#i giorno giovanna am fucking lost

[ophelian-darling]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna and Jolyne Cujoh - gn reader.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : There's more than a way to say I love you, yet there are many too ways to say I hate you.

TW : Obsession, delusional thoughts, verbal abuse.

enjoy ♡

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫:

♡ : Thank you for everything you do for me, JoJo.

It fills him with blessing to know how much his words and actions are something with great meaning in your eyes. Faithful servant when in love- except that everything he does sources from the warmest atoms of his soul and from the deepest corners of his heart. Jonathan fights the world to see you happy, and rests with a smile when he earns the slightest curve of your lips; to him, it's the ultimate gift he can ever receive- your Love.

- You mean nothing to me.

Tears- everything that would wash him with agony strikes at once. the sensation of tearing the flesh of a heart open accompanies your words; deeply cutting and painful, causing all of his insecurities to float : Am I being useless again darling? Am I being a burden? Have you grown tired of me? He can't help it when he sheds these tears: He had lost all of your affection and care. the only source of warmth he had, now doused in the cruelest way possible. 

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 :

♡ : I like you , you're awesome!

Just imagine it, that ghost of a blush coffined beneath a confident smirk and a glinting wink! Joseph catches a love fever once you state that his presence around you is enjoyable. He feels that he already aimed at the moon by gaining your trust and company- it meant that you were besotted with him in return, regardless of whatever you said about considering him as a mere brother or a dear friend. JoJo sees the colors of your eyes soften as you say so, it is surely, undoubtedly love!

- We're done.

a swift of a cut that it doesn't elicit any pain at first, then it's repeated again, slightly stinging, then it rolls down your tongue, fully sinking in his soul. How could you?! Was the thing in the middle of your chest a hard stone to not see or feel a fraction of his love towards you?! a heavy realization of being used falls on his head like a heavy anvil: the blood in his veins floats just right under his skin, painting anger as red, yet the pale dread underneath can't be helped. Why? He would scream at you, but the reasons were nothing of an importance, you just toyed harshly with his feelings. 

𝐉𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐊𝐮𝐣𝐨 :

♡ : I'm always by your side. 

It ignites a pleasant warmth within his heart and shines through his eyes; it confesses his undying love and loyalty for you, regardless of whatever mean words he utter. No force on earth can banish him from you: From the depths of Inferno to the ends of earth and above in the heavens, He would remain with you forever, his lineaments engraved under your eyelids and in the darkest curtains of your vision. JoJo doesn't show it, but he's on cloud nine to know that you're staying as well- that he finally earned your love. 

- Nobody loves you, not even me.

He's already aware. Half of people fear him, the other hates him, and there were you, probably feeling something negative swirl inside you towards him, now confirming it with each spiteful letter you let out. Couldn't you just shut the fuck up and swallow it instead of saying it out loud? He spits, the words of you reiterating louder and louder in his mind that now he can't unhear. You've just ruined everything for him, he had peacefully thought that everything went well, that your protests and complaints were just a childish fit- but now, it's all so grotesquely real: you truly hated him, and for the first time ever, he has no idea what he should do. 

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐚 :

♡ : You're cute! I like your hair!

Nobody can stop him, the boy with a heart of diamond and eyes of warm seas! Everything in his eyes glints with beauty; especially you: everything about you is a well crafted detail, say your eyes, your smile or the contours of your face. The subject of his daydreams- they were made of spring rain drops and cotton candy, the enchanting human whom he had a silly intense crush on called him cute! Was there even a better time to be alive? to be praised by someone you adored was the epitome of being coddled beyond any wishes of a young man madly in love!

- Look at you, pathetic and ugly.

Huh?! 

It's all that he can think of as a response. Your words take a slow effect on him; as if he was trying to process it in another different light, in a gentle way that didn't convey the clear in them. At first, He's at sixes and sevens for a few minutes: people who are in love together were supposed to have each other's back, to boost each other's confidence and accept them whatever and whoever they were- so why were you saying this to him now? obviously it wasn't a joke, your voice was too cold to warm the words into a playful comment, he would have accepted them if you were just a tad above expressful, not a doll that just stares back eerily. He should be angry, but it just melts in tears, all of his hidden insecurities emerge into existence, and not even Crazy Diamond is able to fix the shatters of his heart. 

𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨 𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 :

♡ : You mean the world to me.

Galatea to Pygmalion, Juliet to Romeo, Layla to Qays- You to Giorno. Romanticism wasn't something he was versed in, but in a blink of an eye, the world fell into a pink blur, filling everything with such amour a human never had in a little heart. GioGio ponders to himself that you were an Angel, a poor pure plumed creature that tripped and fell into the land of the stained; worth to be kept in a vitrine till the sun burns away. The smile that dances on his lips when he hears your gratitude, the joy he feels when his efforts of shielding you are finally noticed by you equate the flow of sweetness he tasted for the first time he saw you: Love.

- You're a monster. 

The gray flicker in his eyes blends with the greens of his irises; it doesn't reflect on your face that you just hurt him, while having the audacity to brand him as a monster. His patience contained all of your attitudes, he bottled up every evil word you threw at him and continued to offer more than he should for the sake of winning back some or little of your affection, but to no avail. The mayhem under his skin is concealed by force, consuming whatever left of his patience as he makes you toe the line. You're selfish- you always were, yet he can't help his love for you. 

𝐉𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐣𝐨𝐡 :

♡ : Good Girl! 

Valentine, Friends and dates- High school sweethearts and kisses! Her world is a ridiculously colored picture of a sunny day; her imagination paints a world where she is with you and nothing could ever go wrong. How much would she offer to just touch the tips of your fingers with her hands? nothing less than what she is able to count! JoJo wanders around you in the excitement of a puppy around its master, waiting for a treat or a word of praise for pleasing them. She wants you to say it again, over and over again, to no end! A Good girl was a girl in Love! 

- How annoying you are. 

She had heard someone she loved before say this, but who were they? 

Remorse falls heavily on her like a dark curtain- She'd just ruined the best thing she ever had in life. She blames herself for being too clingy, too needy and too desperate- she carries the shame and burden like weights on her shoulders, staggering as the remains of her confidence seep through the fractures. Your sweet words and praises were brightening her existence; was she to be something if you didn't adore her? The talkative, open and daring Jolyne is now nothing but a silent, gloomy and wounded little girl, asking for a little of love and receiving none no matter how much she gave. 

#yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jojo x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo #jjba x reader #jjba x y/n #jjba x you #sfw #yandere jonathan joestar #yandere joseph joestar #yandere jotaro kujo #yandere josuke higashikata #yandere giorno giovanna #yandere jolyne cujoh #yandere jotaro x reader #yandere giorno x reader #yandere jolyne #yandere josuke #jonathan joestar x reader #joseph joestar x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #josuke x reader #yandere giorno giovanna x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #jolyne x reader #jolyne kujo x reader #jolyne cujoh x reader #giorno x y/n #giorno x reader

[beesmygod]

JJBA PART 5, VENTO AUREO IS THE UNDERBAKED MESS I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT FIXING...PART 2

FIX 1: MORE KOICHI FOR THE MASSES

koichi! we love koichi, don't we folks? i know i do.

who's koichi? oh shit, that might be hard to explain.

pictured: koichi, in his dormant, yet most powerful, form.

if you DON'T recognize this little gremlin above, his appeal might be totally lost on you, and his appeal is necessary to understand if i'm going to convince you of what a fucking missed opportunity his narrative purpose could have been.

that's koichi hirose, the short king of morioh. i didnt think i would like him at all after realizing he was being set up as the deuteragonist and companion to the titular jojo of part 4, josuke. like, who the fuck was this little dork? get outta here! im here to see the joestars kidnap children and have homoerotic adventures. i am not here to be subjected to the trials and tribulations of a friendless, spineless, standless dipshit. i assumed he was going to be the designated joestar hypeman for the chapter, a role usually carved out for precocious children.

wrong! koichi gets hit with the stand arrow (the arrow the gives you stands, remember this) early on and gets dragged into a frightening battle of good versus evil right in his own backyard. the arrow and the responsibility that comes with it acts as the main catalyst for his transformation from nottie to hottie. in contrast to the bastardly joestars and their ilk, koichi is a genuinely kind, empathetic, and honest person; he's intended as a foil to the mischievous josuke. he brings to the table the platonic ideal of an every-man who rises gallantly to the challenges thrown at him because its the right thing to do. the series folds koichi as a main cast member to the point where he is one of the very few people on planet earth to draw a smile and praise out of jotaro kujo.

who's jotaro kujo? uhhh.

hmm. i'm getting to my point. but it might require a chart:

POINT: jotaro kujo, the man who probably has with the strongest stand in universe, who appears in 4 chapters out of a total of 9, and who is probably one of the most recognizable and beloved characters in manga history, trusts literally one person on the entire planet: koichi hirose.

SO:

when koichi shows up in part 5 right from the jump to act as the part 4 connective tissue, there is absolutely no reason why he can't stick around for longer than he does canonically so that he can satisfyingly fulfill his role as official vibe checker. let him be important!

---

oh my god, i can hear jojo fans groaning as they scroll through all that shit. so what?! did you make me read all that just to say "there should have been more koichi?!"

look, i need to make sure "we're" all on the same page and understand the perspective i'm coming from. "we", in this case, being the audience of both jojo fans this is primarily aimed at and fandom rubberneckers (greetings friends) who shouldn't have to comb a wiki exhaustively to decode my unhinged ramblings. it's essential background info that koichi is a fan favorite both in canon and in fandom. we gotta understand the role he wound up playing in the overarching struggle of good versus evil in his hometown to understand his narrative role in part 5.

YES. there SHOULD have been more koichi! but not just because we like to see him! he provides an established, trusted moral backbone for the audience. his reputation as a reliable guy is such that jotaro sends him on his own to investigate a young man who may be related to the dreaded bisexual nemesis of the joestar bloodline, dio brando. this is a big fucking deal. if dio has a kid that's really bad. how many backup plans did this guy have (answer: dude you have no idea).

---

ugh! part 5 koichi! if you really want to scream look up how he looks in the rohan spin off series.

in ep 1 of the "golden wind", koichi arrives in italy looking for our new jojo, giorno giovanna (who sucks, but that's a whole kettle of fish we can only barely touch on now). koichi, who has the street sense of one of those dogs that gets carried around in a luxury purse, instantly gets robbed by petty street criminal giorno in a rare burst of personality never seen again after this initial story-line.

okay whatever. after skipping a few eps, giorno and koichi team up to defeat the first stand together after drawing its ire during giorno's weird mafia test. the stand, black sabbath, stabs its victims with a stand arrow (the arrow that gives stands), causing them to either die or gain powers. this might be controversial, but its my personal opinion that its probably not good for a mafia to have a factory that creates jerks with super powers and its right to try to shut that down. after the fight, giorno reveals his dream to koichi of joining the mafia with the explicit purpose of reforming it from within. koichi promises not to report to jotaro about the fact that there's ANOTHER STAND ARROW until after giorno is initiated into the gang. god. jesus christ.

first of all, this GANG-STAR thing is the silliest shit anyone has ever heard. this is literally his for real goal throughout the entire story-line. which could have been great! but people within the fiction should react to this like hes telling them he's going to invent the first bicycle for fish instead of looking at him with the kind of wonder and glory you reserve for jesus christ himself. this train of thought leads to too many thoughts about giorno's lack of personality, so let's set it aside for now. i think giorno should maintain this insane goal, but he should actively have to convince people that he is capable of doing something that fucking nuts.

second, no way would koichi agrees to this absolutely braindead truce lol. koichi doesn't know giorno from adam; the sense we're supposed to get is that koichi innately senses that he's a good guy from his little speech and we, the audience, are supposed to take his word for it. but there is nothing convincing or authentic in how the situation plays out. there's a level of naivety/stupidity applied to the characters involved for this situation to work at all: i dont know why telling jotaro in florida that there's a stand arrow in italy would impact giorno's mafia standing at all. especially considering the arrow breaks and no longer functions shortly after giorno's initiation. koichi should find giorno's dreams and desires spurious and continue his investigation for jotaro, both to impress him and because its the right thing to do. he should also be like "heh, i took care of a stand arrow for you mister kujo". let him have another win. fuck it. why not.

third, koichi doesn't know that the stand arrow is destroyed and i have a hard time believing that he, a victim of said arrow, would do anything other than raise serious alarms over the proliferation of objectively evil stand users in italy where dio's son coincidentally happens to live. the following arc in which giorno and his new team mates go on a hunt for a hidden treasure should have been a series of demonstrations to koichi that italy was being cleaned up by a joestar (as opposed to the danger of being exploited by a brando) and was ultimately in good hands. this would require giorno to get some wins in during this time so he would actually have to do something for a change.

keeping koichi around long past where he does in canon could and should have given giorno a chance to demonstrate a different form of heroism to contrast the pure-hearted pursuit of justice championed by koichi. in eventually winning over a familiar and trustworthy character, giorno would have proved himself to be more than just "dio's son", a fact which should have hung over this part like a dark cloud.

but that's. that's next time.

#jjba #part 5 #vento aureo #golden wind #long post // #essay #s. sorry.

[tribunale]

@cremisino

“Will you both fucking quit it?” Diavolo snarls. He feels too much familiarity with their argument, of course he’d take his own side in that case, but god. Did they realize how fucking lucky they were, this false Diavolo, to still have a modicum of company? 

“At least you still have each other within arms reach, do you think I have so much of a luxury? For all the research I gave to our condition, and perhaps it is a coping mechanism of some fucked sort, at least you still have that coping mechanism.” Diavolo stopped, thinking to himself as looking too weak for admitting it. “Not that I need help coping with this.” 

“Everything is lost to me. My world, both outside and inner. Giorno Giovanna has robbed me of all control, yet I continue fighting, because I know that is what Doppio would have wanted, and for all you say you wish to give up, Solido, I know it is what you would have wanted too - for us to survive, to thrive. Perhaps not the former, but even you would never deny us the latter if it came in a form you could stomach.” 

He continues.

“Sometimes I think I can hear him, feel him, just out of reach. Do you think it would do Doppio any good to see you continuously bicker between each other? Perhaps my empty mind has offered me some clarity on the fact - that it is pointless going in circles. How I wish I had the opportunity to argue like you both do. How I envy you for that fact.” 

He does not stop.

“I am alone here, and with nothing but death to distract myself from our memories - even then, even in death, I find no peace, I am forced to go through it again, to be reminded of how insignificant my struggle is. That no matter how far we ran, no matter who we erased or what, that the ones who hurt us will always have a hold over us. That we will never be free.”

He does not notice the tears in his eyes, or the desperation in his voice.

“I still hear them, out of reach, as if they have to bare witness to this fact as well - and that is what tears me apart most. I would die a hundred times if you, Solido, were to be happy. If but for you and Doppio and Amaretto were to be free. Yet none of my suffering amounts to anything. Not a single thing. And now, I am forced to watch someone dangle an illusion in front of me, a very tempting one, that I would not be alone. That I could direct my anger towards someone else, even if that is myself, that I could have even the tiniest amount of control over something.. Truly, my punishment is of most cruelty - and my punishment for what, for being punished? It is rather fucked, if I say so myself.” 

“But I will not let this be the death of me.” He says, contrary to fact.

#; eremita #; tbd #; Solido is technically right but.. DIavolo's angry adventure.

[cremisino]

@tribunale

❝"I used to believe that myself," says Diavolo, with a modicum of sympathy amidst the apathy induced by all his deathless deaths. "That I would not give up. That there had to be a way back to the top, to recover my throne... I am not so sure anymore. It seems… we have lost the favor of fate itself."

Lost it to Giorno Giovanna, he thinks, bitterly. Through all this time, he still does not understand how he could fall from grace the way he did. How a mere child could dethrone him. And how fate, in the end, discarded him in favor of another.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Solido asks "his" Diavolo, aloud. "All that bullshit about being favored? It was all just that: bullshit. There was never any fucking favor, how could there have been when we grew up the way e did? You just got in way over your head with your new power. Had to mow down everything that challenged you, didn't you? Face it, brother, you were wrong," Solido's expression sours even futher. "I can't believe you still don't fucking get that. Can't admit it, even now."

