your core, you somehow felt even more exposed. Arousal clouded your feelings of humiliation as they both thrusted into your holes, making you garble out a mess of chokes and moans. Half-hearted attempts to insult you were made, but the pleasure from all three parties was simply too much. Your already sensitive walls were filled up to the brim by Bruno’s thick length, and your jaw was already feeling sore from Mista. They shared a moment between each other, enjoying the feeling of being buried deep within you before slamming out of your mouth and cunt without abandon. The next few moments were a blur of pleasure and motion. Tears of pleasure filled your eyes and trailed down your cheeks, which only seemed to fuel the energetic men more. With a stutter of your hips, you clamped down on Bruno and fell off the edge. Your body was torn apart and then put together again as stars washed over your entire being. You threatened to pass out if not for the careful grips on your shoulders and hips. Soon after, both of the boys followed after you. A moment of silence was shared between the three of you, and suddenly, feverish giggles were shared between you and Mista.

“Was I too mean?” He said, his dark demeanor dropped in an instant.

“You did wonderfully, darling.” You pecked his cheek and then did the same for your other lover. When you had suggested the new scene to your boyfriends, you didn’t know what to expect. But you loved exactly what you got.

#guido mista #mista #ask #bruno bucciarati #unholy lmfao #jjba #vento aureo #golden wind

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kirieshhhka003 · 4 years

Note

heyoo! hope you are having a great day💕 i’d like to request hcs of the bucci gang (trish too if you don’t mind?) reacting to a new member desperate because they broke something, like they’re scared of them getting mad or something worse. Im sorry if this is kinda specifc, i haven’t had the best day but your writing always makes me better, ty💕💕

Sorry but I didn’t include Trish, I just hadn’t any ideas about what to write for her, sorry😢. Thank you for your support and request, my dear anon💚

Bucci gang x desperate S/o because they broke something

Bruno Buccellati

They fucked up, they fucked up very much. They crushed a car they were driving trying to escape from enemies following them. It wasn’t a big deal, Bruno with the newbie stole it from the parking, it was the first car they saw. The problem was that enemies were chasing them and Bruno was trying to distract them so S/o had a chance to get to the car and pick Buccellati up afterwards

But now, instead of saving a capo, they were trying to get out of the crushed car, strange smoke started to come out under the hood. S/o needed to find a new car, but how? Bruno was the one who started the engine in a crushed auto, they don’t know how to get a new car(so they simply stoped the first car passing by them and kicked a driver out of it🤷‍♀️)

When they finally arrived Bruno’s right side was injured, his jacket stained with blood. “What took you so long? Did you forgot where we left our car? And the fuck is that, is it another one? Where did you get the first one?” After explaining to him that they crushed their first auto and it took some time to find another one S/o were ready to hear indignations and swearings but instead Bruno chuckled and patted them on the shoulder. “Chill out, that’s okay. I’m not a good driver, so I can understand you. Everything is fine now so don’t think much about it”

Leone Abbacchio

It’s more likely S/o and Leone were on a mission together and during a fight with enemy they ripped his cloak. When Abbacchio noticed the damage on his clothing, knowing his short temper, he quickly got pissed by it

“Don’t you see what you’ve done? Gosh, pull your head out of ass a look at that. It’s ripped! This cloak was bespoken specially for me and now the only thing I can do with it is throw it away!”

But when he looked at their face and saw tears in their eyes he shut himself up. Was it too much for them?

“Oh gosh” he moaned wearily “Okay, there’s nothing we can do with that, I’ll just buy another one, so stop making that disgusting expression on your face and get in a car, we have a lot of work to do”

Guido Mista

The two of them were on a mission together and it was pretty cold so Mista gave them his jacket, so they won’t catch a cold

The next day S/o were ready to give jacket back to Guido but something caught their attention. The fabric on the elbow was ripped and stained with dirt and blood, they fell last night and didn’t even notice the damages on Mista’s garment

They felt guilty for spoiling Guido’s jacket that he kindly lended them. When they came to him and with wet eyes told him that they ripped his jacket Mista was taken aback. They are crying because of that? Really?

“Oh, c’mon, stop it right now. It’s not a big loss, I didn’t like that jacket anyways, so stop crying”

Narancia Ghirga

Firstly he didn’t understand what was wrong with them, they acted strange, but S/o on themselves are pretty eccentric person and Nara is very unobservant

When they started to ask him for forgiveness he was confused. What do they mean? Are there any enemies and they’re trying to notify him in that way that enemies won’t understand it?

