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qaevze · 1 year

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♡bucci coochi.its really vanilla sorry

♡cw: uh afab chr, vv soft dom gn reader, really sappy romantic bullshit, lot of dirty talk &baby calling oops, fingering, cunniligus, vaginal pen., a lot of praise, domesticity

♡a/n: uhh some context u have been asked 2 plan an evening romancing yr babygirl after mentioning offhandedly tht u like being sweet 2 him. i guess. dude whatever i don’t even care. imagine i write a fluffy prologue 2 this

♡a/n again: no one asked for this. no one was going to ask for this. why do i have such a passion for this gay little murderer my unshakeable brain worm. if literally like 2 people like tjis it will b a miracle

“just take me to bed.”

you’re only a little surprised that the flowers and the candles and the wine haven’t phased him at all. you have half a mind to tease him for it, tell him he’s being desperate when you’ve planned such a nice evening for him. but he’s been impatient all night, as much as he’s tried to be subtle. you’ve seen it in how his eyes darted between your chest and your hands as you ate, how he tried to remain as still as possible while squeezing his thighs together under the table, how his fists clenched and unclenched the entire car ride home.

you scoop him up, a smile tugging at your lips as you hold him close and climb the stairs. your final attempt at romance is revealed when you open the bedroom door. bruno sighs appreciatively at the sight— flower petals scattered over clean, silky sheets, lit only by the dim rosy light of the lamps in the corners. you’re sure his love for cliché hasn’t faded— this night was his idea, after all.

but you don’t lose his rapt attention for long, not when you’re laying him down so gently and leaning in to claim his lips with yours. he reaches out for you, like he always does, lacing his fingers behind your head to pull you down, arching up into you when you slot a leg between his.

his quiet sighs and whispers of your name continue as you trail kisses down his neck, unbuttoning his jacket and sliding your hands up his sides. he squirms his way out of the jacket, shucking his pants off and tossing them both out of sight and out of mind.

you’d noticed the cut of his bralette had changed through the cutout of his top, but the sight of bruno underneath you in a new two-piece set he must have gotten specially for tonight—

“you’re staring,” he informs you. “do you like it? it’s all for you.”

you find yourself momentarily speechless, taking in smooth hips, slender legs, black lace and the steady hands that tug it over the curve of his shoulders, exposing his collar to your kisses. “jesus fuck, baby.”

he laughs, soft and airy and beautiful. “always so eloquent,” he teases. “hurry and get this off of me, i can’t wait anymore.”

you pull together the scraps of your composure from the mess he’s so easily made of you and sink your teeth into the soft brown skin of his shoulder. bruno gasps and arches harder against you, grinding down on the thigh you’ve wedged between his legs. you hastily strip off your own clothes, and when you move your leg back between his, you can feel the smooth glide from how wet he’s gotten through the lacy underwear.

“so needy,” you comment, sliding your hand between his spread thighs to drag a finger up his cunt, feeling the wetness there. you bring it to your lips and moan at the taste of him. he tastes sweeter than usual, and you find yourself wondering if he’s done something on purpose just for you. you imagine it: sweet fruit juice rolling over his plush lips with every bite, his face flushing with excitement, thinking about your tongue on his pussy out at lunch with his coworkers, feeling dirty and desperate and so good for you….

your fantasies recede as bruno’s whines bring you back to the present. “i’ve been waiting,” he whispers urgently. “i’ve waited, i’ve been so good. please touch me, baby, i want you so bad.”

you’re struggling to contain yourself as you peel the panties off of him and slide a finger down his folds. you press the pads of your index and middle finger to his hole, watching how he opens for you when you spread him apart.

you blow gently on his swollen clit and he cries out. “please, don’t tease my cunt!” he wails. “i need you inside, i need you to make me cum. please hurry, baby, i can’t take it anymore—!”

you cover his trembling lips with yours, sinking your fingers in down to the knuckles. bruno moans into your mouth, loud and relieved. “thank you, thank you,” he mumbles between your kisses, already a broken record. “thank you, i love you, thank you so much..”

“i love you,” you reply, finally coming back to your senses. the bites on his chest are beginning to bruise, and you lean in to press kisses around the purple rings. “so beautiful f’me, so perfect and sweet. got all pretty and ready for me, so pretty, baby.” the praises roll from your lips, thick and sweet like honey, and he soaks it in, tossing his head back and offering himself up to your mercy.

tugging the bralette down his chest, you lick stripes over the tender skin there, grazing his nipples with your teeth. “taste s’good, all for me baby, so sweet and wet and desperate. you work so hard, poor thing, just need someone to take care of you, huh?” you punctuate the question by slipping your free hand down to rub at his neglected clit.

he gasps, frantic eyes meeting yours. his legs kick out wildly while his hands search for something to hold onto, something to ground him in this pleasure. they find your shoulders, and he clings to you tightly, raking short nails over your straining muscles. his expression grows desperate, and you realize he’s looking for permission.

“it’s okay, amore, let go for me.”

bruno throbs once, twice around your fingers before a sob rips out of his throat and he comes crashing down, coating your hand down to the wrist with slick, thrashing and crying out in your loving arms as you take him apart, just how he likes it.

when he’s relaxed enough, you slip your two fingers out of him, bringing them to your lips. you swirl your tongue around the digits, savoring the way he tastes, committing it to memory. instinctively, you move your head back between his thighs, searching for more of him.

bruno lets out a choked gasp when you touch him again, tongue diving back in to clean him up. “gentle,” he manages to get out, nerves set on fire by your eager ministrations. the overstimulation makes him whine, but you keep at it hungrily, even after your jaw starts aching, until his wanton moaning starts up again and he cants his hips back against your face.

you pause to catch your breath and cast your gaze up bruno’s trembling figure. his dark eyes are blown with lust, staring back at you adoringly as if he were trying to egg you on but unwilling to ask for any more favors from you. you’re pleasantly surprised when he proves you wrong.