Diavolo, to his credit, feels offended. "Everything I did was for a reason! There was a point to stay at the apex! So nobody could-… So we wouldn't-… All I did, I did to protect-"

"Shut it! I don't give a fuck if you genuinely thought this was all to protect us. My ass that it was! In the end you failed us!," Solido is fuming now, bringing that anger coursing in their veins to the surface, in an explosion of rage and tears. "You failed to protect Doppio, you failed to protect me, and you failed to protect your own fucking self. And you know why? Because once you had a taste of all that power, it changed you! You were an addict as much as me. As much as the people who bought your dope. But your drug wasn't any coke, ti wasn't heroin, it was all that fucking power. Staying at the fucking top. Paranoid that it was gonna be taken away from you. No fucking wonder it was. I fucking knew this was gonna happen one day, but you and King Crimson just had to keep me out of the way, huh?"

"You would have killed us both had I not done so! Do you truly think keeping you dormant was my first choice?" Diavolo explodes back, ignoring the biting criticism of Solido's words, wanting to accuse him back, wanting to justify himself. "You courted death on a daily basis, you would have thrown our lives away because of the past. I chose to burn it down, I chose to erase it, whereas you were stuck inside it, and wanted to die because of it. You are my brother, and I love you, but you gave me no choice! You endangered us all, Solido!"

They've had this argument before. It always ends the same. It's as much a loop as their endless deaths. Something inside him churns each time, like a heartbreak happening over and over again. Like they're breaking apart at the seams, and, one day, they'll come undone and disappear.

It's the only display of emotion they seem to know now.

"And you fucking didn't? Look at us! If I'd done it, at least we'd only have died once! You fucking cunt!" Solido shouts in response, and then they both remember they were not alone. They slowly move their eyes to gaze upon the other Diavolo, their mirror, their twin.

"Fuck!" muffled into their forearm, Solido screams, but as he does, so does Diavolo, and so do all the parts of him, all in pain, all in misery.

#; specchio #; fallen angel dying #i love it when they fight. it makes my heart ache.

[thekaiqueen]

Giorno: I am lost..

Bruno: Hi lost, im dad.

Fugo: Hi dad, im about to commit arson.

Narancia: Hi, im about to commit arson, im Narancia.!

#i giorno giovanna am fucking lost #giorno giovanna #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #bruno bucciarati #dad #incorrect jojo quotes

[leecherish]

A Brand New Doomsday

Summary: 

“You come into our lives, you sweep them off their feet-, Then you come back, and you have the audacity to-“ His grip tightened on Giorno’s wrist.

“I understand. You are free to do as you please. No one knows I’m here.”

Fugo noticed that Giorno’s eyes had deep, dark circles under them. He grit his teeth, and jabbed Giorno’s hand away from him.

“What’s- What’s the point? Tell me, what would be the point?” Tears of despair and anger started to fall from his eyes, streaming down on his face. “Even if I- Even if I beat the shit out of you- It wouldn’t make them come back.”

_____________

Pannacotta Fugo goes through a journey of emotional growth, during which he learns to accept the past, and have hope in the future.

Remember when Hell had frozen over? The cold still burns underneath my skin The water is rising all around me And there is nothing left I can give

“Is Pannacotta Fugo in this room?”

The five people surrounding the restaurant table have raised their heads as one – including Fugo himself. The man asking the question was a middle-aged man of average height and average looks – a shirt tucked into his jeans, sleeves rolled up on his arms. He carried a medium-sized luggage with him. He looked just like any tourist would.

Fugo recognized a veteran gangster, when he saw one. Blending in, as he should.

So much for a peaceful lunch, though, he thought, as his eyes met with Buccellati’s. He saw the same question reflected in them – why Fugo, and not him?

Even though Fugo was technically Bruno’s second-in-command, Bruno was the one people usually talked to. After all, he was Bruno Buccellati. Fugo knew Bruno is going to be the one to reach the rank of capo one day – so why was this man asking for Pannacotta Fugo instead?

“Yes, sir. At your service.” He replied, standing up from his half-finished slice of pizza.

The man nodded, quickly flashed his Passione badge, and then turned his back to the group.

“Very well. Follow me, Mr. Fugo.”

Fugo looked at Buccellati again, mostly out of habit, waiting for affirmation – Bruno seemed just as confused as he was, but he nodded.

“What did you do, Fugo? Are you in trouble?” Narancia asked in a hushed voice, mouth full of pizza, eyes wide.

“Of course he isn’t!” Mista snapped at the opposite end of the table, but he also had a worried look in his eyes.

“You better not” Abbacchio hissed. “I know you know better than that.”

“I’ll be right back.” Fugo said, and followed the man out the door.

“Listen here, Mr. Fugo.”

The man took a taxi with him to the nearby train station. They were standing next to the station building, facing towards the rails. Tourists were everywhere, arguing with one another, pulling their luggage, chit-chatting. The two gangsters’ voices were easily drowned out by the noise around them.

“I believe you are the right hand of Bruno Buccellati. Am I correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am Carlo Torrone, and I am here on the behalf of the capo of this territory, Polpo. Are you familiar with Risotto Nero?”

“I’m afraid I’m not, sir.”

“Then listen closely. His gang was recently accused of betrayal. Two of his men sniffed around where they shouldn’t’ve.”

And with that, we are off to a good start, Fugo thought, but he remained unfazed on the surface.

“Do you want to know how they were dealt with? One of them…” He held up a photo of a short, black-haired man. “…was chopped up, preserved, and then sent in pieces to the rest of the team. The other…” He held up another photo, this time of a blonde. “…had to watch as his teammate went through the previously described procedure, and choked on his gag.”

Fugo remained silent.

“Do you understand? Passione will not tolerate traitors. Nero’s team was taught a lesson, but I hope that you understand that we do not want to deal with… similar cases. So you, as the second-in-command… Will you keep an eye on Bruno Buccellati, and your teammates?”

Did this man just say that he suspects someone amongst them will betray the organization?

“…You do not want them to end up like Risotto Nero’s men did, do you?”

“I understand.” Fugo finally said.

The man handed him a piece of paper, with an address written on it.

“Good. You can find me on this address. Just say that you are looking for Carlo Torrone. Report back on every Wednesday between noon and two.”

With that, the man quickly got on the train that was just about to pull out of the station, and disappeared.

Fugo didn’t think a lot about this conversation. He would do the weekly reports, same as always – nothing suspicious. It was more of a chore for him, than an assignment.

Up until Buccellati introduced them to Giorno Giovanna on that day. He made a good first impression on them for sure, yet there was something about him that rubbed him in the wrong way.

Fugo couldn’t help but think, he’s going to be the one to betray us.

He felt ashamed by this thought right after – what right did he have to judge people based on first appearances?

The waves of the river crashed into the stairs, the early morning sun reflecting off of it.

The boat has already disappeared on the horizon.

As Fugo was sitting on the stairs leading to the river, watching his shoes being soaked by the waves, he wondered if he was right. He came along, and with him, Bruno… no, everyone else changed.

Bruno is one thing but Abbacchio? Fugo slammed his fist onto the pavement in frustration. Abbacchio! I thought at least you’d have some form of rational thought left in you. But to follow your heart to this extent… Weren’t you a cop, for fuck’s sake?

Could Abbacchio have stopped Narancia from leaving? He respected Abbacchio at the very least. If he would have remained, then maybe-

Tears were burning his throat, as he remembered Narancia. He didn’t even see him jumping into the river, he entirely missed the moment. If he was faster, maybe if he wrapped his arms around him in time, if he didn’t let go…

They didn’t even get to say goodbye.

If only Giorno didn’t-

A savage roar followed by a loud crack was heard far behind him, as Purple Haze slammed its fist down on the pavement, revealing the mud under the stones. A virus-ladden cloud emerged from the hole.

Fugo couldn’t remember how long it’d been since Purple Haze acted outside of his will.

So much for being able to control at least one thing.

He almost died for him back then.

He could still remember the way his heart sank, when he saw Giorno enter the mirror world, his hand bubbling from Purple Haze’s virus.

What is wrong with you, he thought angrily. If Abbacchio tells Buccellati that Purple Haze killed the new guy…

Will it give him the right to say “I told you so”?

But by the end, Giorno managed to turn the entire situation around. And as Fugo watched him, he felt a tiny bit of warmth settle into his heart, like a golden speck, like a budding flower.

Remembering that feeling made him want to break things.

The boss didn’t care about him anymore. He was so preoccupied with the traitors, he never got around to addressing Fugo.

Fugo didn’t return to the headquarters. He rented a flat, and started studying again. Not like he planned to ever go near his school again, but anything was better than the crushing aimlessness he woke up with every single day.

He was still technically a member of Passione, but he was on the run. While, at the same time, he wasn’t running anywhere.

By the time he would have been found out, the boss was dead. Giorno Giovanna became the new boss.

Fugo would find himself in front of Libeccio before he knew it, his hands clammy around his Passione badge. The waiter recognized him.

Through him, Fugo would learn that Bruno, Narancia and Abbacchio died on the mission, and that he will never see them again.

As long as he didn’t see their graves, he could hope that all of this was just a bad dream.

Days passed. Then weeks. Months.

Despite it only being August, the evening was rather chilly. It wasn’t cold, but as soon as Fugo exited the library, he wordlessly thanked his past self for bringing a sweater. A light breeze raised goosebumps on his arms, the setting sun filtering thought the leaves.

Fugo was writing a few articles for philosophy magazines around this time, hidden behind an alias. He didn’t assume anyone remembered the prodigy who beat his professor half-dead with a dictionary, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Truth to be told, he actually enjoyed doing this kind of thing. It was distracting, mentally stimulating, and metaphysics was something he was genuinely interested in – unlike law.

There was something about this evening that finally made Fugo take the fated detour from the way home.

It wasn’t hard finding their graves. Bruno was loved all around the town, so almost everyone could point Fugo to it, and it was obvious that Abbacchio and Narancia would be close by.

The graves weren’t as ornate as Fugo expected them to be. Just a simple marble headstone with their name, and their date of birth followed by their date of death. Suddenly it struck him, how young they were. Abbacchio was only twenty-one, Bruno only twenty – Narancia was only a year older than me, for fuck’s sake. Frustration gathered at his throat, squeezing it, the bitter flare of guilt burning in his stomach. He clenched his fists to his chest, to stop it from shaking.

Outside of the various bouquets left there by civilians, all three of the graves were covered with wildflowers. Yellow for Abbacchio, orange for Narancia, blue for Bruno. Though wildflowers, they were almost too lush to be natural. For a heartbeat, Fugo wondered the cause behind that.

“Hello, Fugo.”  

He flinched – the familiar voice sent a jolt of electricity up on his spine. Giorno was standing behind him, dressed in an elegant black coat, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Giorno.” His name was only two syllables, yet Fugo’s voice still managed to crack.

“I assumed I’d see you here sooner or later.” Giorno stepped to Bruno’s grave, squatted down and started to place the flowers between the wildflowers – rose, chrysanthemum, lily, one by one.

“It’s the ritual of it, I presume” Giorno continued, seemingly answering Fugo’s wordless question. “I know, that they will wither. Cut flowers aren’t fated to last for long. But that fact alone doesn’t mean they don’t have value, while they are still alive.”

He was done with decorating Bruno’s grave, and was about to move onto Narancia’s, but before he knew, Fugo’s hand violently gripped his wrist, and pulled him up to his feet. The bouquet from Giorno’s lap tumbled on the ground, lilies scattering at their feet. Fugo was shaking uncontrollably, and as Giorno finally locked eyes with him, something became clear. Something that was sleeping in Fugo’s chest until now, suddenly became alive, furiously gnawing at him.

It was your fault. You were the traitor I had to look out for. It’s your fault that they are dead.

“I understand.” Giorno was faster than him again, but this was as far as Fugo could bear it.

“You- You understand?! How dare-, How fucking dare you to say that to my face, Giorno Giovanna?”

Giorno was quietly observing his face. Fugo pretended that he didn’t notice.

“You come into our lives, you sweep them off their feet-, Then you come back, and you have the audacity to-“ His grip tightened on Giorno’s wrist.

“I understand. You are free to do as you please. No one knows I’m here.”

Fugo noticed that Giorno’s eyes had deep, dark circles under them. He grit his teeth, and jabbed Giorno’s hand away from him.

“What’s- What’s the point? Tell me, what would be the point?” Tears of despair and anger started to fall from his eyes, streaming down on his face. “Even if I- Even if I beat the shit out of you- It wouldn’t make them come back.”

He crushed a few lilies under his feet as he stormed out of the graveyard.

Giorno was too tired to reach out and revive them.

Fugo avoided the graveyard from that day on.

What I said wasn’t justified, was the conclusion he came to, as he was staring at the wall during yet another sleepless night. He knew what Giorno was trying to tell him when he talked about cut flowers.

Their deaths weren’t in vain.

Fugo bit down on the edge of his pillow so he wouldn’t start screaming into the emptiness of his flat. It didn’t matter what Giorno said, he felt like he couldn’t trust him. Not anymore, that is.

Fugo had the tendency to not trust people with authority. Unless they were Bruno Buccellati. But Bruno was dead.

He hugged himself, burying his face in his knees.

What if I completely forget? What if I never accept? 'Cause when you fade away It's like a brand new doomsday

“Hey, you! Turn around!”

Fugo’s shoulders jerked, as he recognized the voice shouting at him. Serves him well, no one forced him to hang out on the streets near Libeccio. He wondered if he, subconsciously, did it on purpose. Old habits die hard, after all.

He did as the voice ordered him to, and slowly turned around.

Standing in front of him, out of breath was Guido Mista. For a few moments, neither of them said a thing. Mista was panting, as if he was running, after catching a glimpse of a familiar figure in the crowd from the other end of the street…

“Mista…” Fugo began, but the click! of Mista’s gun immediately cut him off.

“Don’t… say another fucking word, Fugo.” Mista made sure that every word of his was well-articulated. His right hand, holding the gun was supported by his left for better aiming, but also to stop it from shaking.

None of the citizens around them batted an eye to the scene unfolding in front of their eyes – those who did, quickly looked the other way, and sped up their steps.

Fugo bit down on his tongue. The thought of raising his hands in surrender did cross his mind, but he felt dumb about it immediately. The least he could do is to not break the eye contact with Mista. If this is where he gets his brains blown out, he might as well go out with retaining his pride.

After a few seconds that felt like minutes, Mista slowly exhaled, and lowered his gun.

“My bad, Fugo. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull a gun on you in broad daylight. My body just… sort of moved on its own.”

“I mean… I wasn’t very surprised by it either” Fugo mumbled, still lightheaded and surprised by Mista’s genuinely apologetic tone. “Please don’t apologize, I-“

“No” Mista cut him off again, seemingly uncomfortable. He looked to the side, as he stowed away his gun. “I… I mean, I was, I am angry, but… I wouldn’t want to kill you.”

Fugo was speechless.

“The way I see it… I just think life is too short for keeping grudges. As angry as I am, I think I can understand why you did what you did at the boat.”

“Mista-“

“I… I just wanted a simple life, you know? Having fun, hanging out with my friends, going on dates, eating good food…” Mista took a step towards Fugo, and his expression hardened. “But it’s not that easy in our line of work. Boarding that boat… It was way too impulsive. I think deep down, I wanted to do the same thing you did.” He looked straight into Fugo’s eyes. “As horrible as that sounds. But that just how I feel.”

They stayed silent for a few seconds.

“I… Mista. Thank you.” Fugo wanted to say more, he wanted to say so much more, but he suddenly felt like all of his energy has been sapped from his body.

Neither of them remembered hugging the other before, but right there, it seemed like the most obvious thing ever.

“Why don’t you rejoin Passione?” Mista asked the question a few weeks later, right after they were done with lunch, and Fugo was deeply immersed in a fashion magazine. “I’m more than sure Giorno would welcome you amongst our ranks again.”

Upon hearing Giorno’s name, Fugo’s gut reaction was so intense, that he almost tore the page he was holding between his fingers in half.

“Uh, well.” He sighed, and closed the magazine, knowing there’s no way he’ll be able to focus on the article anymore. “I think I haven’t been able to really… To, come in terms with…” Mista waited patiently, as Fugo was gathering his words. “There is no way around it, Mista. I haven’t been able to… forgive Giorno.”

Mista’s gaze darkened, as if remembering something.

“I met him a few weeks ago, in front of Buccellati’s grave” Fugo continued. “He said something about… their deaths not being in vain. Followed it up by saying he understands how I feel. At that moment, all I could think of was…”

“I know what you mean by not being able to forgive” Mista interrupted him. “I… also have dark thoughts sometimes. All of it- All of it happened so fast. He has arrived, we set off, and then... I knew them for years…“ He made a vague gesture, and inhaled with a shudder. “So don’t think it was from one day to the other.”

“But you’re still here” Fugo said, as a matter of fact. Mista nodded, and took a sip of his coffee.

“I am. Because no matter how you look at it, it wasn’t his goddamn fault. It was… no one’s fault other than the boss’. But he got what came for him, so… it’s over.”

