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jellyluchi · 2 years

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Don't fuck with me! (I've got the power of love and vengeance on my side!)

A/N: Halloween month slasher revenge thing! Includes cringey stand battles and a first person POV mostly because her pain is felt more personally like that.

Pairing: Prosciutto x Focaccia

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Major character death, stab wounds, blood

Summary: After some teenagers ruin her vacation with her husband suffering a terrible fate at their hands, Focaccia decides to avenge her beloved.

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Tag list: @hoestarave2 , @glorified-monster , @uminozerol , @syntheticseraton1n , @sweetsparklerain , @ricebaby01 , @r0z0s-moodyblurs , @strawbieqt , @mapesandoval , @mrskakyoin , @kalesalad420 , @meat-husband , @emproleon

You know what’s the worst trope in all of horror? When the group of white people that go into forest and rent a cabin to stay overnight, ignoring whatever stupid legend or warnings that should be enough to keep them at bay.

I know… knew one such group of little white teens. And no, they didn’t rent a cabin in any area of danger. In fact, the mountain resort where they decided to stay for that winter was declared quite safe. But fear not, I will be their horror movie antagonist, just as they deserve.

The summer before the Great Killing of Blue Mountain…

Patrizio and I decided to take a vacation to a warm weather country… It felt just like our honeymoon, so refreshing in the daytime and so cozy in the night. That night… I made a huge… no…the biggest mistake of my life.

At night, when the breeze was chilly while the land was warm, I begged Prosciutto for a walk. Just around the nearby foliage. The moon was out, it would be oh so romantic. Little did I realize some stupid fucking punks were playing with a gun not so far away.

We heard rustling, and the ever protective Prosciutto told me to stay here while he investigated. I waited… and waited… and waited… just when I thought I should check what’s happening I hear a loud gunshot. Not a handgun, maybe a shotgun… My blood ran cold. Patrizio did not bring a weapon. Neither of us did.

Running through the thicket I called out for him several times, the darkness too much for me to see anything clearly and clouds having covered the moon. “Patrizio! Patrizio! Patrizio!!”

At long last, I came across a clearing. A small meadow where the moonlight peaked and flowed like honey to the grass. And I saw red… following the trail I found it. His body.

“No… no no no no no no no…” Breathing heavy I approached him with just one glimmer of hope. I turned him around only to find the giant hole right above his chest. The tears were already flowing from my eyes as panic struck my body. I checked his pulse on his neck. Nothing. His wrist. Cold… I caressed his cheek and ran a hand through his matte blond hair asking him to wake up to open his eyes just one more time. But no response.

I’m not sure how long I lay there crying over his body as he grew colder under my touch, cradling him to my chest all alone in the darkness of the woods. It didn’t matter then who came to hunt me, shoot me, kill me. My one treasure was gone.

With my clothes covered in his blood I finally decided to call Pesci who would not believe me at first only to burst into tears himself. How can I tell him his Aniki is gone? How can I tell Patrizio’s Capo? His teammates? And not even an honorable death in battle…

Enraged, as soon as I got back home I demanded La Squadra help me locate my husband’s killer. Pesci tried to convince me to not pursue revenge but I was far too gone. For once, both Ghiaccio and Illuso took me seriously and helped me locate the culprits. With their intel I was able to formulate the perfect plan…

That winter…

His hometown’s sweetheart, Kevin, the local football team’s jock, his girlfriend Karen (who is obviously the cheerleader) and their best friend Ronnie decided to go to a mountain resort for skiing and snowboarding. But knowing these shitty tropes I knew they would do more than that. Immediately after they got to their cabins, I set my plan to motion.

I knew Kevin and Karen, those horny fucking teens, would try to have sex somewhere in the large mansion-like cabin they chose. It was pretty easy to orchestrate… Turn off the power and lure them to my traps.

As soon as I saw the two love birds enter the bathroom, the power was shut off, making the two of them confused. I made a noise near the bedroom and of course, Kevin wanting to show off, decided to go investigate on his own.

Once he was inside the bedroom I had Fire Woman lock the door…but wait! He noticed my stand! Immediately he called out his own. “Icicle Elegy!”

I jumped out of the closet with my butterfly knife before he turned around to face me. At that moment, his stand power was revealed to me as a large ice shield blocked my path. It bubbled him in as he was alarmed to find me, a small framed unknown person in a dark cloak. Looked like his stand was defense based, just like his position on the football team. But it was his unlucky day.

With one call to fire woman the giant dome of ice shield melted along with his sorry corpse right by the bedside table. But I didn’t want to grant him such a quick death. Retreating Fire Woman’s ability, I made sure he was conscious while stabbing him exactly 36 times in the chest. Big enough to compare to the hole in my heart. And the hole in Patrizio’s.

Once completed with his corpse, I made my way to the bathroom. I could hear Karen calling out. “Kevin…Kevin!” Does she know how it feels now to call for her lover and get no response? When I reached her in the bathroom, hidden from view by the walls, she was in nothing but a towel. How typical!

I thought of attacking right then and there, when I saw her look straight into me! Her eyes glowed and I realized this bitch has a fucking stand too!

“You Go, Girl sees you” she whispered. And I came out of hiding.

“You have weapons!” She suddenly screamed. Ah, so she could see through walls and other objects.

“Yes I do, Karen,” I told her, approaching with my butterfly knife when her stand, a humanoid robotic woman came to punch me. Dodging with Fire Woman, I ran to stab her, only for my body to freeze!

“YGG has touched your stand! Now you can’t move,” she giggled.

Had I been able to move, I’d have smirked. Foolish. Everyone knows not to touch Fire Woman. My heat slowly seeped into YGG through FW’s energy transfer, giving Karen a tingling sensation, then a burning one, before her arm caught fire entirely and YGG let go of FW.

As my body was released from paralysis, the inertia from my initial run allowed me to jump her. 36 more stabs and a perfect hole right between her scantily clad breasts.

Now the only one left was Ronnie. The one who went to the main resort building to check their reservations. The poor kid comes back to an empty, dark cabin with no one around. I hid in the living room as he entered with a flashlight. If those two bozos had stands, I guessed that so would he.

His stupid, nerdy looking face pissed me off even more as he discovered his best friends’ dead bodies with horror. You don’t know pain, I thought…

But he barely reacted and turned to face me… clapping as he did so.