When they told him that they accidentally broke his cd-player he was like “Wtf are you dumb? Why are you so nervous? Yeah, it’s a loss, but not a big one. So chill out and don’t bother about it. I thought that there are enemies nearby, you scared me!”

Pannacotta Fugo

The whole team was spending time at their favorite restaurant. Everyone was enjoying their food and company, Bruno and Leone were chatting about upcoming missions, Fugo was reading a new book, Giorno Mista and Narancia were talking about Snoop Dogg’s recent album

Nara was so emotional trying to express how excited he was about new music, he jabbed S/o’s side with his elbow trying to get their attention but he scared them instead. The tea that was in a cup they were holding spilled and some of it got right on Fugo’s book

The both Nara and S/o loose their shit when they saw a book pages soaked with sweet tea, knowing Fugo’s anger management issues. S/o started to apologize, they spoiled his book and of course Fugo had every right to be angry

But instead of shouting at them he just sighed irritably and said “Gosh, you guys are so fucking loud and annoying. Narancia, shut the hell up, nobody wants to hear your squeaky voice yelling about Snoop. And you, you spilled tea on my freaking book, and now it’s all wet and looks more like a rag. It’s a horrible day, I hate all of you so much”

(In less than 10 min he calmed down and started to argue with Nara about what song from the new album is better)

Giorno Giovanna

After a hard mission Giorno and S/o were having an ice cream. It was about 3 pm, they were tired and injured, their clothes were saturated with sweat and blood, it was weary hot and every breath was painful(mostly because of broken ribs)

So why weren’t they going home? Because this blonde brat wanted an ice cream. Giorno was driving a car and he really was going to ride S/o home but a sudden thought hit his pretty head and here they are, eating their ice cream at 3 pm all beaten up and tired

It was a middle of the summer, and even at night it was very hot and stuffy. Giorno was eating his dessert while telling S/o some teenage gibberish about video games and music and they were just sitting nex to him on the bench, almost sleeping, just nodding and yessing

S/o wanted to sleep so badly, they didn’t even notice that their ice cream melted and was dripping down their hand. “Ehhh, are you alright?” They opened their eyes and looked at Giorno, a funny confused expression on his face. Then they looked down and saw their melted ice cream dripping right on his leg

Yeah, his pants were dirty and stained with blood after a mission but now there is a sweet ice cream that is so hard to wash out. Giorno saw their worry and laughed quietly “Oh, don’t worry, there’s nothing to do with those pants. I ripped them, and I don’t think that I’ll be able to wash out all those blood stains. I’ll just buy another pants, how do you think, shouldi add some lace on the new pair or will it be too much?”

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

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blasphemings · 5 years

Text

memories of eurydice

every angel is terrifying. through the darkness, they move silently...

I will go down into death with you. I must go where I must go to see what I must see in that place where no one knows...

... this is where love is taking me.

[...]

lovers disappear in each other. do they disappear forever? where do they go?

- kathy acker, eurydice in the underworld

(bruabba, ~3.9k words, end of vento aureo timeline)

ao3 link

Before he saw anything, Abbacchio felt it happen. One of the weights that had tugged at his chest ever since he had to leave them behind abruptly lifted, the line connecting him to the world of the living snapped like the sliced string of a marionette. He felt lighter immediately.

And, in a very familiar way, he felt afraid.

The rhythm of his footsteps was straight out of a memory, so close to what he knew that he may as well have imagined it. He kept his eyes straight ahead, fists still clenched close to his side.

If you don’t see him then he isn’t here. If you don’t feel him then he isn’t here.

Strange, how the only thing he had wanted ever since being severed from the living was to not be alone, and yet now that he was here, now that he was no longer alone at all, he found it was for all the wrong reasons. Happened in the wrong way.

It was something that should never have happened at all.

And yet when the cool fingers brushed the back of his hand with a patience as deeply familiar as his fear, the way he reflexively closed his own around them without looking up felt too much like an acknowledgment, felt like by touching him at all he was agreeing to accept what he knew must have already come to pass.

“Good to see you, Leone.”

Abbacchio exhaled through his teeth. Breathing being, of course, no longer necessary, but he was still far too close to it all to have left behind his tendency to emote as he had in life.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed.

He still smelled the same, like rosemary and lilies and the only memories he had ever felt were worth holding on to.