“I get that” Fugo said slowly, “but you don’t have any obligations, not anymore. Why did you choose to stay? Didn’t you say that you want a peaceful life?”

“Yes, but… Man, fuck it, I’ll just say it – I’d be lonely without the gang. Even though it’s just the two of us now… It still feels like home, you know?”

Fugo knew. The hole in his chest – the absence of a place he could call home. But the something that he became aware of during that afternoon at the graveyard was still there, gnawing, clawing, and howling.

Grief, Fugo realized. Was it grief all along?

“Grief makes you feel… not like yourself” Mista said, as if he read Fugo’s mind. “But if you keep waiting for the day when it will all be over without doing anything, you will never get there. I think you should seek Giorno out, and report for duty. You still have your badge, right? You never stopped being the member of Passione, did you?”

“Do you assume he would just… take me back?” Fugo stared into his cup of Earl Grey, gone cold by now.

Mista scratched his chin, deep in thought. “I think so, yeah. If he didn’t trust you, I feel like he would have sought you out by now.” Fugo looked up, his eyes met with Mista’s. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to take the first step. Maybe he counts on you showing up sooner or later.”

I assumed I’d see you here sooner or later.

“He- We need you, Fugo. Please.” Mista’s gaze was almost pleading. “I swear to fucking god, I miss you so much from there.”

“What about… Trish?”

“She…” Mista’s face painfully winced. “You know, I think she’s in the same shoes as you. Not being able to forgive… but I think it’s more about forgiving herself. After all, it was the boss – her father who killed…” His voice halted. “We haven’t been in contact ever since we came back.”

Thinking back to it, Fugo did see something in Trish that reminded him of himself – maybe it was the “strained” relationship with their parents?

“Listen, to tell you the truth, Giorno’s not doing great” Mista quieted his voice down, suddenly sounding very sad. “He’s very good at keeping up his façade, but he’s grieving, too. Polnareff and I try to keep his spirits up, but…”

“Why are you telling me this, Mista?”

“I’m just trying to tell you that maybe he does know how you feel.”

Like hell, he does, the grief howled in Fugo.

“All of this would be so much easier together. Why don’t you give it a try?” Mista reached across the table, and put one of his hands on Fugo’s shoulder.

Fugo looked deeply into Mista’s eyes. You have changed, he thought.

“Have you eaten lunch, kid?”

Giorno was hard at work ever since he woke up. In the morning he had attended a conference, and he had been sorting files out ever since he got back, seemingly tirelessly.

“Not yet.”

Coco Jumbo was resting on the windowsill. Polnareff’s ghost floating over it shook his head.

“Take a break. I see you’re having some problems focusing.”

“I don’t think your observation is correct.” Giorno murmured, and stowed away the pile of files he was done with. “I’m not taking a break until I’m done with all of this.”

“Giorno, we’ve talked about this.” Polnareff let out a sigh, and propped his elbows on the supposed edge of Mr. President. “You cannot go on and deny yourself basic necessities, just because you don’t think that you deserve them.”

“Mmhm.” Giorno wasn’t paying attention.

“Giorno, listen-“

Polnareff was cut off by Giorno’s office door opening. Mista entered the room, followed by Fugo.

Their eyes have met, and Giorno tried to guess what Fugo felt at that moment.

Little did he know, Fugo was doing the same.

“Pannacotta Fugo, reporting for duty.” He said with one breath, and bowed deeply in the direction of Giorno.

He was accepted without a trial. Fugo was even baffled by how casually Giorno seemed to handle his case. In general, Giorno seemed to handle everything too casually. Which is why…

Giorno really ticked Fugo off. Sometimes it took all of his self-control to not grab him by the collar of his fancy garments, and scream in his face.

Fugo grew familiar with all of Giorno’s little rituals fairly quickly. There was the most obvious one – the little memorial site organized on the top of a drawer. A lily, a yellow chrysanthemum, one of Bruno’s zippers, and a bottle of wine.

The flowers were, of course, cut flowers. Fugo still found the metaphor way too morbid.

Giorno would also absentmindedly turn objects into small animals, and every time he did, the animal would always bear a hauntingly familiar mark – a frog with a checkered, orange-yellow pattern, a beetle with a white shell, adorned with black dots, a snail with a purple, six pointed star on the top of its shell.

As much as Fugo wished to take his mind off these things, he wasn’t exactly neck-deep in work. He would do the occasional patrols around the area, communicate with civilians, and would report back to Giorno every evening. So when Giorno mentioned that he’d need someone for an urgent and private job, Fugo immediately volunteered, without even knowing what the job will be about.

Anything to break the usual routine, he thought. He was lonely when he was living on his own, but doing the same rounds every single day, only to return to Giorno’s office to see him deeply immersed in his work, surrounded with animals who were haunted by the ghost of his family – calling his attention to it, trying not to notice him staring at the space behind him – it drove Fugo mad.

“Then, that’s sorted” Giorno shuffled around with the files on his desk. “The job is to seek out, and hopefully, neutralize a group of ex-Passione members – they’ve not only found out that Diavolo has been replaced, they also have made attempts to join forces with rival gangs, in order to overthrow me. Of course, you will be assigned as my bodyguard for this mission.”

Fugo’s blood suddenly ran cold.

“What do you mean, Giorno?!” Mista broke out from his stance, and slammed his hands down on Giorno’s table.

“This is a very serious issue, Mista. I have to deal with this personally.” Giorno declared in a strong, and clear voice, looking straight into Mista’s eyes. “I am only taking one more person with me so that if I get killed, they can come back and make the necessary arrangements.”

Fugo bit the inside of his mouth. Make the necessary arrangements? Mista might have changed a lot, but Giorno stayed the same, didn’t he?

Part of him always found this aspect of his personality infuriating and somewhat pretentious. But he couldn’t back out by now.

That day, Giorno was wearing that pink attire with the ladybug brooches. Upon seeing him, Fugo almost regret that he also settled back to the two-piece designer suit he wore for their time spent together, earlier this year.

Everything was a constant reminder.

They were standing in the entrance of a church.

“This is it.” Giorno said quietly, as he stepped inside.

“May I ask, what exactly is the task at hand?” Fugo followed him, and closed the door behind them. He ran his eyes along the bench rows. The church wasn’t a very big one, but it was ornate nonetheless – the big shattered glass windows on the side painted colored dots everywhere the light touched down – the cold and elegant marble statues, the frescoes along the wall, the altar.

“Our informant has told us that he has seen the suspects gathering around and inside of this church, so we will search for any sort of clue. If we find as much as a jacket button, we’re already a step ahead.” Giorno sped up his steps, making his way though the nave, towards the altar. “It might be a trap, though.”

“Why didn’t you send someone to scout ahead, then?” Fugo matched his speed with Giorno’s, following him close behind.

Giorno stopped halfway towards the altar, and turned back towards Fugo.

“No human lives are expendable, Fugo. Like I said, this might be a trap. Which is why we are here and not someone else.”

Fugo bit down on his tongue.

“I will go on ahead, and you will stay back.” Giorno proceeded towards the altar, not even stopping to admire the beauty surrounding them.

“Why didn’t you bring Mista instead?” Fugo asked, only to keep it together. “Wouldn’t this all be easier with Sex Pistols around?”

Giorno stopped on his tracks.

“I really don’t like using Purple Haze in closed spaces. Mista has way more control over the Pistols, not to mention-“

“Because Mista wouldn’t stop worrying about me.”

What? Fugo was taken aback by Giorno’s tone.

“And it’s really ticking me off.”

“Giorno… what are you saying?”

As Giorno turned around, and his eyes met Fugo’s, the only word Fugo could describe him with was frightening.

“I though you would notice it, Fugo. After all, you have known him longer than me.”

Shut up. I did. You didn’t.

This conversation really wasn’t going in the direction which Fugo would have wanted it to. He could already feel that familiar sizzle in the back of his throat.

“A defining trait of Mista is staying strong for others. He can’t do it for himself.” Giorno said in a cold, analytical tone, which only fanned the flames of Fugo’s anger higher.  “Before me it was for Narancia.”

Narancia. As Giorno said his name, Fugo was suddenly standing on the stairs by San Giorgio Maggiore again, the rising sun reflecting off the waves of the river. He sees Narancia’s figure from the corner of his gaze, he is violently shaking and holding his head between his hands, Fugo wants to reach out for him, he wants to comfort him, but he feels too angry, too betrayed–

“Do you realize that you’re doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Purple Haze.” Giorno raised his arm, and pointed behind Fugo. “Lately when you're angry but you're trying to restrain it, Purple Haze faintly phases behind your back.”

Fugo jerked back, and as he turned his gaze over his shoulder, he felt his stomach sink. Giorno was right. Purple Haze was standing behind him, though not too defined and faded – its figure, its pattern, its savage eyes – it was unmistakably his Stand.

“Fugo. Are you listening to me?”

Fugo tried his hardest not to.

“Bruno, Abbacchio and Narancia-“

A deafening howl tore out from Fugo’s throat, as Purple Haze’s fists slammed down on the two nearest benches, shattering them with such brute force that the entire church was shaken by it. Cracks spread on the ground from under Purple Haze’s fists.

Giorno jumped back, eyes widened in surprise, mouth left agape. Pieces of wood rained over them, as Fugo regained his balance. A statue behind Giorno has fallen, and smashed onto the church floor, pieces of marble spilling on the ground.

Fugo’s insides were searing with white-hot rage, which made him feel like his skin would melt off his body any second.

“What… What right do you have to decide that?” His voice was raw, he kept his fists clenched, hoping that it would keep them from shaking. It didn’t. “How can you keep saying that their deaths were not in vain?”

“Fugo” Giorno dusted himself off, and summoned Gold Experience Requiem behind him. “I’m warning you, this is not a battle that you want to fight. I am immune to Purple Haze’s virus, and you aren’t aware of what Gold Experience Requiem is capable of – in fact, I am not either.”

“The boss was defeated? You became the head of Passione?” Fugo raised his head, and pulled his mouth into a snarl. “Don’t make me fucking laugh! And you dare to say that no human lives are expandable?!”

Giorno was quick – he called out Gold Experience Requiem in front of him, blocking as Purple Haze unleashed a barrage of punches on them with a roar.

“NO – MATTER – HOW – MANY – OTHERS – DIE – NOTHING – WILL – EVER – BRING – THEM – BACK!” Fugo accentuated each word with a punch, and let out a furious cry from the top of his lungs, as he drove Purple Haze’s left fist into Gold Experience Requiem’s stomach, all three of its virus capsules burst, enveloping both of them in a purple mist – it was as if little needles sank into Fugo’s skin as the virus entered his body, Giorno flew back, hit the altar, shattering it…

Except that he didn’t, and it was Fugo who was thrown back, hitting the floor between the bench rows. He let out a pained groan, and tried to get back up on his feet, but his vision was too blurry, head swimming. His hand entered his vision – Purple Haze’s symptoms were… no more?

“I hate to repeat myself” Giorno’s voice rang in his ears, as he was walking towards the bench row “but because it’s you, I’ll say it again. This is not a fight you are ready for. What you just felt was Gold Experience Requiem’s power. Everything you had done – it has returned to zero.”

A loud crash was heard as Purple Haze smashed another statue behind Giorno. Giorno flinched, letting his guard down for a split of a second, giving enough time for Fugo to launch another attack at him, this time with his bare fist.

“It’s useless. You will never reach the truth.”

Fugo stumbled, and it was as if his fist hit an invisible wall between him and Giorno – how fitting, he thought before he fell back, hit his head on the side of a bench, and blacked out for a heartbeat. Blood trickled down on his head.

“Ghhhhaaarrrrr!” Purple Haze let out a roar, out of Fugo’s control yet again, hammering another bench into sharp wooden scraps.

A moment later, Fugo snapped back into consciousness, and saw Giorno emerging from the vibrant purple cloud, still quite far away. He crawled out to the alley, attempting to draw out the distance between them even further, but he found no strength in himself. He grit his teeth, and braced for Giorno’s next move.

Except when Giorno reached him, all he did was extend a hand towards him.

The gesture hung in the air between them, drawn out, vibrating.

“You can’t…” Fugo coughed, and slammed his fist down next to himself. “You can’t pull a fucking… ‘I forgive you’ kind of shit, you hear me, not right now!”

Giorno was looking down on him without a single speck of pity.

“What kind of ‘boss’ would that make you? I wrecked the entire investigation scene because I couldn’t control my temper. Not to mention…” His voice cracked. “That I tried to kill you.”

The last few words’ echoes quietly died down, before Giorno opened his mouth to speak.

“As to why I am forgiving you… there are many reasons.” His voice rang between the church walls, like a psalm on Sunday mornings. “But one that could possibly reach your heart… is that I know Buccellati would do the same.”

Souls don't break, they bend But I sometimes forget I have to do this for you And the only way out is through

The wind was swirling leaves at their feet, as they stood in front of the three graves. Their coats fluttered behind them. Giorno was holding a bouquet of carnations.

“Fugo…”

“Yes?”

“Did Buccellati have dimples when he smiled?”

Fugo shot a confused look towards him, and was immediately gut-punched by the sight - Giorno was staring at the graves with a vacant expression, trembling.

“I feel like I’m forgetting their faces” Giorno burst out, and he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I feel like the more time passes, the more I forget their features. It’s…” He looked at Fugo, his eyes dry, but filled to the brim with an unspeakable amount of grief. “I wish I had the chance to see them once again, so I could… engrave every single little detail about them in my mind.”

“Giorno…” Fugo was at a loss for words for a few seconds – before a distant memory hit him from the depths of his subconsciousness.

“Narancia had a photo album of us. It is probably still at Buccellati’s house. Let’s go get it.”

“What?”

“Like I said. We could get photos of everyone. I…” Fugo inhaled deeply. “I’m experiencing the same thing, too. I knew them for years, yet some details… are fading for me, too.”

“Narancia took photos?”

“They weren’t good photos” Fugo said, unable to hold back a tired smile. “Well, most of them, at least. Sometimes Mista would take a few, too. I think there are some taken by me. Abbacchio would always say that it’s a waste of time…”

Giorno let out a relieved sigh, returning Fugo’s smile.

“Thank you for telling.”

“Mmhm.”

Giorno carefully arranged the flowers on the graves one by one, and stood up to admire his work. A gust of wind blew over the graveyard, ruffling their hair.

“Those who have passed…” Giorno mused quietly, eyes closed. “Their resolve is still within us, their lives stand as a shining example, as we head on towards the future. Nothing that ever happens is in vain. They can rest easy, because we will carry their will forward.”

Fugo found that he has nothing to say. He could only acknowledge his heart skipping a beat with joy, as Giorno’s palm fit right into his.

#fugio #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #jjba part 5 #pannacotta fugo #giorno giovanna #hi. you might be wondering why the fuck am i reposing a year old fic onto a dead site. #that is because i still havent given up on the hope of my shit showing up in the tag one day. #someone told me you need to avoid putting links to it #but yknow. you can find a better formatted version of this on my ao3 @ leecherish. #so please. if you see this in the tag. #please like it. if you even reblog it id kiss you #i dont care if you havent read it. i just want to know if i can rely on tumblr or if its completely a lost cause #but if you even read it i will give you an even bigger kiss. this fic is imporant to me

[costellos]

author’s note: this wasn’t a request, just something super self-indulgent that I wanted to do! ❤⃛(*ૂ❛ัᴗ❛ั*ૂ) also this ended up taking 2.5 hours to write aldkf;j so much for unwinding at the end of the day. overall, I’m super proud of how this came out — please enjoy!

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang realizing that they’re in love!

bruno bucciarati.

Bucciarati realizes he’s in love when he sees you defending civilians.

he is a man made of love. for his people, for his community, for his goals — he firmly believes that everyone and everything can be built on yes, but more importantly, taken care of.

he sees you protecting an elderly couple during a stand battle. in a split second do you throw your stand at the couple, taking a hefty amount of damage in their place. you’re bloody and your arm is definitely broken, but you still turn to them. "you need to leave. now,” you say. although your words are harsh and hoarse, your smile reminds them that yes, everything will be fine, I just need you to trust me.

you didn’t have to protect them. any other gangster would have left them to die. they’re old, no one would miss them.

but you did. you put these two strangers, two no ones at the wrong place at the wrong time, before yourself. even if it meant you’d die.