“So you have figured it out…” he whispered.

“You recognize me?!” I asked, baffled with the turn of events.

He didn’t answer and only called his stand. “Final Confrontation!”

Suddenly, I was transported to the blasted night, relieving the same memories of running, searching, discovering. I heard his voice… Prosciutto calling out to me for help. “Focaccia! Focaccia! Focaccia!” The pain palpable in his once proud and booming voice. And I heard Ronnie too…

“My stand works with memories… the more pain you relive, the weaker you become… Focaccia!”

I sat helplessly in the same blood stained grass… or so I thought! Quickly summoning FW, I burned a part of my arm’s flesh, bringing me back to the cabin. It’s just an illusion!

“The only negation of emotional pain… is physical” I told him, it seemed he hadn’t fought with his stand too many times, as he looked shocked to see someone escape his stand’s memory trap.

Though weakened from the pain of reliving the same night, hearing Patrizio’s voice helped me gain the last bit of strength I had, grabbing Ronnie’s arms to melt the flesh and render them useless before doing the same to his legs. The last set of 36 stab wounds… and my husband was avenged.

#focaccia #jjba prosciutto #prosciutto #jjba x oc #prosciutto x focaccia #fics #angst #sid writes #selfship stuff #selfship au #selfship fic #oc x canon #focaccia stuff #focaccia fics

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icerisotto · 13 days

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⟡﹒ freddezza ' ꒱

⌦ genre: angst.

⌦ type: oneshot.

⌦ status: finished.

⌦ couple: ghiaccio﹢ prosciutto.

⌦ warnings: emotional dependence, unrequited love, unhealthy relationships, unfair power dynamics, forbidden love, one-night stands, lies, emotional manipulation, impossible love, broken promises, age gap.

☆ plot:

Ghiaccio should've known there's no such thing as fairytales. Or, Prosciutto is shown to be too far from a Prince Charming.

★ where to read: here.

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ghiaccio #prosciutto #ao3 writer #archive of our own #ao3 link #fanfiction #ao3 stuff #angst #light angst #prosghia #ghiapros #tw depressing stuff #cw suggestive

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humanpurposes · 4 months

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So thrilled you’re taking requests! I love winter themed fics this time of year. I’m requesting modern Aemond (if not allowed then Michael Gavey) + stuck in this cabin until the storm passes/come sit by the fireplace. As much smut as you’d like with maybe a teeny bit of angst?

Thank you for taking requests, I know they will all be lovely

A/n: Took the liberty of making this a Michael Gavey request 😈 Also this gif is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!! Shoutout @barbieaemond and all the other amazing gif makers on here. These guys are such an integral part of fandom and they deserve all our love, appreciation and credit ❤️✨

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+, slight angst, handjob, thigh riding (ish), Michael Gavey being awkard, but not quite a virgin

Main Masterlist

“Fucking skiing holiday. Should have fucking known this would be a fucking disaster.”

Michael’s foul mouth hardly phases you anymore. When you first met him you thought he’d be a shy type of guy, with his baby blue shirts, cargos and wire frame glasses he kept pushing up with his middle finger.

You’d quickly found that he wasn’t at all like you expected. He can be abrasive, often judgemental and vulgar, not so unlike your other friends but with Michael it seems to come from a place of unashamed honesty. You sort of admire him for it.

He’s pacing the small living room and kitchen of the cabin, furiously fiddling with his mobile. You’re kneeling by the wood burning stove, hovering a lighter by the kindling in the hopes that you can light a proper fire.

You’re surprised he agreed to go on this trip at all.

You have a few friends who do Maths, and at the start of second year they started inviting Michael to the pub on the weekends. You recognised him from your trips to the library, where he’d usually sit alone after his friend ditched him for Felix Catton.

They’d been all talking about a skiing trip between Christmas and New Year, to this little Italian village in the Alps. You didn’t— and still don’t— actually know how to ski, but spending a few nights in a cabin in the mountains, surrounded by snow sounded like a dream. Michael had been sceptical at first but you’d managed to convince him to come when you said you’d need someone to keep you company when the others were on the slopes.

The others had all gone out as soon as you arrived, leaving Michael to get settled in the cabin.

But it’s turned out to be somewhat of a nightmare. It’s too dark to actually see the snow storm but you can hear it, shrieking and howling against the walls and windows of the cabin. You have no service, no central heating, just the small assortment of snacks you had brought with you, a packet of paprika crisps, a bar of chocolate and a prosciutto sandwich you’d bought back at the main resort, back down the mountain, back in civilisation.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!”

“What now?” You ask, still focused on the fire.

“Mobile’s fucking dead. Shit! I have a charger in my bag but the bloody electricity isn’t fucking working so I can’t fucking charge it!”

You smile to yourself as the kindling catches alight and the flames start to lick at the larger logs.

You glance over your shoulder as Michael tosses his phone on the sofa, runs his hands through his hair and catches his lower lip with his teeth.

“I have plenty of charge on mine,” you say, “I’ll turn it off to save the battery and we can see if the service is working in the morning?”

Michael stares at you for a lingering moment. He can be so intense sometimes, almost unsettlingly so. “You want us to stay here all night?” he says softly.

“People know we’re here. I’m sure someone from the resort will come up when they can. Until then, we just have to wait out the storm.”

He tuts, but he knows you don’t have any other options.

You sit together with your backs against the sofa so that you can be as close to the fire as possible. The heat pleasantly burns your face and skin through your jeans and jumper. Even then, where your arm presses against Michael’s, you feel the warmth of his body beside you.

You grab the crisps and the sandwich out of your bag, offering them both to Michael. He only takes a handfuls of crisps and when you split the sandwich in two he takes the smaller half. You offer him more of the chocolate bar but he insists he’s not hungry. You frown at that. It might not be a Crunchie, but Michael never turns down chocolate.

“How was your Christmas?” You ask, popping a square of chocolate on your tongue.

“Fine,” he says, looking down at his hands, “had dinner with my dad and my nan, went to see my mum on Boxing Day.”

Guilt twinges in your chest. “Are your parents not together?”

“Oh no, they split up a long time ago,” he says, like it should have been obvious.

“I’m sorry.”

He turns to face you, staring intensely. “Why would you be sorry?”

“Because I didn’t realise.”