“don’t stop now,” he urges quietly. “don’t stop, baby, i want you now.” he rambles on as you fumble around on the nightstand for lube, hastily uncapping the tube and smearing it over your hands. he watches you hungrily, moaning softly as you slick yourself up. “i wish you were inside me,” he confesses between sighs. “please make love to me, make me yours.”

slinging his legs over your hips, you line yourself up to his entrance and meet his gaze. “you’re all mine, amore,” you whisper, a secret for only him, only here, only now. as if any other time could matter.

an adoring smile dances across bruno’s lips as he lets your words wash over him, knees shamelessly dropping open to offer himself better to you. you watch how his face contracts beautifully as you push inside him, eyebrows knitted together and eyelids fluttering. he clings to you, panting softly against your shoulder while he adjusts to the feeling of you filling him.

you let him rest after you bottom out, contemplating. he’s always been a sweet lover, so willing to put your needs before his own, so ready to be claimed and used. though his stamina can go a long way, you worry that the overstimulation might be making him uncomfortable on a night meant to be all for his comfort. then again… while you have him wet and throbbing and needy underneath you… when he hasn’t suggested any discomfort yet…

it’s hard not to want to stuff his pussy until he aches.

“move, please, i want you to move,” comes the soft request against your neck. you draw back to take him in; bangs messily brushed aside and dark hair fanned out like a halo behind his shining face, chest heaving and lacy bralette halfway off, trembling legs splayed around your body.

you decide you want to kiss him at the same time he decides he wants to be kissed, hands looping around your neck to pull you down as you thrust back into him.

he cries out into the kiss when you grind your pelvis against his clit, picking up the pace until the room is filled with the sound of skin on skin. “i love you, i love you, i love you,” he chants like a prayer, and you want to drown yourself in him, in his choked sobs and shaking hands and sweet, chaste kisses, like he’s still embarrassed even when you’re so deep inside of him.

“my strong, beautiful, brilliant man,” you praise, brushing stray strands of hair out of his face. “so determined, so tirelessly working, so good, baby.” though he’s too out of it to respond, you can tell he’s hanging on to every word, so you ramble on. “i’ll take care of you, give you all my love. fill you up and make you mine whenever you want it. make you scream for me so everyone can hear, so everyone knows who loves you.”

you move a hand to rub at his clit, and glossy tears start to slide over his cheeks. “who loves you, amore?”

“you do, you do!” he moans out, and you’re surprised he can still respond, but you double down, slamming your hips into him and rubbing at his clit hard. “that’s right. me.”

your words set him off better than your body.

honey rolls over the spoon, thick and sweet like your praises, golden like the morning sunlight that peeks through crooked blinds. he’s up early as usual, coffee in hand as he drizzles the toast in front of him with the sweet liquid, spreading it on thick.

bruno jumps a little when you come up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist. “good morning,” he greets you softly, breaking the peaceful silence in the kitchen.

he turns to face you for a quick kiss before returning to his breakfast preparations, slicing ripe pears and apples. from over his shoulder, you study his concentrated expression. you find yourself idly tracing a suspiciously bite-shaped bruise on his neck, and he shudders, sending you a look of mock annoyance. “would you mind setting the table, love?”

“surely,” you mumble into his hair, pressing a soft kiss to the juncture between neck and collarbones. “good morning, sweet thing.”

#nooooooo #me after saying i don’t only write afab charas #sorry anon i’ll get u some dick sometime soon #i hate myself i hate tagging #jj🏷️#dom!reader #dom reader #gn!reader #gn reader #x reader #sub bruno #top reader #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #bucciarati x reader #sub jjba #mine

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wistfullywaiting2 · 26 days

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The biggest misconception in the bsd fandom ever to me is people constantly portraying Atsushi as someone who trauma dumps excessively when he canonically barely talks about it at all.

The entire point is that Atsushi does not talk about his trauma he’s just constantly thinking about/reliving it. He can’t escape the memories of his past so he tries not to acknowledge them.

He only mentions it when asked, either directly or when someone asks him to explain himself.

Atsushi doesn’t even give a cohesive explanation for what he saw while under Dogra Magra, he just apologizes to Haruno and Naomi.

If Lucy hadn’t had her whole “you’ve never suffered the way I have” spiel then I doubt even the audience would’ve gotten to find out about his scars

If Akutagawa never asked him how it felt for the orphanage headmaster to die Atsushi would have never told him that he’s been hallucinating.

In the omake where Kyoka asks him why his hair is like that it’s clear he wouldn’t have told her that unless she had asked.

In 55 minutes Atsushi very briefly mentions sleeping on a dirty floor somewhere to Kunikida because he was trying to explain and justify his behavior.

And the thing is that there are scenes that implies that the other characters see Atsushi behaving strangely and are visibly confused because they do not understand what’s wrong with him.

Remember, we as an audience get to see things about characters that the main cast doesn’t. Just because we see into Atsushi’s mind doesn’t mean the other characters know what’s going on in there.

Also little footnote here that I think the scenes with Lucy and Akutagawa in specific are probably references to the moon over the mountain but I digress

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