Bucciarati would visit you shortly after the battle. Giorno had already tended to your wounds, evident by your lack of bandages. his hair is normally neatly placed, but it looks like he had been rustling it, with his clips out of place and the braid atop his head uneven. his concern is apparent; he’s wracked his brain waiting for your recovery. you knew that Bucciarati cared about his team, but when did he care this much? ↳ “I admit, your actions were certainly reckless,” he would say to you, taking a seat beside your bed. “you’re lucky that fight didn’t end worse than it did. nonetheless...” his voice is tired yet soft, comforting. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m... I’m incredibly glad.”

leone abbacchio.

Abbacchio realizes he’s in love when he sees you upholding true justice.

although he would never admit it, he is haunted by his inability to save his partner during his time as an officer. as such, Abbacchio envies those who back justice in spite of the system Italy lives under.

you’re patrolling one of La Passione’s turfs with him when you see it: two officers harassing a young girl. even though Abbacchio tells you not to get involved, you quickly storm over to the scene. their voices are loud and clear, despite them being several meters away. the girl looks scared.

it turns out she had stolen a handful of painkillers from the corner store. the cops noticed her scurrying out as they were buying a pack of smokes. and now, they were threatening to take her into the station. “I need them for my family!” she explains, but the cops don’t buy it. they huff something about her bringing them to school and selling them to her friends.

“here. I’ll pay for her. just leave her alone.” Abbacchio watches as you flash 30 euros to the cops, more than enough to pay for the medicine. playing them at their own game, he sees. thankfully, they relent, pocketing the money and leaving the scene. and after you talk to the girl, explaining that if she needs more help to come find you, you both leave the scene too.

it’s a brief affair. truthfully, he wouldn’t have gotten himself involved. he wishes you hadn’t either. it would’ve been less of a headache, and now that girl is going to pester you again in the future. but he can’t stop replaying the scene in this head. how you willingly stood up for her, reassured her that everything would be okay. how you smiled and looked so content after the fact. ↳ “ I envy you,” he would say as you walked away from the scene. “doing the right thing is...” he pauses. stupid? naive? “...it’s not easy. you didn’t have to do anything but I admire your valor. just don’t be surprised if that girl comes up at your doorstep begging for more money.” nonetheless, he wants to learn more from you. to be good again, he thinks. maybe then he can be someone that he himself is proud of. and maybe, eventually, he’ll make you proud too.

giorno giovanna.

Giorno realizes he’s in love when he sees your ambition.

he prides himself on his resolve. to him, resolve is committing to something regardless of the difficulties that a person faces. seeing you be so goal-oriented would make him believe that he’s found his match.

it doesn’t have to be a huge goal, like dedicating yourself to a field of practice or learning a new language. it can be as simple as trying to keep your houseplants alive. in fact, those little things come off as more charming to him. it shows that you’re passionate about everything you do, no matter what it is.

seeing you continuously try despite numerous failures would make Giorno’s heart pound. you refuse to give up. even with everything against you, you still roll up your sleeves, take a deep breath, and pick yourself up again. he adores this about you.

he realizes it when you’re rambling about your next move in your goals. your face is so excited, your eyes so wide and bright. your mouth is voicing your steps a million words a minute but all he can focus on is how beautiful you look. the smile on his lips is unmistakable. ↳ “tell me more. I want to know everything. tell me about every detail, every step, what you’ll do when you’re finished... all of it.” he won’t say it — after all, he doesn’t want to come off as too desperate — but he wants to be there every step of the way with you. and when you’ve completed your goal, he wants to be the one next to you, the one to say, “I am so, so proud of you.”

guido mista.

Mista realizes he’s in love when you laugh at one of his jokes.

life should be simple. that’s the mantra he lives by. despite being a gangster, he just wants to have a simple life filled with simple pleasures. one of those ways is through telling stories.

it happens when the group is eating dinner at a local restaurant. Mista is telling some long-winded anecdote, something about how he heroically beat up a landlord for harassing his tenants over money. at the end, it turned out to be the set up for a really brief and really stupid punchline.

everyone is looking at him. “ah? ahhhh?” he muses, but no one responds. the silence in the air is unbearable. hm. wow. is it hot in here or what? finally, Narancia breaks the silence, muttering that he doesn’t get it. Fugo tells him that Mista could have made the joke so much shorter. Bucciarti exhales quickly from his nostrils, a half-assed attempt at laughing. Giorno and Abbacchio don’t say anything.

but then you. oh, you. it takes you a moment to get it, but when you do, your giggling disrupts the awkwardness. it sounds like bells, Mista thinks. sweet bells, ringing like how they used to at the church every Sunday morning in his hometown. it makes him feel warm, welcome, and he can’t help but feel his face flush when he hears your laughing.

Mista stays in place afterwards, pushing his white beans to and fro on his plate. he’s not hungry anymore. he keeps looking up at you, and while he had acknowledged you were attractive before, something about you was now beautiful. you were happy here, with your eyes bright and your smile wide. eventually, he would say: ↳ “hey, thanks for covering me back there. those guys never laugh at anything I say.” he rolls his eyes playfully, adding a slight shrug of his shoulders. “lemme make it up to you. what can I do for you?” he’s trying to be smooth, but he’s so giddy at the prospect at spending more time with you!

narancia ghirga.

Narancia realizes he’s in love when you don’t lose your patience with him.

he doesn’t have much of a formal education. hence, critical thinking skills don’t come easy to him. he tries his best, he really does, but it’s difficult when he’s hardly flexed his brain.

he’s writing a song. nothing fancy, but music has always been a part of Narancia’s life that he wants to give it a go himself. maybe one day he’ll be a famous hip hop artist, touring across Europe and maybe even the U.S. one day! the thought makes him excited. but for now, he needs to establish the lyrics.

rap is easier said than done, though. Fugo is teasing him about his inability to write poetry — what makes Narancia think that he could write a whole song? he grits his teeth and turns back to his paper. 

that’s when you approach him. you sit down with him, asking him what he would like to write about. “oh, uh... growing up in the streets, I guess,” he mumbles. he’s taken aback by your help. plus, talking about it now makes him embarrassed. but you don’t judge him, no; you sit down with him and try to help him nail down the theme. and once you have that, you assist him in finding snappy lyrics and catchy rhymes. 

you don’t criticize him for his ideas. you don’t yell at him for his suggestions. you just listen and add on. the encounter is foreign, to say the least... but not unwelcome. Narancia finds your help incredibly productive (much better than Fugo could ever offer him). and the time goes by so fast! within a few hours, his song is done. yet he’s not happy... no, he starts to feel lonely the moment you stand up, off to assist Bucciarati with whatever he needs. ↳ “wait, hold on, [Name]!” shit. his voice is way too desperate. he softens it as best he can muster: “can... can we write another song sometime? I have a lot more ideas and I can’t do it without you.” fuck. he did it again. but when smile at him and nod, promising that you’ll help him hit the Top 40, Narancia can’t help but smile back.  

panacotta fugo.

Fugo realizes that he’s in love when you put him before yourself.

genius. prodigy. failure. Fugo is defined by how others see him. after his parents abandoned him for leaving an abusive establishment, he finds himself lost in the world. who is he? what is he worth?

he’s escorting you to your mission when his car is attacked by a rival gang. the assault is a blur. he can remember the car flipping over, tumbling off the road and into the Mediterranean Sea. it happens so fast. the salty water surrounding you both. the windshield cracking. the airbag goes off, suffocating him. he can’t see. he can’t breathe. and suddenly, it’s dark.

when he wakes up, he realizes that you’re both on the beach. “where are we?” he musters out. it hurts to talk. you hush him to take it easy, that he had most certainly broken a few ribs. and that’s when he sees it: when he looks down, his wounds are tended to. gashes have been tenderly wrapped in gauze and minor cuts treated with balm. a pain relief patch has been placed on his chest, no doubt where the air bag hit him. but when he looks at you, you’re bleeding through your bandages.

that’s right. there was a first aid kit in the car. based on his injuries, you spent the majority of supplies on him, even though you definitely had it just as bad. “why?” is all he can say.

why? you shake your head. “because you’re my friend,” you answer, adjusting the gauze on his wrist. “I’m taking care of you because you’re worth it.”

your words catch him by surprise. he doesn’t believe it, but... your face is honest enough. his thoughts are jumbled, as mixed as the sand and water at the shore just a few meters away. and when your hand touches his wrist... he shakes his own head.

↳ “you should’ve tended to yourself first.” his tongue tastes of nothing but blood and salt and his words show it. a beat, and gentler this time: “I appreciate your thinking of me. thank you.” that’s all he can say, at least for now. it hurts to much to talk, moreover think. so he places his hand over yours as a gesture of thanks. friends, huh? the idea before sounded laughable, but now... there was something warm about it. the answer to his question — who is he? — had come as quickly as the waves beneath him: a friend.

#bucci gang #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #giorno giovanna #golden wind #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #headcanons #part 5 #toya whisks u away

[jojoimaginestories]

Thank you (Giorno Giovanna)

Thank you

Paring: Giorno Giovanna x Fem! Reader Words: 1699 Warning: Mild Language, Fluff, Protective!Abbacchio a bit, Bruno wants to play matchmaker, kind!Reader, a little bit dark but not EXTREMELY dark Requested By: None

**Gif not mine**

Some people would describe you as a broken soul. You were between this existence and the land of the dead. Some would say you had lost your will to live and were just trying to find someone who would give you that one shred of love you ask for. Some have just assumed you were extra baggage no one claimed. You were nothing, in their terms. Others, however, described you as something differently.

You did things for the kindness of others. They explained that you haven’t found your path and were a bit misguided by others. You were tossed on a beaten path and came out scarred. Well, they weren’t long. Life itself was scarring. It gave people wounds deep within, things that needed to be buried up and held inside.

Despite you being in your mid to late teens, your experience made people think you were in your late 20s. Wait until you tell them your age. Their jaws will drop in an instant. The first person whose jaw didn’t drop was your leader, Bruno Bucciarati.

Bucciarati had found you while you were young and easily influenced, but he knew really why you were the way you were. Years of neglect, searching for something to do, searching for a purpose. He was one of the men in your life that gave some meaning. The second, was Leone Abbacchio. Back in his cop days, he found you searching through a trash can trying to find food and he bought you something to eat. You were very thankful to him. The day you found out he wasn’t a cop anymore, you asked Bucciarati to find him and scout him. That day that Abbacchio joined, you were grateful. You had already met Fugo by that point, then came along Narancia and Mista. You had your own family, and had found a piece of something you had searched for.

The day Giorno Giovanna joined Passione, you felt that he had different intentions than the others. There was something about him that didn’t settle with you, but it couldn’t be that he was bad or anything. He was actually quite nice to you, in fact, he warmed up to you due to how close you both were age-wise. He opened up to you and Bucciarati more. Abbacchio had a thing against him, but the others were fine with him.

“Hey, Brat,” Abbacchio muttered towards you as you looked up to face him.

“Yeah Abba,” You asked innocently.

He ruffled your hair. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for a few days. It’ll just be you, Bruno, and the other brat,” He hummed. “If he does something to you, I’ll fuck him up, alright?”

You blinked. “…Do you mean Giorno?”

He grunted at the sound of his name. “Yeah. I mean him. If he does something, I’ll make him wish he was never born. Alright?”

You slowly nodded. “Don’t threaten him like he’s going to murder me. We’ll be fine, alright? You better come back,” You stood and puffed your cheeks towards him. “Last time, we couldn’t play cards and you promised we would.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be careful.” He ruffled your hair again before walking off.

You watched him and the others depart, wishing them luck and waving bye. You saw Bucciarati turn towards you and Giorno as he nodded.

“I have to go somewhere for a bit as well. I won’t be back until tomorrow, hold down here (Y/n),” He nodded to you, then nodded towards Giorno. “Make sure she doesn’t get in trouble. She does that often.”

“…Not often,” You puffed your cheeks out. “But sometimes…”

“Exactly,” He chuckled and left.

You grabbed your book that you were reading and returned to your sitting position on the couch, leaving Giorno where he stood.

“What’re you reading (Y/n),” Said boy appeared near you as he looked at the book in your hands.

You perked up. “This is a good book! It’s about a knight fighting for a princess against the whole kingdom because she’s betrothed to another. It’s so cheesy, but I like it!” You grinned and looked up at him. “What’re you gonna do, Giorno? You can practically do anything while they’re gone to keep yourself busy.”

He stood up straight. “I might just go on a walk. I’m a bit hungry actually.”

You stood up next to him. You weren’t that short compared to Giorno, but you still had to look up at him. “Then let’s go! I know a place that sells home cooked food~!”

You dragged him along and giggled. His cheeks were a bit flushed.

--

You two spent the day walking around the city. You admired a lot of things, mainly scenery and little snacks you two decided to eat on your adventure. What Giorno did was admire you. You see, ever since he met you, he couldn’t help but feel attracted to you. He thought there was something enchanting about you, something he couldn’t ignore. He wanted to say something to you, but knowing who was there to protect you, Abbacchio would be first to deliver a swift ass-kicking to Giorno for tainting you. Though, really, you were simply an innocent girl just trying to find her path. And he wanted to be there every step of the way when you would soon find your path one day.

“Look, it’s (Y/n),” You both heard. “She looks so happy for once, maybe someone finally wants her.”

“Oh, I doubt it. I heard she’s a prostitute. She sells her body because she can’t find anyone who would want to touch her.”

You froze at the voices. Your happy exterior vanished as your mind became hollow. It was typical to hear things like that at this point, but it didn’t stop your emotions from feeling something from it. Giorno saw your face and thought. He breathed. He cupped your cheeks and made you face him. He pecked your lips gently and pulled away.

“Don’t believe them,” He murmured. “You are the happiest girl I’ve ever seen. Even I know there’s something enchanting about you, and rumors won’t change that.”

Your hollowed eyes returned your emotions as you stared at Giorno’s fiery-green eyes. He pulled away and tugged on your hand.

“Let’s get you some gelato. I want your smile to return.”

You stared at him as the two of you walked. You moved towards him and wrapped your arms around one of his. You stared at him in awe.

“Why’d you just kiss me,” You mumbled.

He blinked as his face got red. He looked away from you and rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I… I just wanted to, okay? Don’t think so much into it,” He murmured.

Your eyes glowed. “Do you like me, Giorno?”

“Of course, I do. Everyone in Passione does.”

“But do you LIKE me? As in, are you in love with me?” You smiled. “Do you?”

“…I may…”

You giggled. You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Then I’m in love with you too~!”

He looked at you. “Won’t the others hurt me for confessing my feelings for you?”

You shook your head. “No, just Abbacchio, but if I explained how you defended me, he’ll just reprimand you. I’m pretty sure Bucciarati had nothing planned and wanted us to be by ourselves.”

Giorno blinked in realization that the way Bruno left was a bit too sudden for his liking. “Huh… do you think that clearly?”

“I study people for a living, Giorno,” You winked. “It’s my job to.”

His cheeks flushed a bit as he smiled. “You should tell me more about it.”

“I will when you buy me gelato first~! That way, we can properly enjoy this date.”

--

By the time the others returned, they saw Giorno leaned against you as you were reading. You looked up and waved.

“Did you two fight while were gone? You both look tuckered out,” Mista chuckled.

“Aw, we missed the fun,” Narancia pouted.

“We didn’t fight,” You sighed. “You think so lowly of us,” You pouted.

Abbacchio’s eyes darted between you and Giorno. He glared at him. “Oi, brat, get off of (Y/n),” He muttered and almost kicked him.

You gasped. “Hey, don’t mess with my boyfriend,” You muttered.

They all gave you a shocked expression as Bruno sipped his cappuccino in a recliner. “I told you all leaving them alone was good,” He hummed. “Give me by bets now,” He held his hands up.

Fugo grunted. “You staged it, you know that,” He asked.

“It was just convenient.”

Fugo turned towards you. “Was this forced,” He asked. “I know you rush into things quickly, (Y/n).”

“No, this wasn’t force,” You waved dismissively. “I’m full of genuine feelings. Now seriously, he’s napping Abba, if you kick him, I will kick you.”

“She won’t hesitate either,” Narancia laughed. “She did that once and your headphones almost broke!”

“It was almost scary,” Mista shivered. “That’s why I stay on her good side.” He walked off.

Abbacchio still glared at Giorno. You leaned forward a bit and looked into his eyes. “He saved me from these women calling me out on the street, you know? One called me a prostitute and said that no one loves me. He reminded me that I am loved.” You smiled. “So be nice to him.”

He huffed. “Alright, fine, I won’t kick his ass. But he better watch himself,” He muttered and walked off. “I need a bottle of wine.”

“Thank you Abba!”

Giorno woke up from his nap as he looked up at you. “Why did I hear voices,” He asked quietly.