He smiles. You think it’s because he knows you’re nervous. “I’ve been splitting Christmases between my parents every year since I was twelve, I’m well used to it now.”

The topic doesn’t seem to phase him. He takes another crisp from the packet and looks into the fire as he crunches it between his teeth.

The low light reminds you of the nights you’ve sat opposite him in the King’s Arms in Oxford, all the times you’ve been tipsy off wine spritzers and found yourself trying not to make it obvious that you’re staring at him. He’s handsome, especially up close when you can see the details of his face, his lips, his surprisingly pretty eyelashes, the little cleft on the tip of his nose.

When his eyes turn towards you, you think your heart might leap out of your chest.

You take a quick breath, eyes darting around the room, at the fire, the pile of logs beside the stove, the sprinkling of ashes on the floor, but it seems inevitable that you’ll find your way back to him.

“Why did they split up?”

Michael raises his eyebrows but keeps his face solemn. “She left him for someone else.”

“Oh,” is all you can think of to say.

“It happens,” he says. “People always want to find something better. My dad was never the most exciting guy to be around.”

“But what about you?”

He huffs a laugh to himself. “I’m not exactly enticing company either.”

You can’t tell if you just want the conversation to end or if you should say something else.

“It’s not something I can fix,” Michael says. One of his hands rests on his thigh and he slowly flexes it so the tendons shift beneath his skin. “And it’s not something that needs to be fixed. People come in and out of your life, but you move on. That’s just the way it is.”

He’s almost hunched over himself, with his chin tilted down and his glasses sliding down towards the end of his nose.

You’d seen him in the pub once, back in first year, with that friend of his, Oliver Quick. Oliver had gone up to the bar and ended up sitting with Felix Catton and his band of admirers. You’d watched Michael leave the pub and remember your heart shattering for him, for this boy you didn’t even know.

Now, stuck in this cabin, snow swirling past the windows, the sound of the fire crackling a few feet in front of you, and Michael’s side pressed against yours, your heart shatters all over again.

You place your hand over his, and he instantly stops moving. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re great.”

Michael tries not to smile. “You don’t need to flatter me,” he says.

You curl your fingers over his hand and tighten your grip. His eyes meet yours and you feel yourself frowning, because he doesn’t understand, because he doesn’t see himself the same way you see him.

“I mean it. You’re funny, even when you don’t even mean to be, and honest, and straightforward…”

You glance down at his lips, slightly parted as he listens to you. It crosses your mind to lean in closer, but something stops you.

“I really love that we’re friends,” you say.

Michael looks down at your hands. His lips are pressed together.

He doesn’t want this, you think. He doesn’t want me.

So you pull away, with a little smile to keep it friendly.

He blinks a few times as he looks back at your face. “Thanks,” he says, softly.

He stands, and you don’t think you can bear to look at him as he moves towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.

You turn your attention to the fire, add another log for good measure and poke at the glowing embers in its heart.

You hear movement behind you, footsteps and fabric.

When you look back you see Michael has his arms full with pillows and blankets. He layers some of the blankets on the rug, and soon he has two makeshift beds, one on the sofa and one on the floor.

“What’s this?” You ask.

“We’ll freeze in the bedrooms without the heating, we might as well make use of the fire.”

It’s a good call, and now that you have somewhere to sleep you start to realise how tired you are.

You rummage through your suitcase and pull out a pair of pyjamas you got for Christmas. Michael changes in one of the bedrooms and comes back in one of his maths pun t-shirts and a pair of red and black bottoms.

You go to lie in the bed on the floor but Michael puts his hand on your shoulder and insists you sleep on the sofa.

Even with the heat of the fire on your face and the blanket pulled up to your chin, you can’t stop shaking. Your limbs are frozen and your skin is tight, but it feels deeper set than that. You feel the cold in your chest like a fever.

It feels like hours have passed and you still can’t sleep.

“I can hear your teeth chattering,” Michael’s voice grumbles below you. You peer down over the edge of the sofa. He’s turned away from you, towards the fire. You hadn’t even realised he was still awake.

“It’s fucking cold,” you say, wincing at the quiver in your voice.

Michael shifts to his other side so he’s facing you. You’ve never really seen him without his glasses, and he looks completely different, somehow softer, not as harsh.

“We’ll be warmer if we, if we share,” he says quietly.

His suggestion weighs heavy in the space between you, unless it’s just in your head. You can already imagine yourself pressed against him, feeling the warmth from his body and letting it sink into yours.

You don’t trust yourself not to try something stupid either.

You take the blanket with you. The floorboards are piercing against your bare soles so you step on the balls of your feet, quickly slotting yourself by Michael’s side, on the layers of blankets.

He’s facing you now, your noses must only be inches apart and you feel his breath running over your cheek.

You try to steady your own breathing, but it only makes your heart beat faster.

You see his neck move as he swallows. “Come here,” he mutters, and brings his arm around you, pressing his palm to your back to pull you closer into his chest.

You let your arm drape over his side and your legs intertwine with his. You need the heat, tucking your head in under his chin and resting the side of your face against him.

You move with the rise and fall of his chest, breathe in the scent of him with every breath, hear his heartbeat against your ear.

If you shifted your head slightly, your lips would meet the base of his throat.

Want tightens and lingers in your stomach, but curled up under Michael’s arm, you let its dull ache soothe you to sleep.

You wake slowly, opening your eyes to cold sunlight glaring through the windows. In your haste to get warm last night, you had apparently forgotten to draw the curtains. All you see on the other side is white, the snow now settled and piled high.

The fire has long since died and the air is colder than it was when you fell asleep, sharp as you take a breath through your nose.

It’s still warm where your cheek meets Michael’s chest, where his hand rests against your back and your bodies are pressed together.

It feels good to be so close to him. He’s still asleep, as far as you can tell. You hear the heavy sound of his breathing, air fluttering in his throat and passing through his pouted lips.

As you start to become more aware, more awake, a warm wanting stirs in your gut and between your legs.

It’s a stupid little crush, one you’ve not been able to distract yourself from these last few months.

You start to trace your fingertips over his chest, feeling where his chest is hard, then soft, and remember everything you said to him the night before, and what you perhaps should have said.

You nuzzle your face in closer to him, to the clean scent of his t-shirt and something else that is so uniquely him.

You try to stay like this for as long as possible, even if it’s torture not to want more.