“Bruno…”

Bruno squeezed his hand and he felt his grip tighten in response despite himself. Still he refused to look at him.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Bruno murmured. “Had some things to take care of.”

“Sorry it—” He snorted. “You fucking—stronzo.”

“Would you please look at me?”

Abbacchio shook his head.

“Why not?”

“What’s the old myth?” He tapped the back of Bruno’s hand with his thumb. “Orpheus, right?”

Bruno sighed. “Orpheus and Eurydice. I see.”

“If I look at you then I—” Abbacchio swallowed hard. Irritating, he thought, to still have to deal with a cracking voice even now. “Then it’s real.”

“Will it be easier for you if I say it first?” He could tell from the sound of Bruno’s voice that he was smiling, and he couldn’t decide if he found that comforting or infuriating. “I’m here because I—”

“Don’t.”

“Leone.”

“Please. Please don’t.”

“It’s already happened.” His tone was soft. “It’s already over.”

Maybe this was how Orpheus had felt, living in an impossible moment in which she was both with him and not, cursed and free, alive and dead until he opened his eyes and made it true one way or they other. And maybe if you don’t look you can keep both things true. Maybe you can crawl out of hell and kick the truth back into it behind you because somewhere in the pit of your stomach you already know what you’ll see, and the second you realized you knew it was already over.

Abbacchio pinched the bridge of his nose angrily with his free hand. Stupid. Tears were for the living.

“You can’t send me back,” Bruno said. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re—” He shook his head, smirking despite himself. “You’re apologizing to me? For that?”

“Well…”

“It really is you.”

“It’s me.”

It had always been difficult to look straight at him. Bruno was beautiful enough to have a blast radius, and he left afterimages much like a flame, as if to give Abbacchio no choice but to remember that it had been his decision not to look away.

As though it had ever been a decision. As though he had ever had a choice.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, glancing down.

Just a face, a name, a smile at the breaking point, a soft word to pull him back from an edge he had been inching towards for his entire life, he had never understood it, but Abbacchio had felt, he had always felt that Bruno could have stopped an apocalypse in its tracks with a well-timed glance. He sometimes felt, when he caught a glimpse of his own face, that he may have already seen him do it once.

It made no difference. He had been burning from the start.

“That world will be a lot darker for the loss of you,” Abbacchio said.

Bruno shrugged and smiled gently. “The stars shone before me. They’ll shine now that I’m gone.” His head dropped against Leone’s shoulder. “But it would have been a long time before that light shone for me again. I—if I ever remembered how to look for them at all in a world without you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Makes me feel like—makes me think you didn’t—because of me. That you’d be back with them now if it weren’t for—”

“You know me better than that.” He shook his head. “Leone, I was dead before you.”

Abbacchio glanced at him. He sighed.

“I know.”

He was so deeply accustomed to the sound of Bruno’s heartbeat that it had been impossible not to notice its absence, though part of him wished he could have ignored what he didn’t hear, or what he didn’t feel when he reached for his hand under the table at that restaurant in Venice. If Bruno had been more aware of what was happening, he might have pulled his hand away. He might have tried harder to hide it, if it had been clearer to him that he hadn’t escaped, that his body had been killed after all.

Bruno himself hadn’t even recognized that something had gone wrong until his knees gave out on the dock, not out of exhaustion or pain, but from shock, when he finally thought to feel for a pulse that he found had fallen silent. He hadn’t quite been angry at Abbacchio for taking it out on Giorno, though he found he was grateful that his collapse had cut the argument short. He knew that kind of helpless rage intimately, knew that it needed to go somewhere. Even if Giorno didn’t deserve it. Even if Giorno didn’t deserve any of it.

Not that any of them did, but if Bruno started to think about what was right and who did and didn’t deserve what it was they ended up getting, he felt that he would spiral into the kind of despair that proves nearly impossible to escape from considering there can be no arguing with it. He had long since learned not to wonder about what was and wasn’t fair.

Abbacchio, on the other hand, retained more of his old convictions than he was willing to admit, modified by the new conditions with which he applied them; a sliding moral scale, one where there were people like me and people like him, and the definition of fair, in his eyes, was different between the two. Whatever ugly thing ended up happening to him—and he did, of course, expect to go badly—he imagined it would be fair. There were few things he could imagine being truly dirty plays as long as he was the party concerned.

What he wanted for Bruno, as could be expected, was a different story entirely.