“The others got back. Bucciarati is now richer, Abba was a bit pissed but he won’t hurt you, Mista and the others are cool with it, and I’m pretty sure Fugo is going to punish Narancia with math. You didn’t miss much,” You winked.

“Huh. You did say that Abbacchio wouldn’t hurt me but reprimand me.”

You nodded sharply. “I’m a smart cookie! He’s just telling you to watch yourself.”

He chuckled. “You’re lively aren’t you? You’re certainly not hollow.”

Your cheeks flushed a bit as you stared at him. You smiled softly. “Thank you, Giorno.”

#jojo’s bizarre adventure golden wind #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno giovanna #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna fanfic #giorno giovanna imagine #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader #jojo x reader #jjba x reader

[dongiovannaswife]

No one like you | GioLena

Second part to Giorno’s birthday fic, this time nsfw!! Mdni. Please read the warnings and read responsibly.

CW: dry humping, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, stand play, overstimulation and edging, creampie, soft but rough (?) S*x, dirty talk, little tiny bit )( of manhandling and language warning (I mean,,,, lmao). In short: horny dons. Bonus; after care with soft moments and a bit of humor unu (little bit of jealously, but nothing exaggerated —includes food mentions.)

Tittle ref; no one like you by scorpions ;)

Set the night after gettting there —i didn’t had the energy to write all that, sorry ;w; 

Part 1.     Part 2.

When the sun rises high in the sky at noon, the couple arrives at the apartment once again after a short trip around the surroundings. Tourism, he had said to her in a cheeky tone —and even if they hadn’t bought anything at the moment, there were some souvenirs they had thought to get their family and friends, but nothing sure yet. Australia was a paradise, and Giorno couldn’t get enough of its beauty.

But right now, none of it was more important than the question lingering on his mind, tied explicitly to another kind of need.

Exploring the apartment, Giorno found himself wondering when his wife would lead him to the bedroom —he was more than eager to get there.

And soon enough, she looks up at him over her shoulder, hips swaying in a teasing manner as she opens the door, stepping inside in silence with him trailing behind. “And this, birthday boy, is the bedroom —as you can see this apartment is more of a small house.” She winks to finish her sentence, hands on her hips as she turns to look at him and stop before him. “Hope you like it, baby.”

Closing the door at his back, the Don’s green eyes quickly scan the room. White and beige walls surround them with the queen sized bed resting in the middle of it. The bedroom is connected to a bathroom through a burgundy door. It doesn’t have decorations yet, but he can think of them later.

Giorno almost purrs when his wife presses her chest against him, distracting him from everything; the sudden contact makes him shiver, feeling the size difference more than ever. The way she looks up at him through battling eyelashes and a fake innocent smile making him twitch instantly, starting to get hard.

“So,” he murmurs, finally getting back to that question, wrapping an arm around her hips, “You said you are my gift, didn’t you?” his hand drops lower, gripping at her ass. “Tell me, baby, do I get to fuck my pretty little wife already?” she whines, eyes closing with raw need as her fingers sink into his biceps. He chuckles, darkly even, as he leans over to kiss her forehead.

“Don’t get so shy now, you’ve been teasing me all day. Isn’t this what you meant?”

She hums, reaching up to cup his face and bring him down for a peck that becomes two, three, four until he growls onto her mouth, biting at her lip so she moans back, and taking advantage of it, his tongue quickly finds its way inside her mouth, exploring and tearing moans and gasps from her before he pulls away —a string of saliva connecting them as he pants, eyes closed and cheeks flushed.

“Gio,” she calls, breathless. “I wanna make this all about you.” She runs a sharp black nail over his jaw, smirking when he opens his eyes and his pupils almost hide the green pools she loves so much.

Giorno’s chuckle rumbles through his chest, devil like but still soft, “Baby, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You sure?”

She smirks, standing on her tiptoes while he bends over so she can reach his face. Tilting her face, she goes for his ear, where she whispers. “You know I am, Giovanna.”

He smirks, hands traveling downwards until he cups the back of her thighs, at first gripping at the flesh until the gentle feeling of her arms around his neck gives him the green light to lift her up, making her wrap her legs around his waist as he stands to his full height, walking blindly to the edge of the bed.

“Giobaby.” She murmurs in a singsong tone, leaning in for a kiss that doesn’t fail to make him stop and focus on it, grunting when she cups his face and presses her chest against him, making his mind race with all the thoughts he had been repressing.

“For fucks sake, Helena.” He murmurs when he breaks the kiss, panting against her lips as her lips curl up in a smirk. “You always do this.”

“What?” she murmurs as he finally makes it to the bed, turning and sitting at the end of it with her straddling his hips.

“Drive me crazy.” He hooks his fingers over the straps of her sundress, sliding them down until her shoulders, cleavages and a part of her chest are exposed —he leans down then, smirking and sighing once his lips land on the skin of her neck, leaving a few openmouthed kisses there as she sighs, arching her back onto his touch. “See?” he whispers, lips grazing her skin as he spreads his palms over her hips, trailing down until he brings the dress up to her hips and, with his hands settling there, his grip tightens as he pushes her to his clothed erection, pressing down enough to tear a delighted whimper from her. “That’s what you do, doll —make me so fucking hard.”

Lena’s breath is hitched and her voice is barely above a whisper as she mutters, cheeks flushed as she keeps pressing down onto him, “It’s so strange to hear you curse, baby.”

His chuckle sends a shiver down her spine. “Does it bother you?”

She hums in a negative answer, cupping his face and pressing down as she pushes her chest onto his, biting his lip so he opens his mouth and, this time, it’s her the one exploring his mouth as he gives up control, letting her grind and touch him as she pleases. Although he could push her down and take over, the feeling of her smaller form on top of his, dominating and tearing such deep and raspy moans from his mouth has his head spinning, lost in the moment.

“Tesoro,” she calls between pecks. He grunts, hands clasping around her waist as he coaxes her into moving on top of him, simulating her movements as if she was riding him. “Mhm,” a moan cuts her off, but she keeps on through pants and the smallest of voices. “Do you trust me?”

Giorno’s hands stop their movement, letting her sit on his clothed cock as he gives her a soft, half lidded gaze. “With my life,” he confesses. “Why?”

His answer comes when the smell of lemon tea fills his senses as she reaches over, unwrapping his left hand from around her waist and places her open palm against his, intertwining her fingers in a silent confirmation that she truly trusts him —all while her eyes never leave his, serious despite the need behind the sweet light brown of these. The language of her orbs asks for his consent, for a way to keep going.

His fingers intertwine with hers, slowly but firm enough to make her smile at the feeling of his warm hand clasping hers. The rustle of a chain emerging from her ribcage makes him look down as it circles all her arm from the elbow until it reaches his hand, where it wraps around his hand and travels down to his wrist, where it forges a connection between them, represented when the chain closes it around itself, the red from the fire subsiding until it turns into black.

A warm feeling spreads through his wrist and down his arm, reaching his shoulder and quickly spreading through his chest as Wire starts to act upon him. If he had to put it into a metaphor, then he’d compare it to the feeling of someone digging into his soul, looking for the place his stand resided. Some could claim the soul overtook the shape of the body, but he was sure the soul existed apart from the body.

Wire can extract a part of the soul —and despite how scary that is, technically, he doesn’t feel anything but admiration as his wife leans closer, kissing his lips as her stand looks through him in search of that special part of his stand that she needs.

The chain comes back to life, shining red for a moment before her eyes turn golden when she breaks the kiss —and he takes this as a sign that she found it, and is burrowing it.

She smiles, letting the chain disappear. It is not necessary to keep it out while she uses the ability.

“Ready, baby?” she asks, hands massaging his shoulders while she expects an answer.

“Always, amor.”

She grins, letting Gold Experience’s power flow through her.

And then, the cool air from the room hits Giorno’s skin. Looking down with a raised eyebrow, he’s met with the sight of every piece of cloth of his turned into sunflowers, pooling around them. Chuckling in amusement, he looks back at her, noticing her dress still on. “Aren’t you overdressed, sweetheart?”

She shakes her head, standing from his lap and, parting his legs with her hands on his thighs, she kneels between them —a mischievous smirk present on her face as she replies, “Patience, Giogio: we’re just getting started. This is your gift, remember? After this, you can do whatever you want.” The warm feeling from before comes back as the soft scent of lemon tea fills his senses: that part of his stand is back.

He groans, “You know I get selfish when you say things like th— fuck.” He tenses his jaw, mouth falling closed as he stares at the image before him: her hands are so small she has to use both to circle his cock, black nails contrasting with her pale skin and making the vein on the side of his length stand out as she slowly pumps him, using one of her thumbs to spread the precum through the head, and down as she keeps lowering her caresses. She stares back at him through battling eyelashes, as she leans in, slowly and teasing. Her tongue darts out, licking her lips first before she kisses the tip, circling her tongue around it and sucking it in inside as far as she can go without hurting herself.

“Baby,” he mutters through gritted teeth, hands reaching out to tangle themselves through her curls, gathering them into a messy bun; even with the thought of snapping his hips up and burying his fingers onto her scalp, he stays still, fingers carefully trading through her hair so he doesn’t mess up with it. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He murmurs lasts, thinking back to that time she opened her mouth far beyond her limit, cutting off the side of her mouth. Despite his desperation, the last thing he could think of was harming her.

She hums around him, sending him a kind look before she closes her eyes, bobbing her head up and down as her hands work around the rest of him. Giorno’s eyes close as he throws his head back, mouth falling open as he allows himself to let loose. Being his voice the only thing he still has control over, he allows himself to whine, moan and groan as she keeps on.

A sudden moan from her sends a shiver down his spine, making him throb. His eyes open immediately as he looks down, watching as she rubs her thighs together, hands and mouth still around him. A smirk crosses his features as he grunts, slipping a hand into her jaw to make him look up at him.

She pulls away enough to look up at him. Drool and precum stain her lips and chin, and the sight almost makes him burst right there.

“As much as I love your mouth, I want you in all fours, hm?”

She hums, letting go off him —he lets go of her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders and waist in waves. Some curls long undone, instead hanging in messy wavy strands. Giorno extends a hand out, supporting her as she stands up and, without letting go of her hand, he stands from the bed too, following her lead as she circles him, “Wait,” he whispers, seeing her stop with her back against him. Stepping closer he presses himself against her, leaning down to speak directly into her ear. “I’d like to tear this dress off you, but I would love to fuck you on it later.” He chuckles as she shivers against him. His hands reach forward, lifting the dress above her head and, throwing it somewhere around the room, his eyes scan her immediately, freezing on a certain piece of cloth still reminding.

Lace panties. Intricate designs that wrap around her hips, teasing and elegant all in one.

Giorno chuckles, running his palm over her hip, pressing himself into her backside, “Anything else you’d like to surprise me with?”

“Perhaps,” she mutters back, twisting her head still in her position and, kissing his cheek, she kneels in the bed, not before whispering something else before she gets into position. “Look closely, baby.”

She bends over, elbows propped into the bed as she arches her back, pushing her hips back in the act.

His breath hitches as he notices, feeling himself get harder —lust growing even more, he almost chokes on his own saliva as he comes to realization that these lace panties are nothing more but crotchless lace panties.

Another chuckle rumbles through his chest, deeper. “I see why you decided not to turn around, wish my birthday was every day.”

She laughs, looking back at him over her shoulder, “It doesn’t have to be, or am I doing something wrong?”

“Don’t misinterpret me, bunny.” He grips at her hips as he stands between her legs, at the edge of the bed. “I said it earlier,” he grips at himself, rubbing her clit with the tip. “You drive me crazy every day, always. Forever. Whatever,” he growls as his mind starts to wander, lost in the feeling of her folds as he rubs his cock over them, teasingly. “You get me.”

She hums, forgetting the conversation as she sighs, letting her face touch the bed as whimpers fall from her lips, murmurs of his name in between as she wiggles her hips, desperate for him.

And he chuckles once again, running a finger up and down her entrance, gathering the fluid in it and smearing it over himself. “Look at this, all this just from sucking me off?” He pushes in, confident that she won’t be hurt after checking in. “So?” he murmurs, awaiting an answer as he keeps pushing in, letting her adjust to his size.

“Mhm,” she murmurs in affirmation, gripping at the sheets as she pants. “Just for you…” she bites her lip as he finally bottoms out, palms spread over her hips. “You’re so big — ‘m full.” Lena’s words become slurred by the end, cursing under her breath.

“I know, baby.” His fingers trace circles over her hip as he pulls out, slamming back again slowly. Enough to help her adjust and get comfortable. “But look how well you take me.” He thrusts again, fingers tightening around her hips in a bruising grip as he thrusts again, short and hard.

The moan that falls from her lips makes him smirk, thrusting once more as he stops, going as deep as he can go and reaching his hands out to her sides he pulls her against him.

Calloused fingers trace up as he sucks a hickey into her shoulder, feeling her tremble and grip at him at the same time. He’s dying to touch more. “Lena,” his hands cup her breasts carefully, almost like he’s scared to hurt her. “Does this feel good?” it had been a while since he had gotten to touch her chest, aware of her sensitiveness left from breastfeeding the boys —but lately, he had noticed her starting to get comfortable enough to press her chest onto him. It was like a silent signal.

And now, with her pleased hum and the way her head rolls into him, nothing else could confirm his suspicions. Rolling her nipples between his fingers, he starts moving again. Sharp, hard thrusts that have her reaching out to grip at his hair and moaning his name.

The wet sounds of skin meeting skin mixed with her moans make him groan and moan, cursing every time she grips particularly hard. Wrapping an arm around her middle, he supports her like that, flush against him as he keeps going, his other hand busy playing with her chest as his lips bruise the skin of her neck and shoulder, moans distorting his words every time he talks; pure filth leaves his lips as he does, voice deeper and filled with cockiness.

“Do you remember, doll?” he stops to accentuate his words with a hard thrust, waiting a moment to pull out and slam back in. She shudders, fingernails sinking into the arm around her waist as a moan leaves her lips and she leans her head back. Eyes blown out and cheeks red, she seems to plead for him as her lips part but nothing comes out, only pants. Giorno’s eyes quickly find the contrast between the hickeys and bite-marks all over her shoulders and neck, finding the image too much to bear. Closing his eyes and giving another thrust, he slows down so he can focus and speak, eyes boring into hers. “The last time I had you like this, well,” he smirks, snapping his hips into hers slowly now as he leans right before her ear, “You know what happened. Who happened.”

She mumbles something incoherent, nodding her head a couple of times as a moan tears through and her hips meet his for the first time —and Giorno’s heart skips a beat when he feels her gush around him, walls closing around him like a vice. His laugh rumbles through his chest, warm and teasing as he goes back to his bruising pace, hand leaving her chest and traveling down until the pads of two fingers find her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves slowly; and pressing down when her hips starts to imitate the movement. All while she keeps gushing around him, panting and moaning his name.

“Gonna cum, baby.” She murmurs, broken and needy. He’s sure her nails are leaving marks, but he doesn’t care.

His hips stop immediately. The sudden loss of friction makes her whine, looking back at him through her shoulder as he pulls his hands away, lips curled in a devilish smirk as he coos at her to wait. Leaning down to steal a kiss, his tongue darts out as he licks her lips, humming when he tastes himself on her lips. She hums back, trying to reach for him.

But he’s faster, arms reaching out and laying her down into the bed —then, as he kneels in the bed, he pulls her up so she ends up laying completely in the middle of the bed. Parting her thighs with his hands, he kneels between her legs, massaging the trembling thighs as he looks down at her through half lidded eyes full of lust.

His eyes don’t fail to take her in every detail: cheeks red, lips parted and brow furrowed while she tries to process what just happened. Sensitive upon the loss of her orgasm. Hands at each side of her head, palms exposed and chest heaving with her elaborated breathing. Her hair, with some curls doubling the size as they become loose strands of wavy hair, frame her head as the sudden movement made them end up spread through the pillow under her head.

“Sorry angel,” he murmurs. “But I wanna cum inside of you —wanna fill you up nice and deep.” He smiles softly despite the intensity of his confession, leaning down to kiss her forehead and humming once her hands place themselves on his back, warm palms spread open. His hands reach forward, tearing open the panties —she doesn’t even care, lost on him. Not even when he throws both pieces of cloth that used to be her panties away, almost like that didn’t happen.

Her chuckle against his lips rises goosebumps on his skin as he pulls away just enough for her to talk. “Eager to make more so soon, love?”