“You’re moving a lot,” he mutters. You feel his voice rumbling in his chest and humming against your head like it’s a part of you.

Only when you freeze do you realise you’ve been rocking your hips, every hint of friction you get against the fabric of your pyjamas only fueling your hunger. But you’ve stopped now, resting your palm against his stomach.

“I’m cold,” you say.

“Hmm,” he says, resting his lips and his chin against your head, over your hair, “I don’t feel cold.”

The low rasp of his voice only makes you want him more.

The lingering haze of sleep must be clouding your judgement, your sense.

You tilt your head up, brushing your lips over his throat like you’d imagined. You feel him shudder, and feel his stomach tighten under your touch.

He utters your name in a breathless whisper as he paws at your back and pushes his hips into yours. His arousal is evident, hard and pressing to your centre through two layers of fabric.

And then he pauses, and his hand slips away.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says.

You drag your hand down a little further, to slip under his t-shirt and feel the ridges of his surprisingly toned stomach, just above the waistband of his bottoms. “Why are you sorry, Michael?”

“I don’t know, I just…” he huffs in frustration as his hand returns to your body, gripping at your waist through your shirt.

You start to snag your fingers on the waistband, and realise he’s forgone wearing any boxers to bed. “Do you want me to help you?” You whisper, unable to hold back a grin.

“Yes, fuck, please,”

A whine sounds in his throat as you shift his bottoms down just enough to free his cock, and close your hand around it. He’s bigger than you expected, long and thick, heavy, hard and soft-skinned as you stroke, up, down, up, down.

You enjoy the feel of him, run your thumb over his weeping tip as he starts to pant and try to hold back his moans, leaning against you and ghosting his lips against your temple.

You only feel yourself becoming more and more desperate. You hook your leg over his, grinding your core against his thigh. Sparse sparks of pleasure course through your body, not enough for a release, but it still feels good.

You tilt your head again, eagerly pressing your lips to his. He seems taken by surprise at first, but meets you with clumsy enthusiasm. He kisses you like it might save him from something. Once or twice he seems to lose track, dragging his lips to the corner of your mouth only to pull you back into him.

The movements become more and more frantic, your hand pumping Michael’s cock, his hips bucking under your touch.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your lips, “I’m close. Fuck, I’m so close.”

You rock particularly hard against his thigh, and he brings his hand to your rear, squeezing at your flesh and urging you on.

You tease your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling at the wanton noise he makes as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Are you gonna cum for me Michael?” You whisper as you up the pace.

“Please,” he grunts, “please…” and suddenly he’s moaning against your skin, holding you tightly as you feel his cock pulse in your hand as he spills over your fingers and knuckles.

You quickly move your head back so you can look at him, eyes fluttered shut, jaw slack and tongue just peeking out from behind his teeth.

“You’re so pretty,” you say quietly.

He blinks his eyes open, looking down at you with a dazed smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

“So fucking pretty,” you say, with another drag against his thigh.

He hums, low and cryptic in his chest. “Do you need some help there?”

Before you can answer he’s slipped his hand underneath your pyjamas. He cups your bare, wet cunt, lightly circling over your clit with the tip of his finger.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” he mutters, all but teasing your lips as he leans in to kiss you. “Got yourself all worked up, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “fuck, don’t tease me, please…”

“Now, sweetheart,” he coos as he presses more firmly against you, hastening his movements so your breath catches in your throat. “We might still have a few hours before anyone comes to get us, and I can think of more than a few ways to pass the time.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny

#Michael Gavey #saltburn fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey headcanons #michael gavey fanficiton #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #headcanons #smut #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchtell fanfiction #michael gavey oneshot #my fics

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k-martins · 4 months

Note

Hey I was just wondering if you had any itafushi fic recs!! :)

Fanfic recommendations from your ITFS fairy godmother!

Separated according to classification! R.N = Reader's note (me)

Indelible by Lyrebirdswrites +4k words || Oneshot || AU Tattoo artist! Megumi and Florist! Yuji || Marriage proposal || Fluffy, love and peace || R.N: For more fanfics that use the language of flowers

The Seasons Of Our Life by auspicious_goblin +1k words || Oneshot || AU - No curses || ITFS will end like this If Gege is not a loser || Fluffy and slice to life || R.N: YES!!! ITFS ELDERLY YES!!!!

You’re The Only Good Thing In My Life by renarizaki +2k words || Oneshot || Canonical divergence || Megumi helps Yuji dye his hair || fluffy, slice to life andhumor || R.N: The Manga would be funnier if Yuji actually dyed his hair pink.

Nobody Saves Me The Way You Do by GallifreyanFairytale +3k words || Oneshot || Canon compatible || Yuji gives Megumi a bath || Anguish mainly || R.N: I love how this writer describes Megs' scenes and feelings <3

No One Gets it Right on the First (Or Second) Try by j_jabbers +12k words || Oneshot || AU - No curses || ITFS and its failed encounters || 5 + 1, humor, fluffy and slice to life || R.N: I really like Yuji's POV where he is a failure in love.

Plant Kisses Like Seeds by Miah_Kat +4k words || Oneshot || Canon compatible || Yuji has survivor's guilt, good thing Megumi is around || Anguish and fluffy || R.N: This fanfic hits my weak points very hard. I'm passionate about body worship scenes.

And I've Been Tryin' Not To Feel It by hijinks_n_lowjinks +37k words || In Progress || Au - No curses/College || ITFS slowly (or not if you're Megumi) falling in love || Humor, slice to life, fluffy || R. N: God bless jinks for always making my day better with an update to this fanfic.

Can't Have It Both Ways by vivevoce +4k words || Oneshot || Canonical divergence || The ITFS meeting takes Todo through all the stages of grief || Humor, nonsense and fluffy? I think it's cute || R.N: This fanfic made me wish for fillers with the people of Tokyo and Kyoto coming together in a common goal - to destroy Todo's lack of sanity

It's a Goddamn Blaze In The Dark by prosciutto +13k words || Oneshot || AU - No curses/college || roommates, stranger>friends>lovers what more do you want? || humor, angst, fluffy || R.N: I really like how Megumi and Yuji are portrayed here. I feel like if we got a glimpse of their dynamic outside of the manga this would be it.