Bruno, who had saved all of their lives, at one time or another. Without Bruno, Narancia would have starved to death on the streets, alone; Fugo would have eventually been arrested one way or another by some cop who didn’t care much for those letters of the law he so loved to recite. Mista would still be in jail, and only God knew what kind of person he might have become in a place like that.

Abbacchio knew he would undoubtedly have drunk himself to death if Bruno hadn’t found him that day, soaking wet and furious that a stranger had enough courage to address him at all, let alone learn his name. Whether it would have happened that night, in a week or a month or a year, he couldn’t say. But he had felt it coming, like a rock he had to push off his chest in the morning if he wanted to get out of bed that day. Which, by the time Bruno got to him, was a rare enough occurrence on its own.

And then there was Bruno, and Bruno was the sun, and it wasn’t as though he suddenly wanted to live again, but he found that when the two of them were together an emotion he had already mourned the loss of stirred deep in his chest. It wasn’t quite love, not at first, although later there was no doubt that he had fallen painfully hard for the man. It was much closer to relief, as though the ropes of grief that had bound his heart for the past year were finally loosening, just enough for him to slowly remember how to breathe.

Yet the moment he touched Bruno’s hand and felt the complete and final stillness there, he had known that, while losing Bruno was likely nothing more than he deserved, that fairness did not go in both directions. The eyes he met when he looked up in dismay were still clear and alert, and Bruno looked back at him evenly as the younger boys argued over who could and couldn’t eat eggs, or vegetables, or something along those lines. Abbacchio could no longer distinguish their voices as more than background noise above the roaring in his ears.

He clutched the cold hand tighter, praying he had been wrong. But when his thumb met the soft skin of Bruno’s wrist, the space where he had looked for a heartbeat so many times before, he felt none of the old relief the action had brought in the past. Only silence.

For a moment they stared at each other, neither quite sure what to say.

“Bruno—”

“Leone—”

Bruno closed his eyes and chuckled, and Abbacchio couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.

“Later,” Bruno murmured. He rubbed the back of Abbacchio’s hand with his thumb and motioned towards Narancia, who had just landed an uppercut on what appeared to be a civilian with a glass of Chianti. Abbacchio grunted and let go of him. He reached for his own glass of wine with shaking hands and watched Mista and Narancia dispassionately.

Well, he thought as he got to his feet, everyone needed outlets. Even him.

Later, once their pursuers had been disposed of and Giorno had dealt with the major wounds, he pulled Bruno into a nearby alley while they waited for the others to bring the boat back around. Once more he found his hand wrapped around Bruno’s wrist, waiting for a heartbeat that would never come home to him.

Bruno took a deep breath, leaning back against the dirty masonry. “Leone.”

“Fuck you,” Abbacchio snarled, surprised at his own venom. “You went and—alone, and you—what’s wrong with you? Why are y—”

“There was…” Bruno looked away, towards a nearby church, and shuddered. “I failed to anticipate his power. It was my—I was, I was blinded by—but to save Trish, I…I had to. I had to.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“The damage,” Bruno said quietly, “was fatal.”

Abbacchio dropped his wrist and took a step back, staring at him. He looked the same as he always had, if a little paler than usual, although that could have been chalked up to the stress. If it weren’t for his undeniably missing pulse, he might have been able to accuse Bruno of playing a joke in uncharacteristically poor taste.

“What do you mean?” Abbacchio looked down into his eyes, still searching for a telltale dullness. “Did you—what do you mean, ‘fatal’?”

“I mean that my body was killed,” Bruno replied flatly. “I died. My chest was in—tatters. There was no way Giorno could have found us in time, it’s a miracle I managed to retain consciousness long enough to—”

“You’re not dead,” Abbacchio said, and his voice became feverish as he backed away again. “You’re not making any—you’re standing right here, for fuck’s sake. I’m looking right at you, I can hear you—you’re not some kind of—”

“I’m not a ghost.” Bruno shook his head vigorously. “But I’m not quite…”

He paused. The wind that blew through their hair had that near-water saltiness, though not quite that of the ocean. Still, it reminded Bruno of being a child, as such things so often did.

“Giorno,” he said at last. “The life force Giorno gave me. He couldn’t—there was nothing that could bring me back, but he gave my body enough life force for my soul to maintain control of it.”

Abbacchio stared at him, feeling as though every bone in his body had been turned to ice. It seemed that Bruno was standing in front of him, calmly explaining that the end of the world was set to come about by the end of the week.