He smirks, stealing one more kiss before he straightens his back. “You know we can’t because of your IUD,” he reaches down at his cock, guiding the tip in and pressing it in, watching with a bigger smirk as her mouth hangs open and her eyes close. “But as soon as we decide it’s time to give the boys a brother or sister,” he leans in, kissing her nose and leaning back while he takes both of her thighs, pulling her legs up his shoulders. Twisting his head to kiss her calves, he shoots her a wink as he ends up his small speech. “You’ll remember my words.” Reaching a hand out, he rubs her clit while pushing in, keeping track of her gestures so he doesn’t hurt her —when there’s no sign of discomfort and he’s bottomed out, Giorno’s eyes shot up to hers, holding her gaze for a moment. Softening, he leans in with her calves still on his shoulders. Only when she puts her hand on his chest in a signal that it’s too much pressure and stimulation he stops, mumbling. “I love you,” before he starts moving slowly. He can feel himself reaching deeper, feel her breathing against his face every time she moans and whispers.

“I love you too,” she whimpers out, “Happy birthday, baby.” She trails off, eyes closing as he hits that spot. Her nails sink into his chest, leaving red marks as she trails them down, unaware of her actions as she keeps moaning, mumbling how good it feels, asking him to keep going —and, low but audible for him, asking for his cum.

He groans, eyes closing tightly as his thrusts become erratic, desperate and, as he gets closer, sloppier and messier with each passing second.

Just when her palms leave his chest and circle his back, nails back at the skin of his back he opens his eyes, watching her melt as she comes around him, a high-pitched moan escaping and, right after, raging breaths stop her from breathing normally as her eyes lazily open to look at him. The sting from her nails leaving more red angry marks bring him to the edge as he licks his lip, biting on it before his mouth hangs open. Hot spurts shoot inside of her, tearing a few whimpers from her as Giorno shudders, burying his forehead into her chest as he goes for the last thrusts.

Only when he’s almost through his orgasm he buries himself as deep as he can go, putting his hands at each side of her head, taking a deep breath so he kneels in the bed, putting her legs down, at each side of his hips.

Lena’s hands reach out for him, cupping the back of his head and, with a small tug, Giorno quickly moves so she can get access to his face and neck, not without cursing under his breath as he watches her move under him —even when she whimpers with the sudden stimulation, she still leans in, sucking a hickey into his jaw, letting go as soon as she’s sure her mark is there: her head falls into the pillow and she keeps trying to come down.

“You okay, Lena?” he asks through pants, looking down at the place they’re still connected, noticing the way some of the mixed fluids trail down into the sheets even when he’s still inside. Feeling the marks sting deliciously.

“Hmh,” she hums, finger tracing the red marks on his arm. “You?”

He laughs, genuinely. “Of course —and I’m going to feel even better after this.”

She hums inquisitively.

Pulling out, he watches her mouth hang open for a moment, oversensitive from her orgasm and, of course, feeling it dripping out.

And he stays there, kneeling between her legs, watching his cum drip out slowly, staining the sheets as she whines. Cheeks flushed in a mix of pleasure and embarrassment.

“It’s okay, baby.” He whispers, noticing the last, “That’s…” he cleans his throat when he drifts out, mesmerized with the image. “—So fucking hot.”

She laughs, hands covering her face. “What a way to break in an apartment.”

Giorno laughs too, standing from the bed to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom. From there, he decides against it —asking instead, “Wanna take a shower, tesoro? Doubt you want to sleep like that after… That.”

Turning on her side, she frowns when the pain from his grip around her hips shoots through the zone and down her legs. “Yeah,” she shouts back, laughing quietly afterwards. “You just fucked my brains out —and I’m gonna walk like Bambi.”

Giorno’s snort is not missed as he starts to get the shower ready. Taking both their shampoos close and a soft, enjoyable body wash close, he puts two sets of towels within his reach. Walking back into the room, he allows Gold Experience out.

“Ready?” he asks, looking for one of his shirts for her to wear. “Goldie will take care of the sheets and the clothes.”

With the stand nuzzling her cheek as he hugs her from behind, Lena hums, mumbling her answer. “Uh-uh. But you’ll have to carry me, my legs are like jelly.”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he stands with a white t-shirt and her panties. “As expected, sweetheart.” He put the clothes in the bathroom, coming back to retrieve a pair of black boxers for him. Repeating the action, he struts back in the room with a small smile as he gets to feel the faint touch of her hands around his waist. The image before him confirms his suspicions; laying her head on Gold Experience’s chest, she nuzzles against him, sighing contently.

“Everything’s ready, Lena.” He comes to stop before the bed, sitting down at the edge. Reaching out, he puts his palm all over her thigh, noticing her frown upon the pain in the zone. “Sorry, angel. I’ll make up.”

“It’s okay,” she sits up, struggling for a moment. Even then, her lips curl up in the sweetest of smiles. “I loved it.” She winks last, making him blush as he shakes his head, standing back again.

“Doesn’t mean I’ll let you go around all sore, though.” Passing an arm under her legs and the other behind her back, he lifts her up bridal style, walking into the bathroom.

“Alright,” she laughs quietly, kissing his chest, right where the owl tattoo starts. “But please know I loved it when you kept cursing.”

“Oh?” finally inside the bathroom, Giorno stands and kicks the door close with Lena still on his arms, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk. “Is that so? Horny baby.”

She laughs, wholeheartedly —red lights her cheeks up as he puts her down, circling her waist with an arm. His smile doesn’t fade as he helps her get under the shower, holding her up while her hands circle his waist.

“Hot or cold water?” he asks in a whisper, mumbled into her hair.

“Cold?”

The water starts running down. At first, she shivers under its touch, moving closer to him as he keeps holding her up. As they stand underneath the cold water, Giorno’s lips land on every hickey and bite mark, hands roaming through the spots he bruised to try and soothe the bruises. All his touch and the water leave on their path are goosebumps as Lena hums, leaning further onto him.

Lifting her head from his chest, Lena reaches out to turn off the water, grabbing Giorno’s shampoo from the side. Pouring some of it into the palm of her hand, she shoots him a brief look before he’s leaning into her —arms around her waist as he keeps holding her up, and face pressed into her shoulder so she can reach his hair. Massaging his scalp, the mint scent soon fills her senses and she smiles without even knowing. Humming a low tune, she keeps spreading the bubbles through his mane, making sure it doesn’t get into his eyes.

Water runs down Giorno’s hair and back —with his eyes closed and lips pressed in a tight line as she holds his breath in, Lena works quickly, getting some of his soap into her hands and washing his face in light touches. Washing it all off, she reaches for the towel to dry his eyes first. Green eyes open slowly, finding her grinning down at him, soft and in love.

“Your turn.” He murmurs, reaching out to her shampoo. The honey scent from it makes him sigh dreamily as he holds her closer, repeating the routine with her. He takes his time, hands trailing as he washes her off carefully, pressing kisses to every little bruise he finds. Any spot that could be sore in a few hours, he makes sure to kiss it and soothe it. He makes her lift a leg, holding it in his hand so he can clean her intimate areas, taking special care with how he does it so no soap gets inside —her hold around his neck is tight as her other leg shakes a bit. As soon as he’s done, she intends to do the same for him, but Giorno’s whispers makes her stop, reasoning with her that it’s too much for her. That, instead, she should just hold onto him while he makes sure to get the rest done. Even when she protests at first, he soon finds a way to convince her.

Forged in Fire in the background, the couple lays on the couch, watching the show with deep interest. As the introduction to the Scottish claymore starts, Giorno growls lowly, mumbling under his breath.

Lena frowns, ignoring David Baker’s brief appearance much to her dismay —Giorno would find amusing her admiration for him; he’s talented and his outfits are always on point, she’d say before rambling about the times he had forged in camera, — turning around to face her husband, she puts a gentle arm around his waist, settling her palm on his back. Giorno’s hand finds its place on her butt, spread open as he holds her shirt in place; even then, his finger still makes contact with the soft fabric of her underwear, and he takes note of it.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asks in a whisper, eyes looking up at his through curly eyelashes.

“I’m hungry.” He mumbles with a frown of his own, uncomfortable with his sudden need.

Her smile lights up the room. “Not a problem. Should we get food delivered?”

He thinks about it for a second, “Fine, but I’ll open the door.”

Lena raises an eyebrow, looking at him incredulously. “You’re literally the one wearing boxers.” She looks down at him, blushing at the sight of his v line, but quickly looking up to find him smirking.

“Yeah,” he hooks a finger on the hem of her shirt —which is, in fact, his given the way the fabric pools around her thighs and the sleeves reach her forearms. She’s literally swimming in that shirt. “But you’re wearing nothing but panties and my shirt: and the latter, baby, is white. As soon as you step out,” he almost rolls his eyes at the thought, playful but holding a dose of reality. “Let’s say I don’t want to break someone’s nose.”

Lena laughs, flustered. She still nods, counterattacking. “Fine, I’ll take it. But,” one of Wire’s chains reaches out, retrieving her phone from the coffee table. “I’ll do it because one; I can’t walk and two; I don’t wanna step out like this.”

“Why?” he asks, genuinely concerned, would it be possible for her to feel insecure? Or…?

“It’s my day off and I don’t feel like explaining to the police or the locals why my husband punched a delivery man and I shouldn’t have to attend to a broken nose like this.”

He nods, containing his laughter —that joke got to him and he can’t deny it. “Alright, alright.” He hums, extending his hand out in silent question for her phone: when she places the device on his hand and he looks at the bakeries around the zone, a question emerges and even if he already knows the answer he still asks, already tapping the option to request said treat, “Any cravings, doll?”

“Carrot cake, of course! Wait,” she looks on, squinting with a funny crack on her nose. “I should ask that. It’s your birthday.”

He laughs, shaking his head. With a playful undertone, he says: “Okay, ask then.”

Batting her eyelashes like nothing happened, she shifts until her arms rest on his chest and she’s propping herself on the couch with her elbows, half laying on top of him. “Is there something you wish, Giobaby?”

Giorno’s breath hitches as he stares at her —she’s pretty. No, he thinks, perfect like this. Dressed on his shirt and so natural with no make-up; hair lightly out of place with beautiful wild curls framing her features. Kind brown eyes that bore into his soul with the sweetest of looks. And he knows that he’s so down and, at the same time, that doesn’t even worry him like it used to do when he met her, when his feelings started. Oh, no; right there, all he can do is reach out, cupping her face with a warm, large hand. Voice in a whisper, deep and soft as he murmurs, “Carrot cake.”

#GioLena #n sfw ish #why am i shy after posting this?? ajhsdjhd #i'll proofread this one later too adsd ;w;

[plantbruno]

I would pay you to write a fic from Abbacchio's point of view where he has to be like =_= Bruno's still hot as a tree

(ao3)

It was, Abbacchio thought with no small amount of despair, exceedingly inconvenient that Bruno’s backyard had become his safe place.

When Bruno had been a corpse, Abbacchio had often retreated to the overgrown, almost unsightly garden in the back. In the first few weeks of settling into the house, he’d kick at rose bushes and savagely shy away from weeds, but as time crawled on and Bruno stayed frozen in Giorno Giovanna’s basement, Abbacchio lost his edge.

Unlike some assholes, he was aware that this change could not entirely be contained to his behavior in the yard. He’d taken hits for Giorno entirely divorced from duty, eclipsed by a growing and terrifying drive to protect the kid. He’d made meals for Narancia and Trish that he knew they loved even if he fucking hated lasagna half the time. He’d learned how to sign.

Abbacchio stood rigidly in the backyard, rooted to the spot as he watched Bruno in his new body, unearthly head tilted up to the sunlight.

Uncanny, he thought dumbly, belatedly, mournfully. He clenched and unclenched his fists, knowing that he was staring like an idiot, cataloguing all the inhuman ways that Bruno carried himself, some characteristics like his preternatural stillness due to his time as a corpse, others due to the… fucking plants.

He must have shifted enough that Bruno had been able to identify his shadow because he tilted his head towards Abbacchio and said, “What?”

Frozen, Abbacchio stared blankly at a spot of fungi on what had once been Bruno’s shoulder. Giorno had referred to Bruno’s new body as an ecosystem, and it was more apparent now than ever as the disparate parts of him swayed against the gentle tug of the breeze. There were flowers on his shoulders, bending lazily against the direction of the wind, but that spot of fungi was too sturdy, too rooted to waver.

Uncanny, he thought, and that was all.

Abbacchio turned around and went back inside. Whatever. He’d find a new place to sulk.

 ***

Mista and Abbacchio were cramped into the tiniest crawl space Abbacchio had ever seen in his life, and he was starting to get irritated.

The stake-out wasn’t going well, and the close quarters were sweaty and gross. Abbacchio had never been a claustrophobic person, but when Mista wiggled a little bit to free his arm, Abbacchio felt like snapping.

“Let’s play eye-spy,” Mista said.

“No.”

Mista elbowed him, hard, and Abbacchio had no way of knowing whether or not it was intentional. “What are you staring at?” he complained.

With a jolt, Abbacchio realized that he’d been cataloguing the elegant way that lavender flowers were shifting with the breeze. His eyes traced the way that they’d grown through the cracked sidewalk, and he flushed, casting a glare to the side so that he wouldn’t keep looking, but his gaze caught a patch of mushrooms huddled close to the crawl space.

Mista had wriggled closer to try and follow his gaze, and he blinked at him in confusion as Abbacchio banged his forehead against the closest available surface.

“You like the flowers, bud?” Mista asked tentatively, bafflement beginning to tangle with a faux-sweet, alarming sort of suspicion.

“No.”

Mista shifted to better look at Abbacchio. “Thinking about Bucciarati, bud?”

“No.”

“Oh my god.”

“I said no.”

“Dude—”

Abbacchio didn’t fucking care how important this mission was. He scrambled to shove himself outside, and he tried to turn his sprawling tumble into a roll with minimal success. He stood, trying to preserve his dignity, and scowled at Mista. He held up a finger. “Number fucking one—”

Number One materialized, looking at Abbacchio with huge eyes, and Abbacchio tried to ignore it. Bad choice of words.

“—I was bored and zoning out. Secondly, Bruno doesn’t have a fucking monopoly on flora.”

“Flora,” Mista echoed with a terrifying cocktail of delight and horror.

Abbacchio gritted his teeth. “Listen—”

“I’m all ears, bro.”

Abbacchio shut his mouth with a click. “This mission is over. I’ll get Moody Blues to figure this shit out tomorrow. We’re leaving.”

“Like,” Mista was saying as he stumbled to his feet from the crawl space, “I knew nothing could stop you from still being into Bruno—”

“Mista.”

“—but I didn’t expect this level of enthusiasm.”

“This is out of line and unprofessional.”

“You want to fuck a flower, dude!”

“I do not.”

“Trees doin’ it for you now? Am I going to catch you staring longingly after trees?”

Abbacchio said, “This conversation is over,” in his cruelest voice, a voice that somehow still did not hold a candle to Bruno’s baseline, and Mista had the nerve to laugh.

***

“How was your day?” Bruno murmured listlessly from his place at the kitchen table, hands offered.

Abbacchio took Bruno’s hands and abruptly went still, cataloguing the roughness of the bark. It was a mesmerizing, gnarled shape, contorted to imitate his bone structure, and Abbacchio could see dots of flower buds starting to peek through his knuckles, along his palm and wrists. A thorned, leafy vine snaked down his arm like tefillin, and through there was nothing religious about the act of creation that had made Bruno anew, Abbacchio couldn’t help the reflexive, stupid association, preying on imagery and the way that Abbacchio’s devotion and revolution had twisted together all around the shape of what made Bruno Bruno.

“…Leone?”

Abbacchio jerked to attention, biting his tongue hard as he signed a perfunctory version of his day’s events, and it was so fucking stupid. Bruno held himself like a dead thing, like an utterly and inescapably inhuman thing, and the flowers and fungus along his shoulders were vibrant and lovely and—

This sucked. Bruno was still devastatingly hot as a fucking plant monster or whatever.

I’m going to bed, he signed, and Bruno tracked the movement of his silhouette as he left without shifting expression or demeanor. It was the one constant that Abbacchio had reliably been able to track through all of Bruno’s states. This coldness.

He collapsed face-first into the mattress and let out a shrill groan of despair.

#ohofd #abbacchio: sorry for being a planty.. #mista pointing his gun: some crimes can never be forgiven

[jennoasis]

July Drabble Challenge Day 31 (In September): Again

Spoilers for Part 5 of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Vento Aureo and Eyes of Heaven)

“Goodnight Fugo. Are you sure you don’t want me to tuck you in? Hey! Flipping people off is rude, you dick.”

 Giorno rolled his eyes, biting back a smile at the exchange between Mista and Fugo.