All The Bad Dreams That You Hide by lexouran +5k words || Oneshot (my tears)) || Au - Spiderman || Megumi receives a visit from her neighborhood friend || anguish, fluffy slight smut(?) || R.N: CAN YOU HEAR MY TEARS FROM YOUR HOUSE??? BECAUSE I CRY EVERY TIME I THINK THIS FANFIC HAS NO CONTINUATION!!

The Rabbit In the Moon by zillala +266k words || In Progress || Canonical divergence || Megumi finally confesses after Shibuya || Friends to lovers, angst, slice to life, humor, fluffy || R.N: The first itfs fanfic I read and I will never regret it. God bless this author and her huge chapters that were my vitamin on dark nights without the manga.

Futile Devices by jellyjully +25k words || Oneshot || Post-canon || Yuji is exiled from Japan for years until Megumi finds him || Slice to life, humor, anguish, fluffy || R.N: This fanfic gave me vibes of a studio ghigle film. I think it's the ambiance.

To Have And To Hold by terriana +15k words || In progress || Post-canon and Dynamics a/b/o || Yuji tries to woo Megumi, but his lover's shikigami wouldn't approve of the idea || Humor, anguish, fluffy, slice to life || R.N: This fic gets funnier when I think about the kung fu bunny from eps 17. No wonder Yuji was so broken LMAO (Please terriana, if you see this tell me what you have planned for Nue, I'm very curious )

Hope this helps! (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥

#I love recommending my favorite fanfics #if you want to ask #let me know what type you are (fluffy slice to life humor horror smut whatever)#support the writers!#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #itafushi #jjk spoilers #itadori yuji #fushiita #yuji itadori #jjk fanfic

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woso-dollarydoos · 1 year

Text

Snack. (Lucy Bronze x reader)

Not my pic.

Length: ~ 500 words

Summary: After Lucy Staniforth’s wedding, Y/N and Lucy Bronze head home.

Warnings: Angst. Second person.

Note: I wrote this in one night after work.

Lucy stood slightly off-centre, in front of you as the elevator doors shut. She wore her silk dark green pants and matching blazer as per the bride’s request. Your eyes slid down her back to her perfectly fitted high waisted pants; her ass and thighs looked amazing.

You reached forward and grabbed her hand lightly. You pulled her into you and your arms landed on her waist under her blazer. She smiled as your faces came together for a cheeky kiss.

“Hey,” you murmured, and bit your lower lip.

“Hey,” she pulled the both of you into a hug.

“Not a bad wedding hey,” your hands came out from Lucy’s waist to run up and down the lapel of her blazer. Your thumbs ran along the inner lining, as the nail of your thumb ran over Lucy’s crop top, from her chest and over her breasts, down to her stomach. Your eyes followed your hands, you couldn’t help yourself; you had struggled to take your eyes away from her the entire night. Plus, the fabric felt amazing on your skin.

Lucy sighed and looked you up and down. She ran her hand down from your neck and over your upper chest. She pulled at the top of your button up, buttoned a little too far down your chest.

“I couldn’t stop snacking on the prosciutto,” she chuckled. Her hands went down to your hips and up under your shirt.

You let out a long exhale. “Fuck me, I think you make a better snack than prosciutto.” Your hands ran up to Lucy’s collarbones and pushed the blazer over her shoulders and down her arms. Your eyes bulged at the sight of her arms; the European winter had hidden them over the past month. You ran your hands over the muscles as her hands ran up to your breasts. Your eyes rolled up as your eyelids closed.

“Fuck me, hey?” She raised an eyebrow and put her leg between yours then lifted her thigh. The pressure on your clit hit immediately and you let out a soft moan. “We’re got a half hour drive home, think you can wait that long?”

You began to roll your hips on her thigh softly. “Fuck me,” you whispered.

Your eyes slowly opened and quickly realised your environment was changing. “Oh fuck me,” you said loudly as the elevator doors opened. You pulled Lucy’s hands down and out from under your shirt as she lowered her leg. You brushed your shirt out as Lucy pulled her blazer up over her shoulders and turned around.

Luckily no one was outside the elevator. Lucy looked back to you and reached out her hand. You took it and you walked out into the night air together. Lucy put her arm up and a cab stopped. You both jumped into the back seat and went home to finish what had just started.

#woso imagine #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader #lucy bronze x reader #engwnt imagine

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rae-pss · 9 months

Note

I know la squadra's shared s/o is kept a secret within Passione for their safety, but one day some lower member caught them with the group or one of them.

This lead to them getting kidnapped for revenge or flirting with them cause they're all jealous on how the most despised team in Passione get to share a s/o

— RAE'S NOTE; oh my lord (👁👁). i like the angst this one could lead to...

this couldn't be happening. no, please, it had to be a joke, a very bad one.

the scene in what was once a quiet space that served as a lounge for the renowned, and disowned, group of hit men known as la squadra di esecuzione, had turned into a real disaster.

however, the disaster was not obvious at first glance, it really wasn't at all.

the room, illuminated only by a few lighted lamps, was dead; the most terrifying silence ruled it completely. all the members, nine men that each one oftheir own made anyone terrify, sunk in the gloomiest of deadly silences.

on the center table, a glass table not very high, was full of various photos. polaroid images taken over several days, weeks and even months, which were mainly focused on a single person.

—what are we going to do…?

pesci asked uncertainly, his green orbs falling mainly on the two most authority figures in the room; mainly in his fratello prosciutto and then in that of the head of the group, risotto nero. noth men's faces with an expression of complete seriousness.

—isn't it obvious?

ghiaccio, who –surprising coming from him– was calm, began to speak. although everyone knew that right now, both he and the rest were a time bomb which, each with their respective remaining time, was about to explode.

the scenario was simple, as simple as it was unnerving for the nine men. it seems that during the last few months someone has intercepted them along with a certain someone, someone they wanted out of their world as much as possible; however, life is never the way you want it to be, much less in their field of work.

someone seemed to have seen them, on multiple occasions, with that one person, which led to what none of them wanted to happen.

—they've been kidnapped…

the murmur of disbelief that came from formaggio's lips revealed how complicated the situation was. and it's that, if the photos of them didn't deceive -which they surely did not-, someone had kidnapped them and kept them locked up in who knows where.

a soft, but efficient blow was given in the table, leading the men present there to startle before directing each and every one of their glances to whoever hit the table with his clenched fist.