“So you could really say I’m closer to a zombie,” Bruno added, smiling weakly.

“How long?”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“How long before—how long do you have?”

“Ah.” Bruno considered, then straightened suddenly as he closed the distance between himself and Leone. Abbacchio looked down at him, at the almost desperate look in his eyes, and waited.

“Giorno doesn’t know.”

“He—what?”

“He doesn’t know that I—he thinks he was successful. He doesn’t know. That’s why I’m not sure, and I don’t—I don’t think he would even have an answer if I did ask, and I don’t—I don’t want him to know. I don’t want any of them to know. Do you understand?”

Abbacchio sucked in a long breath. “Why?”

“Why?”

“I’m asking you why you’re choosing to withhold a fairly major piece of information from the rest of the team.”

“I’m selfish.”

“You—” He stopped and looked down at their hands. He hadn’t remembered Bruno reaching for him, but it appeared that he had, the grasp more like a supplication than a sign of affection. “You…what?”

“You were always going to notice if you were as near to me as you usually are.” He closed his eyes. “I would have needed to push you away in order to keep it concealed, and even then…even then, if these are to be my final days, the thought of going through it without you, of leaving and letting you think that I—”

“And what about me?” Abbacchio pulled Bruno into his arms without thinking, half to keep his eyes away from the tears he felt forming in his own. “How the fuck am I supposed to just—”

“It’ll be alright.”

“You can’t go. You can’t.”

Bruno rested his head against Abbacchio’s chest, listening for the familiar sound of his still-beating heart.

“We deal with it when it comes,” Bruno said. “I just…I couldn’t let you believe I didn’t…want you. I couldn’t. We could all die today, or tomorrow, or—I just need you to know the truth.”

“Which is?”

“I love you.”

“Christ.”

“Leone…”

“I love you too. I do, I—I just—fuck.”

Bruno hugged him tighter to help with the shaking.

“How am I meant to fight,” Abbacchio said, “knowing the one thing I cared about protecting is already lost?”

“My will is yours.” Bruno took his face in his hands and Abbacchio kissed his palm in another ploy to keep his eyes averted. “But you fight your own wars, caro. You have chosen to fight with me, and that is a decision you are well within your rights to make.”

“You are my war,” he muttered.

“Wrong.” Bruno tilted his face such that Leone had no choice but to look at him. “You’re not mine. You don’t belong to me.”

Leone shook his head. “Isn’t that my decision, too?”

“Hey!”

They turned to see Mista waving them down from the end of the alley. It seemed the others had located the boat; Abbacchio had practically forgotten they were in Venice at all.

Bruno sighed. “Time to go, I suppose,” he said.

“I…yeah.”

He flinched a little when Bruno kissed his cheek. His lips, though as soft as ever, had grown cold.

“Oh, Leone,” he breathed. “Tutti i miei pensieri al mio caro esiliato.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about what you told me.”

Bruno glanced sideways. “About what?”

“‘All my thoughts to my exiled love.’” Abbacchio shook his head, and they leaned against a stone wall on the streets of what was and wasn’t Naples. “Wasn’t that a little strange to say to me? Since you were the one who was about to be—you know, ‘exiled’?”

“Mm.” Bruno glanced up at the sky. It was more green than blue, an impossible color for the living, but perfectly acceptable for the mirages of dreamers and ghosts. “I don’t know. I always felt you…exiled yourself, I suppose. Even if you were alive, you were still…you were difficult. To reach, that is. I was never quite sure if I was getting through to you.”

“You did. I was—shit at showing it, and I—but you, I promise you did.”

Bruno smiled.

“You know where I found that line?”

“Found it?” Abbacchio snorted. “And I thought you were just being romantic.”

“No, I—I’m good, I’m not that good.” His smile faded a little. “And…it was, up in Trieste, you know how they have those bookstores with the old postcards and the journals—that people have already written in?”

“Sure.”

“I never really—was never quite sure how to feel about that. Buying people’s memories, or even how right it was to look through them in the first place. But I picked one of them up and that was all it said. No names, nothing else. And I never really…never really forgot it.”

“You didn’t take it with you?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t feel like it was my memory to take. I did leave a postcard of my own, though. To at least…you know, leave something behind in exchange for the—for having seen theirs. I think I’d like to be remembered like that.”

Abbacchio looked at him, fighting back his own smile. “Maybe one day some kid will pick up yours and use your sappy one-liners on her own girlfriend.”