 “Can you believe that guy? So rude.” Mista grumbled before he grinned, stretching his arms above his head. “After the day we had, as glad as I am that everyone is safe and sound again, I’m fucking exhausted. You going to bed too?”

 Giorno knew he should but he had too much on his mind and wanted some fresh air before having to deal with the insomnia that was sure to plague him that evening. “No, not yet. Have a good night though.” He murmured, turning to head towards one of the back gardens, surprised when he heard footsteps coming up beside him. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s so weird. I suddenly got a burst of energy. So I thought I’d join you on the walk you’re taking.”

 “As a bodyguard or a friend?” Giorno asked, wanting to be annoyed, but unable to because of Mista’s smile.

 “Why not both? And I know what you’re going to say. “I can take care of myself Mista.” Or, “No one has ever breached these grounds” etc. etc.” He mumbled, doing his best impersonation of Giorno’s voice.

 “If you know, then why?”

 “I told you. Energy. A walk sounds good before bed.”

 Giorno didn’t have an argument for that so he said nothing as the two of them moved further into the vibrant garden Giorno had spent months cultivating, often with Mista’s help, who surprisingly had a green thumb, well fourteen green thumbs if you included the times the Pistols helped.

 After a few moments of silence, Mista spoke, his tone a bit more serious. “It’s weird isn’t it? To have mourned our friends, and knowing they’re back now, having only lost three years of time. Although I wanted to laugh every time Abbacchio kept looking at you confused.”

 “He couldn’t get over the fact that I had grown.” Giorno murmured, as he stared up at the night sky bursting with stars.

 “Yeah, well, you were fifteen the last time he saw you and now you’re about to be nineteen and added what? A few pounds and some inches?”

 Giorno lifted an elegant brow, facing Mista again. “Have you been looking at me?”

 Mista cleared his throat, looking away, face flushing. “’Course not. But it’s obvious to anyone how you’ve grown over the years. That’s all.”

 “Ah.” The disappointment was evident even to Mista in Giorno’s voice. “You know what? I believe I am more exhausted than I thought. Good night Mista.”

 “Wait, hold on a second.” Mista reached out, hand landing on Giorno’s shoulder, surprised when Giorno jerked away, the pain on his face unlike anything Mista had ever seen.

 “No. I’m tired of waiting and I’m tired of games. Do you know what I saw today? I saw a love that transcended time. I witnessed two people who reached for each other even in death. And I envied them because of that love.” Giorno confessed before cursing himself, his face becoming a mask of impassiveness again. “Just forget it. Claim my words as a moment of temporary insanity and let’s leave it at that.” He finished, feeling like an idiot. “I would except I think it’s important we talk about your so-called insanity.” Mista murmured, afraid Giorno was going to bolt for it, so he kept talking. “When I met you, you were fifteen, even though you didn’t look it. And you were bold and reckless but smart too. You spun my world around and before I knew it, I was feeling things I had no business feeling. But again, you were fifteen and even though the age difference isn’t that much in hindsight, it still felt like I shouldn’t. Then you became Don and everything happened so fast. So I took a step back, became your third in command. Don’t argue with me. I already told you two squared is four and we’re not doing that. Anyway. Third in command, bodyguard, underboss, and I forgot about everything else. Okay, I let myself forget everything else. So yeah, there you go. If you want to claim temporary insanity, so do I then.” “What are you saying now?” Mista blinked, then laughed. “Seriously? I’m spilling my heart out here and you’re asking me what I’m saying?”

“No.” Giorno stepped closer, hesitating before placing a hand on Mista’s chest. “Everything you mentioned was in the past. I’m asking you how you feel right now.” “Oh. Oh duh.” Mista smiled now, lifting Giorno’s hand to kiss the back of it. “Alright, prepare yourself. Because I’m about to drop some words. You listening? Yeah, you are.” Mista cleared his throat dramatically, before speaking again, staring into Giorno’s eyes. “You are fucking fearless, powerful, caring, gorgeous; seriously, I often wonder if you’re a fallen angel but refuse to confess that to anyone.” “Mista—“ “Ah uh. Not done yet. You don’t take shit from anyone. You rule over Passione with an iron fist yet you don’t get self-centered. You’ve completely changed how the mob runs in Italy in the best way possible. Do you know how many people whisper your name in the streets? How many you’ve helped?” “No.” Giorno replied sincerely, never curious enough to find out, afraid of what he would hear. “A shit ton of people. You earned respect Giorno, and it’s well deserved. But more than anything else.” Now Mista pulled Giorno closer, their chests pressing together. “I can tell you that I lied. No one can really forget their feelings, not when they matter. And I’ve seen who you’ve become through out these years Giorno GioGio Giovanna and I can say with absolute certainty, that I love the hell out of you.”

 Giorno looked into Mista’s eyes, before he smiled, unable to resist. “You watch too many rom-coms.” “Ouch!” Mista chuckled. “This is what you say to a man confessing his love to you? You wound me.” “I didn’t want to have feelings you know.” Giorno began, lifting a hand to loop around the back of Mista’s neck. “I thought I wasn’t allowed them. But they developed and a part of me wanted to give in yet another part fought due to fear. I’m not afraid anymore though. Will you tell me again?” Mista leaned in closer, their faces only a couple of inches apart now. “I love you.” Giorno’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “I love you too, Guido Mista.” He reciprocated, before giving in to what he’d wanted for years now, leaning in to kiss Mista. It’s done! *Cackles like crazy* It took me 3 months to finish but I’ve done it! I needed to write some happy after the kind of day I’ve had so here we go! The drabble challenge I began in July (Which you can find the entire list of drabbles over here!) is now concluded with today’s word (Day 31): Again. Once again, this is more of a fic than a drabble since it’s 1k plus words but I couldn’t help myself. It’s technically a sequel of the Day 30 Drabble: Love (Which is way longer than a drabble lol), but with a different ship because yes, I love this ship as well. The reason I mentioned part 5 spoilers is because, well, it technically spoils the ending lol. I’ll say this again too. If you haven’t played the Eyes of Heaven game, I highly recommend. If you’re curious to read the other drabbles I did for this this ship, they’re Day 9: Spicy and Day 22: Book. I’ve also posted this to my AO3 account, which hosts my longer than drabble fics. @caity-catt did this challenge back in June and @sterlynwrites finished the challenge in July so check out their pages if you want to read more drabbles. Thanks for coming along with me on this journey! I’ll hopefully be working on another challenge soon (And working on my current WIP BruAbba/Past BruPro fic on AO3). <3

#jjba #jjba drabble #giomis #misgio #giorno giovanna #guido mista #giorno x mista #aged-up characters #July Drabble Challenge #July Drabble Challenge 2020 #Drabble Challenge #Drabble Challenge 2020 #Word of the day is Again #Again #Day 31 #my writing #my fic #Yes I'm obsessed with JoJo ships #I regret nothing #Giomis ship is awesome sauce #vento aureo #golden wind #love confessions #Mutual pining #Queen of sap over here #fluffy fluff #Cheesy cheese #AO3 link #AO3 Author #Not really a drabble

[suhmokey]

A message from Abbacchio

[minor Vento Aureo spoilers]

“GIORNO GIOVANNA?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING GIORNO GIOVANNA GOD DAMN FOOL DREAM CHASING DUST EATING RAT BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT DON OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING GIORNO GIOVANNA.

NARANCIA STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT GIORNO I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP IDEAS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST GO BACK TO SCHOOL. IS HE DEAD? IS HE A BASTARD? HE HAS SUCH A VISCERAL EFFECT ON ME JUST JOINED PASSIONE NEVER SEEN THIS DUDES FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST HAIR GET AWAY FROM ME

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said “Giorno Giovanna’s waiting inside”, i would piss on god’s feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

if i have to deal with Giorno speaking one word in person on a mission not only will i lose my shit i will use Moody Blues out of spite and rewind my entire life again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive.

i dont even know why i hate him so much. he has a dream but i am just mad because i am angy

he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some blond shithead whos a fan of the D.A.R.E Challenge and wanted the irl version ill go ham

BETTER have killed a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him

paypal.com/IFuckingHateGiornoGiovanna.

The mission isn’t even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be him and I lost it.

where the fuck is Giorno if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt

Attention-stealing child idiot

ill punch Giorno Giovanna and his sad frail baby twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final ladybug brooch he kept on him at all times that turns into a book simply titled Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddish

im not breathing; im hyperventilating at this point.

i hope theres a date given for when Giorno Giovanna died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone

everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the boy who had so many fucked up if true dreams.”

#source is I Fucking Hate Jürgen Leitner #vento auero spoilers #vento aureo #jojo abbacchio #leone abbacchio #jojos bizarre adventure #golden wind #giorno giovanna #jojo no kimyō na bōken

[tribunale]

@cremisino

Diavolo raised a brow. He was just standing there. Why was he just standing there? He had expected to be dead by now. He had expected this in fact, before he had stepped towards him. Yet here he was, face to face with himself, and very much alive. In fact, it appeared the other him was resigned, waiting for something..

For death? Diavolo wanted to spit on the ground. That was where this mirage clearly faltered, as if Diavolo would ever just.. Give up. As if he’d let that little spoiled brat win. No, despite everything, he would not lose his fucking dignity. He pauses again.

Then he laughs. Loudly, turning aside. This was ridiculous. He was not about to let that stinking child mock him in such a fashion. “Is this what you expect of me? To pathetically just stand there and reap what you view I have sewn? You ignorant piece of shit. What do you gain from this, I wonder?” 

He grits his teeth in anger. “You think to steal my kingdom from me, my life, and my dignity? You may take my palace. You may kill me a million times over. But I will never bow.. I will never become..” He is lost for words, and in a very mean mood. 

“This!” He points and wags a finger. “You must think me desperate in self-loathing. But even now, Giorno Giovanna, I am better than you. Despite everything, that fact remains.” 

Who is he telling this to? He’s not entirely sure. He doesn’t expect the mirror image in front of him to have a consciousness, and he’s been in the loop long enough to have a little doubt of whether Giorno truly knows this punishment. Still, he’s not been in enough to lose his pride. 

#diavolo sees himself immediately proceeds to bully himself #eremita #tbd

[darkpinkandbizarre]

Tantalised - Various x reader

Main: Don Giorno Giovanna x reader Ft: Jolyne, Risotto and Abbacchio, Aya, Yasuho, Rohan, Gyro, Anasui

Multiple AUs, set 4-ish years post Vento Aureo and Purple Haze Feedback - no minors here

Warnings: Orgasm denial, consent issues, many kinks, spoilers for Vento Aureo and Purple Haze Feedback, drug mention, ooc-ness, GER shenanigans 

Fem reader with both male and female characters

Notes: This was so much fun to write

Inspired by this post by @nevershoutnani Proofread and updated from ao3 - remind me to never post from mobile at 5 am with no sleep again  Under the cut for content and length

Giorno Giovanna looks down on you with icy eyes as you lie sprawled on the floor beneath his throne.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, scum?” the fiery girl who’d hunted you down hisses at you.

“Thank you, Sheila.”

The soft sound of the Don’s voice makes Sheila immediately stand to attention. She bows her head before marching out of the room, giving you a look of pure hatred before slamming the door behind her.

It’s been 4 years since the Don revealed himself, a bold move for the boss of a powerful mafia, and slowly over time he became known to the people of Naples becoming somewhat of a minor celebrity, rare glimpses of him sparking excited chatter amongst his admirers.

He claimed to have been in charge all along but whispers on the streets said that the former Don was brutally murdered by Giovanna along with the entirety of his own narcotics team. He’d promised to bring change, to rid the city of the drugs that had plagued the streets for a decade, for that he was lauded a hero: praised by the common folk and avoided by the authorities.

Nothing has changed. Not for you or your family anyway. You still got regular visits from the shady thugs of Passione extorting money from you in return for their ‘protection’ like they did with every other business in this area. If you refused or couldn't pay let’s just say 'accidents' would happen. The small bnb a few blocks down the road lost all of their livelihood in one night in this way. Sometimes they weren't even subtle about it like what would have happened if you hadn't intervened when your family couldn't pay… The fires of rage begin to stir within you. This was the brutal truth of the supposedly great and noble Passione.

The only thing you needed protecting from was them.

“Mista. Fugo.”

The two strangely dressed men at Giovanna’s side also get up to leave not so much as giving you a glance, you clearly aren’t worth their attention. The door closes with a click echoing in the deafening silence of the room where you face Giorno Giovanna alone.

He glows in bright light as he calls forth his spirit, stand you’d heard them referred to as, golden and majestic like the Don himself and crowned with an intricately carved arrow. It approaches without hesitation taking long strides towards you.

“Fuck you.” You spit at it's feet, picking yourself off the floor and using your anger to find the resolve to take this fucker on, summoning your own stand. You may as well go out with a fight, last time you fought you wiped the floor with your opponent so maybe you had a chance. You refuse to beg for mercy, not from this son of a bitch, though you doubt he’d grant it to you anyway - the man was known to be ruthless.

The Don of Passione remains silent, his expression is eerily calm.

You make the first move your stand lurching forward at high speed to land the hit you needed to activate your ability.

Huh?

Nothing happens. You stand exactly where you were before you’d decided to attack, like you never even threw the punch in the first place. In your confused state Gold Experience Requiem side steps your stand, completely ignoring it’s existence, instead aiming straight for you.

The Don watches as Gold Experience Requiem’s hands grab your body, holding it in place, you try to escape it's grasp but again it's like you've made no effort to begin with. It's hand comes to cup your core through your clothes, the sensation of the stand's hand against you is strange and you struggle trying to move away.

You blink.

You’re no longer in the ornate hall of Giorno Giovanna’s mansion.

Instead, you’re sat on a bed back flat against the wall facing a muscular girl with hair in black and green space buns on the bed opposite. Her legs are spread, one hand is down her pants; it’s obvious she’s touching herself.

“Wanna join in?” she asks, a coquettish smirk on her face.

His stand can negate attacks and teleport people? How can a stand possess multiple powers?

“Where am I? What’s going on?  Who are you? Do you work for Giorno Giovanna?”

You look around frantically, the Don and Gold Experience Requiem are nowhere in sight and you’re in what appears to be a college dormitory alone with this girl who has the audacity to masturbate right in front of you.

“Gimme a break… have you been smoking crack again?” She snorts, taking her hand away and jumping off her bed. She talks like she knows you but you swear you’ve never met this girl before in your life. You don’t even recognise her as an associate of Passione.

Your mind races with possibilities, maybe you had been drugged since stands shouldn’t have multiple abilities or perhaps he can induce hallucinations...

You're deep in thought as her hands rest on your shoulders, pushing you back down onto the bed before she climbs on top of you. You don’t protest as she captures your mouth in a kiss, if this is all a hallucination it feels very real: the heat from her skin, the plushness of her breasts pressed against yours, the sensation of her lips soft despite her rough appearance. You’ve probably got green all over you from her bright shade of lipstick.

You don’t really know what’s going on but you may as well enjoy yourself whilst you’re here, it’s not every day you get a hot girl throwing herself at you. You moan into the kiss as you grind against her, warmth flooding to your lower region as the friction of your two bodies rubs you in just the right way, the cheap bed squeaking in time with your rhythm. A hand moves under the skirt you found yourself in and proceeds to slide your underwear to the side, revealing your core to her.

"You’re so wet,” she purrs into your ear before sliding her fingers inside and kissing you again. You relax into her touch, the thought of Giorno Giovanna long gone from your mind.

Not wanting to be selfish, you move your hand from it's position on her hip and slip it down the front of her pants noting the hot wetness around your fingers as you move in tandem with her own strokes. You're rewarded by a lewd noise of appreciation and her fingers speed up, curling inside you.

You pull away from the kiss. Her fingers have found where you're most sensitive and you feel the sweet warning of your impending peak.

“I’m…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence nor your climax before the scenery shifts.

What?

It's pitch black. With your senses enhanced by the loss of your vision, you can hear the distant throb of what sounds like 80s gothic rock travelling through the walls and the smell of cigarette smoke sits heavy in the air.

"Hello?" You call out into the darkness. You try to summon your stand in panic but you feel nothing for the first time since you gained it, your heartbeat accelerates.

This isn't normal.

You feel a touch on the back of your head untying the blindfold that obscures your vision and you find yourself in front of the tallest man you’ve ever seen in your life. The sclera of his lined eyes are tattooed black, silver hair teased slightly and across his heavily muscled chest he wears a leather harness; he’s handsome yet completely terrifying.

Another slightly shorter male enters your vision also sporting silver hair, flowing down gracefully to his shoulders, piercing you with a gaze of purple and amber. The only thing he’s wearing is black lipstick and you try not to gawk at both of the attractive men as you think maybe this isn't so bad and instead concentrate on the situation. Where the hell did the girl you were having fun with go and how did you get here? Why can't you summon your stand?