—melone and ghiaccio, find the ip of all their devices plus check the security cameras close by. formaggio and illuso, both to their apartment to see if there's any possible trace we can follow. prosciutto, pesci, sorbet and gelato try to find out who the kidnappers might have been.

as always, the voice of reason in the group spoke loud and clear. risotto's bloodshot eyes locked on his companions one by one as their names escaped his lips, making it clear to them what they had to do.

—we're going to find them and make whoever kidnapped them suffer until their last breath.

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eating-guts · 2 months

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after hours - prosciutto

To Prosciutto, there is nothing better than enjoying a whiskey or bourbon right after a successful mission. After staining his suit with blood, that’s the least he deserves, wouldn’t you agree?

With a cigar in one hand, and his glass on the other, he can let go of all thoughts, of all worries, and forget of all his problems if just for a single moment, until the bottle is empty.

Though… he knows his answers won’t be at the bottom of a bottle, he can imagine the will. But no matter how much he drinks, he can’t forget, but if it will help him sleep soundly, he will drink to his heart’s content.

A nice orchestral suite can never go wrong with a drink for Prosciutto.

All he is missing is a person to hold, to gently sway along with, to share a drink with.

He is way too far gone to have that, isn’t he? To deserve someone who will dance the night away with him.

How he yearns…

Yet, the life of a hitman is a lonesome one. He has come to terms with his reality.

Perhaps another glass will suffice for him.

he listens to this btw

also this is loosely based on one i did on my other blog but ANGST

#jjba part 5 #golden wind #jjba #jojo #jojo no kimyou na bouken #la squadra #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jjba prosciutto #Spotify

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faegoddessog · 6 months

Text

Fantasy Come True Ch 7/8

Chapter 7: Confessions

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, angst, Unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll), cunnilingus, fellatio, overstimulation, light restraint, fingering, light ass teasing (F. receiving), wee bit of delicious mind fuckery

Series Summary: Breaking into the acting world has been a life long dream. It's been tough, plus your relationship with you partner has some struggles, but who doesn't have struggles. A new guy shows up to your improv classes who seems strangely familiar. He seems rather interested in you and you feel unusually comfortable around him, like he projects calm and reassurance. Once you realize who he really is, and what he really likes... it's game on.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons.

A/N: This little gem is per request for the lovely and talented @purejasmine . It's been a collaborative project designed to meet her every Austin need as best I can. Here's to you darling! <clink> I hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed the creative process with parameters not wholly my own!!

Here is the Masterlist of this series.

Chapter 7: Confessions

You did, in fact, make it to his bed before morning was over, however you didn't make it out until much, much later. Lying in the aftermath of being fucked mercilessly into the mattress, he asks about the scenes you are going to tape. You two spend a little time working on your scenes naked in bed. You have one dramatic and one comedic. You run through lines and talk about character motivations. His insights and process are invaluable to you. Some analogies he makes are a little out there or just not familiar to you, but you take it all in.

“What if,” he says, talking about your character's motivations, “she just wants to do whatever she is told because it’s THAT important to her. It’s not that she is powerless, but that she will do whatever she has to, even if it means giving over her power. But in doing that, she is freed to get what she wants. Y’know?”

“No, I don’t get that, giving up the thing that she wants is how she gets it?” you say.

“It's like dominant/submissive play, but without the sex, do you see?” he asks.

“Not really, I don’t think there is an undertone of sex in the scene,” you counter.

“No it’s not really about sex per se, but… it’s just an idea of how to look at the scene. How do you see it?” he asks, letting the Dom/Sub thing go.

After, you entice him into the shower, kissing and washing each other. You are mostly just enjoying the closeness, the touch of his hands on your skin and the feeling of being pampered.

“I’m in the mood for a movie, should we have some snacks and watch something?” Austin says as you are toweling off.

“Sure, I’m down!” you say excited. You love to watch movies.

Austin tells you to go pick something out as he puts together a plate of apples, cheeses and prosciutto. You decide to watch Kingsman: The Secret Service, it’ll be silly and fun. He brings over two sparkling waters, the plate, and a paring knife.

You snuggle up on the couch with his back between your bare legs. You had never bothered putting your clothes back on, just a bra and panty set that you were super excited about finding, as they fit you perfectly, even if they were pricey. You are leaning up against the back of the couch. Austin, in solidarity with your penchant to wander the house in your underclothes, is also clad only in boxers. His long legs stretch onto the oversized ottoman. The plate is on his lap and Austin cuts pieces of apple and cheese, holding them and prosciutto up for you to nibble on. His warm body against your chest is heaven, the clean smell of him all encompassing.

You have never felt so content, and yet a deep longing bubbles up from within. THIS should be your everyday life. Comfortable sized home, man that adores you and loves to pleasure you, delicious food, the craft of acting and storytelling intertwined in everyday life. You let out a big sigh pushing away melancholy thoughts of your supposed ‘ real life’. Your fingers tangle gently with his hair, massaging his scalp, anchoring you to the here and now and the magic of having Austin’s skin on yours.

“Mmm, I think I’m hungry,” he growls sexily out of the blue.

“Hungry?” you glance at the now empty plate as he sets it aside,”What can I get from the kitchen for you babe, I’ll feed you this time,” you offer.

“That’s not what I’m hungry for, my amazing Princess,” he twists his head around to look up at you with a naughty smile, “but I'll take you up on feeding me.”

He flips over onto his stomach.

“Oh, should I pause?” you ask, picking up the remote.

“Oh no,” he pushes the ottoman away with his feet, “ you keep watching Angel.” He sinks down to his knees on the plush carpet. “I just need this irresistible pussy in my mouth,” he threads his arms under your thighs and yanks your ass to the edge of the couch,” right now.” His face is a picture of nearly animistic lust.

Your eyes get big as he grabs the paring knife and swiftly inserts the blade on the fabric at your hip.

“Like, right now,” he pulls up, slicing through the fabric.

He answers the look of scandalous shock on your face with a gruff, “I’ll replace them ten times over Princess, I just can’t wait any longer to taste you.” He does the same to the other side, his chest expanding with his needy breath, the fabric laying open to reveal your groomed vulva.