“Oh, I hope so.” Bruno laughed.

They watched the sun drift lazily back and forth across the sky, not seeming particularly committed to heading for dusk or dawn, simply retracing pieces of the paths its living counterpart had taken over the course of countless centuries.

“There’s a dog hanging around here,” Abbacchio said at last. “Strange little—some kind of terrier. I think you might like him.”

“A—a dog?”

“Yeah.”

Bruno paused, considering. “I always liked dogs.”

“I know you did.” He glanced towards the end of the lane, where the narrow alley seemed to open to a bright plaza. “Let’s go over that way.”

“You say a dog—” Bruno allowed Leone to take his arm and lead him forward. “Have you seen many of them? Not—not dogs, I mean, other souls.”

He looked away, not meeting Abbacchio’s eyes.

“Oh, yes. Risotto Nero—you remember him, from the—the assassin unit? Since he and I…same place, same time, we…I think ‘encountered’ would be the right word. I imagine he and his team are likely focused on watching our shitty old boss get what’s coming to him.” Abbacchio chuckled. “They were very pleased to see what your Giorno did to that green-headed guy. Might be an awkward few moments if you run into the members you killed, though.”

“…Ah. And…any others?”

“You’d be surprised,” he murmured. “The connections between souls…they run further than anything I could have expected. That Giorno kid…he’s got…I don’t know how to explain it. It seems like everyone who came into contact with him is linked to—I hate to admit that he might be more important than he seemed, but he…”

“Leone.” Bruno squinted as they finally emerged. “Is that the Trevi Fountain?”

“Oh—yeah. Looks like it.”

“That’s in—” He turned around, staring at the surrounding buildings, having barely noticed the architecture changing. “We weren’t in Rome.”

“No.” Abbacchio stepped lightly out of the way as a wiry teenager came barreling towards them.

“But he was.”

Narancia threw his arms around Bruno and Bruno, laughing in disbelief, swung the boy in a full circle before letting his feet once more touch the ground, though he still refused to let go, and it quickly became apparent that both were in tears. Abbacchio watched, with a respectful nod to the cherry-haired boy with whom Narancia had been skipping rocks prior to their arrival. The boy smiled gently and nudged his companion, another young man with pink triangles painted beneath his eyes. He stood and glanced over his shoulder before the two disappeared, knowing when moments were best left to those whose souls had touched in the world of the living.

He supposed it shouldn’t have been surprising that Narancia had managed to charm them so quickly. Abbacchio himself barely understood who they were; he only knew that he saw something horribly familiar in their eyes. It seemed as though the three of them were not the first casualties of whatever story the kid had got them mixed up in.

“Narancia,” Bruno mumbled, still clutching him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

Narancia appeared to be unable to speak, tears streaming down his face.

“You weren’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t right. You were too young. You were too young.”

“I’m sorry, Buccellati,” he managed, his face buried in the front of Bruno’s shirt. “I couldn’t—he was too fast—”

“No, no, no, no.” Bruno shook his head vigorously. “No. Look at me. Look at me, Narancia.”

He placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders and, reluctantly, Narancia raised his head to meet his still-teary eyes.

“You did everything you could,” he said. “I am proud of you. I am so proud of you.”

Narancia stared at him for a moment before collapsing into sobs again, and this time Bruno fell with him, and it was Abbacchio who leaned down and held the two of them until the shaking slowed.

“Thank you,” Bruno croaked, when he finally regained enough of his voice to do so. “Both of you. Thank you. I’m—”

Abbacchio rolled his eyes. “Enough with the apologies, caro.”

“…Right.”

He looked down at Narancia. “You were…here with someone else before?”

Narancia smiled weakly, wiping at his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “There are a bunch of—you can meet them. If you want. He should meet Iggy,” he said, turning to Abbacchio.

“Is that its name?”

“His name. And yeah.”

Bruno laughed softly. “There will be time for all of that, I’m sure.” He tilted his head back to look up at the impossible emerald sky.

“I suppose there’s something to be said for the nature of forever."

#jjba #bruabba #vento aureo #ok. listen. i wrote the first half of this like months ago #when i first got into jojo #and its just been haunting me since then #i havent read it all the way through i havent edited it im living my truth and posting mediocre content at 1230 am to hide it from the mass #anyways bruabba still owns my whole ass i love them and theyre the reason i ever watched jojo at all #double also combined afterlife theory is the shit and ill never let it go

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