“What the fuck is going on?”

Neither of them respond.

You feel a tug on your neck roughly pulling you forward onto your knees. There's a collar around your neck attached to a silver chain held by the one in lipstick. In fact, that's not the only thing you're wearing, you're covered with a lace body piece with black leather straps framing your breasts.

“I’ve got a good use for that pretty, little mouth of yours.”

He presents his cock to you, the arousal from your earlier make out session still remains so you feel no disgust as you wrap your lips around the head, tasting the bitterness of his precum.

The other man positions himself below you so you’re straddling his face, feeling his hot breath teasing your lower lips. You attempt to get some stimulation by thrusting your hips downwards as you whine around the head of the other man's cock.

The hand not holding you comes down with a loud smack, the impact sending a shock through your whole body.

“Don’t move."

There's an authority in his deep voice that suggests you shouldn’t disobey so you remain still. His tongue finds your hole and you notice with excitement that he's got a piercing in the middle of it’s tip. You feel the small metal piece stroke around you a few times before he pushes his tongue inside, making you shake with pleasure.

The collar around your neck tightens as your leash is pulled and you refocus your efforts on the cock in your mouth, moving along the veins on the underside before you take him a bit further back into your throat closing your thumb in your fist to prevent yourself from gagging.

It's hard to concentrate on giving head and the wetness of tongue and the strangeness of metal inside you. You don't need to worry about it for long though as you feel the tongue leave you only to be replaced by the blunt head of his cock. Oh. He has a piercing there too. His thick cock pushes into you and you yelp sending vibrations along the length of man inside your mouth making him groan in response.

They hold you up with ease as they fuck you roughly from both ends.

“Don’t cum yet, Leone."

The man, Leone, stops his thrusts into your mouth and pulls out leaving a wet strand linking your mouth to the head of his cock. He rubs his thumb over your bottom lip to remove it before gazing down at the other man who still rests inside you rocking back and forth at a lazy pace.

"What did you have in mind, Risotto?"

You hear them whisper to each other so you look back towards them, watching as they share a brief kiss before returning their attention to you. You're skillfully repositioned so Risotto is in front of you and Leone behind. You’re grateful that you were stretched out beforehand as Leone pushes inside you sliding up against Risotto inside you.

It’s incredible.

You’re so full, stretched to your absolute limits by their cocks. They give you time to adjust as you pant between their chests before they begin to move in sync. Quickly finding a rhythm that works for you all, they push and rub against each other surrounded by your insides.

A hand comes to rest at your throat as they continue to thrust, you aren't sure what's gotten into you but you give a brief nod. You feel pressure on the side of your neck over the collar, cutting off the blood supply momentarily, capturing you in a pleasant dizziness.

It doesn't take long before you hear a deep moan, hot cum filling your already stuffed pussy, another load quickly following. You’re ready to join them in their euphoric state, you don't need any extra stimulation, clenching around them, a bit of your saliva running down your chin and your eyes rolling as the tension in you reaches it’s height. You throw your head back onto Leone's shoulder.

Instead of hitting a firm body you feel the fabric of a towel and the sensation of your orgasm slipping away. You don't have time to think about the change as the manicured hands of an elegant older woman massage your breasts as you lie on your back surrounded by candlelight. You moan at her skilled motions, it should be easing the tension in your body but it has the exact opposite effect, the gentle touch feels highly erotic after being treated so roughly.

“Relax,” she breathes out in a raspy voice stopping her movements and you whine at the loss of her touch.

You watch as she pulls out a sleek rabbit toy and an expensive looking bottle from the drawer beside the table. Automatically, you spread your legs for her, you hope this time you’ll finally reach your climax, being edged for this long in such intense circumstances is getting too much for you.

“Beautiful…"

The woman pumps out a small amount of lube onto her fingertips, caressing every inch of your folds with the thick fluid before she slowly inserts the larger part of the toy inside you until the ears rest on your clit. The size of the toy is almost disappointing compared to what you'd previously had inside you but as the vibrations begin you can't help but cry out. It’s only on the lowest setting but the attention on both your sensitive spots has you bucking your hips wildly. One of her hands holds the toy in place as you rock against it and the other circles your nipples alternating between them, giving them the attention they crave. The toy is turned up a notch and a familiar heat coils in your belly.

“No no no this is all wrong!”

You feel hot lights shining upon your naked body and you look around to find yourself on some kind of set surrounded by people with all their attention in your direction, your release once again stolen from you. There’s a girl before you dressed in gorgeous floral lingerie with her head between your legs, her meek kittenish laps on your clit doing nothing but fanning your frustration to get off. A man with bright teal hair and a whiny voice emerges from behind a camera eyebrows furrowed and pouting.

“Yasuho, get over there and watch how a pro does it.”

The girl blushes as she pulls away, clearly embarrassed, and hurries off the stage. The man who had scolded her up takes her place.

“You better get this on film,” he shouts off to the side at a crew member.

You sigh as you feel his tongue begin swirling around your clit, it’s thicker than the girl’s and he’s clearly experienced, god you just want to cum already. Your legs come together quite violently around his head locking him in place as you moan loudly not caring that every second of this is being recorded.

He tuts at you, pulling your legs apart with a force he shouldn't have judging by his skinny body.

"Keep your legs open, you dumb whore, we're trying to make art over here."

He changes the angle keeping your legs spread to allow the camera to come closer to get a better shot. He presses into you, his movements over-exaggerated and over-enthusiastic. A flickering of tongue directly on your sensitive nub sends heat pooling throughout but like before the feeling quickly dissipates leaving you more frustrated than ever. When will you be free from this torture...

"Dr Zeppeli, is this really necessary…?"

Two blond men stand in front of you dressed in frock coats covered in dirt and blood.

"Hydrotherapy is a proven method for inducing hysterical paroxysm..."

The short-haired man you assume is an assistant gives the doctor an unamused look.

"Fine, my fingers are tired and we've got other patients to treat."

The assistant rolls his eyes behind the doctors back as he fiddles around with a hose pipe.

You're so done with all of this. Initially this whole experience felt like heaven now it feels like you've been plunged to the depths of hell but instead of fire and brimstone you're taunted by being kept on the edge, never being allowed to go over it.

You struggle to get away but your arms and legs are strapped tightly to the chair.

"Please. I can't take this anymore. Please stop."

Your pleas fall on deaf ears.

Dr Zeppeli flashes you a wide freakish smile revealing his gold teeth with his name carved into them, aiming the hose at you before turning the tap.

A cold and powerful jet of water hits your clit directly and the intensity is too much. You don’t even have time to cry out as you’re thrown almost immediately into the next loop.

You feel something already thrusting inside you, just at the right angle to hit your g-spot. The man above is staring intensely into your eyes, his long pink hair plastered to his face with sweat and his touches on your body possessive. He rolls his hips and you’re already so close as you lay sprawled out on a plush rug as the fireplace beside you crackles.

“I love you~” he coos in a sickly sweet voice but you don’t care what he’s saying, you aren’t listening at all. You dig your nails into his firm back and desperately try to rut against him, completely animalistic, your mind focused on one thing only, you feel the spark of your orgasm within your grasp once more and you’re ripped back from the edge yet again with tremendous force.

Your vision blurs through the beginnings of tears, you can’t see what’s happening this time. There feels like there’s many hands all over you, different sizes and textures, touching, groping, caressing every part of you.

You want it to stop but you also crave more. You’re so close, hungrily reaching out for a fruit that always manages to escape your grasp. You need it. You've never desired something so much in your life.

It feels like it never ends. Each loop makes you more desperate, your pussy burns for release like your lungs deprived of oxygen as you scream your voice hoarse. The need to come is the only thing that remains as you finally pass out.

***

You awaken with a start, the coldness of bare tiles against your face. Gold Experience Requiem looms above you, observing you with emotionless wide eyes.

You’re still in your clothes almost exactly as you’d left the hall except this time you’re on the floor. Your head pounds, your whole body sensitised in the worst way and your underwear is soaked, pussy swollen and aching.

“Join Passione.”

Giorno Giovanna’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“You murdered one of my subordinates and planned to depose me but having witnessed your ability, I believe your stand will serve my organisation well. I’m offering you a second chance. “

You can’t refuse.

There’s an unspoken threat that hangs in the air despite his gentle tone and not just to you, Giorno has only shown you a glimpse of his power. You’re already a wreck, lord only knows what he could to you and your loved ones without even relying on the strength of Passione behind him.

But you just shudder, you want to grind against the floor, touch yourself … anything to relieve the ache inside of you, any last scrap of rebellion has been drained entirely from you.

In this moment you would sell your soul to Giorno Giovanna in exchange for the mercy of release.

With trembling legs, you gather all the remaining strength in your body trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs as you push your self-control to the limit. You take a few steps towards his chair and fall into a kneel before him.

His hand extends towards you and you take his remarkably soft hand in your own to place a clumsy kiss on the ring adorning his little finger, the image of pure submission. Your throat is too sore to talk but your action speaks louder than any words you could have said.

“Good girl.”

The praise makes your heart soar and from this man who you’d once hated, you want nothing more than for him to touch you.

He adjusts his fur coat as he rises from his seat, towering above you as you remain on your knees. A smile graces his lips. It’s the first time you’ve seen him be so expressive and he’s beyond radiant, smouldering with charisma.

Gold Experience Requiem materialises behind you, running it's hands slowly down your sides. You're instinctively aware it's the reason why you were thrown into all those loops and it's still teasing you, you pathetically whine in frustration in it's grip.

You look up, meeting Giorno's gaze.

All it takes is the delicate brush of it’s fingers against your clit and you instantly come undone, all the tension that had built up over the loops releasing in a single, brilliant moment.

You collapse onto the floor shaking in pure ecstasy with only the energy to let out a high pitched whimper as you soak your underwear and inner thighs with your cum. You pant and twitch revelling in the shocks of pleasure firing throughout your body for what feels like forever.

When you finally feel the sensation ebb away you look up at Don Giorno Giovanna, feeling a wave of regret wash over you as you wonder what the hell you've gotten yourself into. His smile looks a little more sinister now.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Y/N”

#giorno giovanna x reader #jolyne cujoh x reader #risotto nero x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #aya tsuji x reader #yasuho hirose x reader #rohan kishibe x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #narciso anasui x reader #my writing #spicy content #writing tag for mobile #tw noncon #va spoilers

[veigued-blog]

TAGGED BY @datbluedog AND @trainsforbrains im pretty sure >__>

Rules: List 10 of your favorite characters from 10 different fandoms.

do i have 10 different fandoms, let’s find out

I’ll tag @fearboss​ @triggerfishie​ @severalbadpunslater​ if you want to do this!!

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure  ⇨ Giorno Giovanna

None of you could guess this one right. Giorno’s my fucking son and I love him and he means a lot to me. I have a history for abusive/neglectful families myself and everything about Giorno’s closed off-ness resonates me in a way that hurts a lot but is also extremely cathartic. He’s also broken as fuck and I adore him and anyone who doesn’t like him can come fight me in my inbox. 

(pls dont im super sensitive about this character and i will actually cry)

Hunter x Hunter  ⇨ Illumi Zoldyck

This is a hard toss up between Illumi and Kurapika because I adore them both but I could talk about both of them at length forever maybe I’ll talk about kBoi in another post sometime. Again, like above, I have a penchant for characters in fucked up families and Illumi is like the other side of this. A character that projects his own abuse onto someone he loves because he doesn’t know how else to do it. This is something I’ve struggled with too, not knowing how to engage or sympathize with people because I don’t know how to open up to people??? Also Illumi has the coolest design in HxH in my opinion I loved his fucked up octopus body. He is beautiful and I love him. 

Tales of Series  ⇨ Luke fon Fabre

TAKES A DEEP FUCKING BREATH Luke is the only reason I care about Tales of the Abyss. Well, he and Asch but they’re sort of well. :^) Y’know. Everything about Luke is just... he’s wholly relateable. Everything from his learning and growing character development to the issues he has to face to his inability to know who he truly is until he’s lost so so much I just. I really wish I’d had this character growing up instead of playing it as an adult but maybe he wouldn’t have resonated heh  with me so much. I feel like I would have related to Luke so much as a young teen and I realize why a lot of people like Abyss is probably for the same reasons even if they don’t remember how godawful the overarching.... everything is. Luke’s ability to learn to grow instead of just doing so makes me shiver and choke up sometimes. Learning who you are, not what you are. Being able to cope with being yourself. God. I fucking love Luke. Even his minor traits, like having a hard time focusing and learning, being impatient and having a hard time relating to people. All of him. I love a ton of Tales characters but it’s not hard  to choose. I love you Luke. ;__;

Disgaea  ⇨ Mao

Fuck you. Mao is hilarious and I love him and he’s the only character Vic has voiced well. The whole game is funny and wholesome and perfect and honestly is my favorite despite how much I do love D4. Which is a fuck ton. Mao is just... he’s my type of character, I love atypical protagonists. His design is great, he’s dumb looking and cute. His personality is what gets me though, I adore his relationship with Raspberyl. Just keep slap fighting you two, it’ll work out. 

Persona  ⇨ Minato

I know, Minato is “me”. But he’s the only thing that makes the story work and he’s wonderful. His personality is so much more fleshed out than Yuu’s whose diaglogue options to me are... Instead of being more clear options his are just like Bland, Happier Bland, Mean Bland. I love all of Minato’s dialogue options, paragon or renegade (though if I was writing him I’d go full renegade lmao.) The people that come together to know Minato are all wonderful and it’s hard to pick between them. I probably like Aegis and Elizabeth the second best because muh best girls but. I just can’t pick them over him. Minato made me fucking cry.  Ryouji sucks MJ. 

Metal Gear  ⇨ Liquid Snake 

That’s my boy. My beautiful boy. My big gorgeous boy who I am afraid of. Listen I love Eli so much he’s funny and over the top and stupid. I love daddy issues man. Like every single MGS character is over the top and stupid but Liquid is the over the top stupid big baby. Not even Ocelot is as dumb as him. He’s perfect, he got a dumb tattoo, his best friend is an edgy 1990s matrix character. He’s perfect. That’s all I have to say. 

Pokemon  ⇨ MortIy Listen. Going off of all his iterations, I think Morty is one of the most developed Pokemon characters. He’s never far off from canon in PokeSpe or the anime, and everything sort of compiles together into one whole that I really like. I love the lore behind Ecruteak and Johto as a whole and that’s where it starts I love him. He’s chill and laid back as fuck on top of being able to tell the future and see ghosts and royally fuck up your entire life if he talks about something a little too much. Of course there’s a lot of headcanon here too because he’s a Pokemon character and it’s hard to help that but I really love what he’s built up to be in as little lines as we get. 10/10 would smoke the good good with.  

Fire Emblem  ⇨ Takumi

I’m really typical you shouldn’t be surprised. For about the same reasons as Luke, I adore Takumi. He’s very relateable as a young sibling going through depression and anxiety in times of strife where everyone seems to be advancing but him. He’s tragically sad and I hate to say that I’ve been there. I feel like I know Takumi and that sounds stupid but it’s why I love him so much. The fact he tries to fucking kill himself is like. Shit. The fact that he succeeds in bad end???? Shit fuck. I sort of wanted to put Xander here but I relate to Takumi a lot more. I don’t know why I didn’t think of him first. I love him. 

Star Ocean  ⇨ Ronyx J. Kenny

My. Fucking. Husband. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 👌👌👌👌👌👌👌👌👌👌 I love this dork he is amazing and fun and awkward and I love him. Like, husbando levels of love. I would kiss this man without question. He’s wonderful. I love his personality and the way he handles things. He might say something wrong and be awkward about it but he fixes it and learns from it. He’s understanding and kind and just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I want to marry him please I will be Claude’s mom right now. On top of having the hottest voice ever in the PSP version holy shit. That’s my man right there. Right there. Ugh. My fucking husband. I would pick him over Gaius. That’s how much I love this man. 

Blue Exorcist  ⇨ Amaimon

Sometimes I just like a character for them being wholly unhelpful and funny and kind of useless and rude. Amaimon is this. I adore him. I love how he chews on things and gets into everything and annoys his big brother. He’s just good and wholesome fun. He’s my aesthetic down to a T. He’s subservient to his aniiue and acts like a puppy dog and needs a fucking bath. He’s stupid and irreverent and lovely. I want him to pick on Rin forever and then whine to Mephisto about it. Luv that demon. 

#this is long #i had a feel #mentions of child abuse and suicide