His urgency stokes a fire in your belly, your potential outrage at his destroying your underclothes sizzling into inflamed desire. You hadn’t been super wet before, when you were just cuddling, no more than your usual when you are with Austin. But when he grabbed and pulled you toward him, the buzzing down below commenced. When he cut your favorite panties from your body, you practically gushed.

He nuzzles right into your mons, inhaling your scent, smiling. His tongue takes a big, long lingering taste of your lips.

“Mmmggghhh, yes” he moans against you, eyes closed, “your juices are like heaven.”

His head moves up and down as he laps at your labia, dipping in for growling tastes as his hands grip at your thighs, almost like a cat digging in its claws. His tongue tantalizes as it draws teasing circles around your clit. His fingers pull you apart, revealing your sweet inner lips to his hungry tongue.

Just the pressure of his fingers on your lips pulls a soft whining moan of anticipation from your throat. You have one hand curled, fingers between your teeth. The other hand mutes the movie letting it play on unheeded, before twirling his locks around your fingers.

He lifts his eyes to yours.

“I want to make you cum in my mouth, Angel, but I’m going to take my time,” he says. A one sided, open-mouthed smile blooms on his wet lips and he winks.

Something about his wink makes your breath melt away from you in a soft-voiced ‘unghgh’. Your brows furrow together and all you can do is nod in agreement as his ocean eyes glimmer at you from under his long lashes. Your fingers tighten inadvertently in his hair. You feel as much as hear the little chuckle of amusement he gives against your pussy as his lips meet yours.

Long and lightly he drags his tongue up then sucks at your clit just as lightly. It’s so soft as to be almost a tickle, but one that leaves you desperate for more. Luckily, he is here for the eating of your pussy, and willing to give you as much as you want.

He continues his long, slow licks ending in suction on your clit until the sounds you are making and your hand fisting in his hair are clear indications that you need more.

He pushes his long finger inside you. He moans at how wet you are, how hot, how tight.

He slides his coiling finger out and in, licking your clit lightly.

You are sure there will be teeth marks left on your bottom lip when he closes around your clit, sucking you into the vacuum of his mouth.

He falls into a slow rhythmic pace of licking and sucking and shifting his finger in and out with a delicious little curve of his fingertip. All the while, his soft vocalizations of pleasure drift up to your ears. The wet smacking sounds of his suction off your clit drives you wild. He is unhurried, like he could do this for the rest of time.

You try to inhale a big breath, but it catches up in short, little pants. Tingling tightness loops inside you with every drag of his tongue, every immersion of his digit, every wet and sloppy sound as he sucks at your nub.

Slowly you climb that ramp like a click-clack of a roller coaster, every moment bringing you closer to that plummet into ecstasy. Then you are there, on the cusp. Falling, falling, falling, and he keeps his measured pace of feasting at your cunt. Your body goes tight, eyelids fluttering, vagina clamping onto his finger. Little grunts shake your body.

Spurred on by your climax, he pulls his finger out and buries his face in you, fingertips wrapping under and digging into your thighs. His mouth sucks greedily at your entrance, not wanting to waste a drop.

His hips are pumping against nothing, his deep moans vibrating against you, heightening your orgasm. He looks up with dark eyes, face messy. You watch as his wet finger disappears into his mouth and he sucks all your juices off it.

“Do you want my cum, Princess,” he says low, looking for all the world like a feral predator.

“Yes, ple-,” is all you get out before he stands up, pulling you with him. His mouth closes over yours in a hard, salty kiss, you don’t even notice that he has turned you around in the process.

“Far be it from me to deny my Princess what she wants.” He says against your lips. His rock hardness is pressed against your belly, you don’t remember him taking his blue boxers off. Still a little dazzled from your orgasm, you reach out to stroke him, but he grabs your wrist.

“Now, now, if you want it, you’ll do as I say,” his demeanor suddenly changes entirely. He seems taller and more commanding. Your eyes narrow for a second, wondering what he’s playing at, then you recognize the line from the scene you had been working on.

“And if I don’t?” you ask in quiet defiance, pulling out your character and the next line.

“Oh”, his look has a tinge of evil in it, ”I assure you, you’d prefer to follow my directions, Pet,” he adds the nickname to the line.

“Now,” he lets go of you and leans back away from you, “turn around.”

His voice and the serious look in his eye, make you lose your breath just a bit. You turn your back towards him, pressing your thighs together, still sensitive from his oral ministrations.

“Bend over,” his words are neatly whispered in your ear, “all fours.” He isn’t pulling lines from the scene now, just commanding you. Clearly he is thinking about his earlier point.

You hear him sit down on the couch, or would if you hadn’t been gulping so hard. Why did just his tone make you clench?

“Open up further, I want to see,” you hear from behind you.

You step your knees apart.

“Wider,” you feel a finger tip brush your inner thigh, it’s like electricity zig-zagging to your core.

“Push those gorgeous hips back.”

You do, in sort of a puppy pose with your back arched. You feel so deliciously exposed to him.

“Oh, that IS a pretty pussy,” he says almost to himself, then louder, “open it up for me.”

Balancing on your left arm, you reach between your legs and use your fore and middle fingers to spread apart your labia. His spit is beginning to dry on your outer lips. However, the glistening of your inner lips betrays to him how much you are turned on by being told what to do.

‘Now, “ a little rasp of desire sneaks into his voice, “finger yourself.”

Suddenly, you feel unexpectedly hesitant, like this is pushing you out of your comfort zone for some unfathomable reason. You are fine touching yourself, even fine doing it in front of him, but there is something about being so vulnerable bent over and exposed. You are stopped in your tracks, trying to figure out why you feel this way out of the blue.

“Do you still want my cum?” you can almost hear his eyes narrowing in his voice.

“Oh lord yes, Austin,” your tone boarding on begging. Just his name out of your mouth is scintillating. His words snap you out of your hesitation.

You feel his thumbs hold you open, his finger splayed out over your ass and hips bones.

“Then finger yourself,” he insists.

You move your middle finger to slide slowly through your wetness.

“Yes,” he breathes, “just like that. God that is beautiful.”

After a couple minutes, he leans his body over your back, his breath hot on your neck.

“Do you trust me, Pet? “ his hips tuck forward. His hard dick nudges almost lazily against your crotch.

“Yes,” your voice wavers slightly. You stop your finger movement.

“Are you sure?” you can hear his sexy smirk. You twist to look over your right shoulder at him, and are met with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The little dimple that appears over the left corner of his mouth evaporates any equivocation.

“One hundred percent, Austin,” you give in totally.

“That’s my good girl, my sweet Pet,” he croons sweetly in your ear. “Keep fingering yourself,” his tone back to demanding as he moves back to watch you.

As you slide inside yourself again, rubbing over your clit. You smile at his words, at being his good girl.

He is petting the back of your opening, pulling at your wet, pink inner lips. You feel his finger sink in next to yours. He moves in opposition to you, when you go in he pulls out, and vice versa. Fuck, the extra friction is so good.

Then he pulls out and up and you feel his wet finger drag unexpectedly over your asshole. It makes you jump forward.

“Tch, I thought you trusted me,” he admonishes, grabbing your hand.

“I do, Yes, I do” you pant, “ I just…oh!” you feel his tip nudge again against your wet pussy. He gives you no time to finish your sentence.

“Good,” is all he says as he slowly pushes in. “Ohhhh,” he lets out his breath in a long low groan. Your hand lingers, playing with his balls as he sheathes himself fully.

His wet thumb returns to your asshole, just placed there no rubbing, no teasing. You are still a little nervous about what he might do, you aren’t really into things in your butt. But you DO trust him, you remind yourself.

At this angle his cock feels long, prodding your cervix, making you groan.

“Do you want it, beautiful Angel?” his deep reverberations are almost hypnotic, “do you want my cum inside you?”

All you want is for him to fuck you into next week, but he just stays still, dick in you deep, thumb on your ass.

‘I do, yes, give it to me baby, please,” affirming in all the ways you can think of in your Austin-addled state.

“Give?” he questions with an incredulous smile, “ Oh no, you have to come get it, my sexy little cum slut.” The fingertips on his free hand push you slightly forward, then wrap around the front of your hip bone guiding you back. Once you get the gist he takes his hand away.

You can’t help but move on him.

“That’s it, pretty Princess,” his voice is hot caramel pouring over you,”fuck it out of me.”

Your breath leaves you with an ‘oh fuck’ as his words incite a sexual riot in you.

On all fours, you rock back and forth in front of him, along his length. As you rock on his cock, you rub your asshole against his thumb. It’s unexpectedly good. So good, you let go being jumpy about your ass. Your body wants what it wants.

“Oh look at you,” his sexy voice rolling over you, “so greedy for my cock, so starved for my cum, and it's only been a couple hours.” His breath huffs from him in rising passion, ”grinding your ass against my thumb, all hot and wanting. Fuck you are mesmerizing, Princess.”

He starts to lose his own control, unable to stop thrusting into you. “You make me so… fucking… hard. I just want you all the damn time.”

You are moving in synchronicity, his cock in you and you back on his cock. His thumb is giving you that glorious friction, your fingers on your clit; it’s a whirlwind. A veritable tornado of friction, desire, perfect mind-fuckery and magic; Austin Butler magic.

Your pussy clenches hard around him.

“Oh fuck, that’s good,” he groans.

You hear yourself moaning loud Uhhghh’s and Ohhhh’s as you undulate in front of him. You jerk forward involuntarily as your orgasm hits you hard.

Austin’s hands clamp down on your hips, riding you down. There is no way he isn’t filling you with his cum now, no matter how long it takes.

Groaning into the upholstery of the ottoman, you continue to be pounded from behind. He simultaneously holds you down and spreads your cheeks with his hands. Fucking hell, at this angle he is triggering all your buttons and you keep cumming. It’s so good.

He sounds feral behind you. The moans hissing out through his teeth become deep chested growls that become open voweled groans as he fucks you harder and harder. Sweat drips onto your back.

You are losing your mind. Your fingers, trapped under you, are twitching against your clit, you want to stop them, but just can’t quite get them to still.

Finally he pushes in deep, muscles straining. All sound frozen in his lungs, until his deep growls and groans of satisfaction make their exodus from him to wash over you. His hips jerk pushing him just that much deeper as he empties into you.

“I guess,” he pants just behind your ear, “I gave it to you after all.”

“I love it,” you just barely stop yourself from saying ‘I love you’.

Still in you, Austin rolls onto his side, clinging to you like you are the only refuge in his personal storm. You curl up in the cradle of his arms. Taron Egerton is cleverly, yet silently, kicking ass on the TV, although you are both too blissed out to give it any mind.

When you wake up from dozing some time later. When had you fallen asleep? You find that you have rolled over in Austin’s arms to face him. He is petting your hair and holding you to him. He has a weird look on his face, like conflicting thoughts are running through his mind. Once he sees your eyes on him, he smiles big.

“Good nap?”

“Oh lord yes,” you stretch and sit up. “I’ll be right back,” you stand up, but Austin grabs your arm.

“I mean it,” he blurts out. The words clearly by passing his conflicting thoughts and going straight to his mouth.

“What do you mean, Austin,” your brow furrows slightly. Your hand automatically cradles his face.

“I meant what I said, when we were…” his eyebrows lift, conveying his meaning for him, “I want you all the time, I want you here, to stay here, to be with me always.”

“What?” you are dumbstruck by this sudden confession.

“Move in with me, be mine,” his hand covering yours on his face.

Your heart jumps in your chest. It’s like every dream you’ve ever had is being plopped into your lap. You blink once, twice, unsure what to say or do next. Then your bladder reminds you why you got up in the first place.

“I need,” you gesture towards the bathroom,”be right back.”

Sitting in his beautiful little powder room, you attempt to absorb this new information. You had literally been thinking about wanting this life. The fires of hope that spring in your heart are quickly doused by your practical mind.

‘Is this stable? Is it smart to leave all else behind and move in here?’ it asks. Fucking fuckity fuck. You look at yourself in the mirror.

“God dammit,” you whisper to yourself, knowing you can’t ignore her, as much as you want to. As much as you hate it, you rely on your partner financially right now and that is, if not a satisfying life, a safe one. Your sense of self preservation insists that you make sure this isn’t some two month infatuation that will leave you in the cold.

As you walk back into the living room in nothing but your bra, Austin is sitting naked on the couch with his head in his hands. The TV is off.

You sit down in front of him on the ottoman.

“Did I just ruin everything?” he asks, still looking at the floor.

“Huh?” you ask, not expecting him to sound so emotional.

“I asked you to move in and you walked away,” he says looking up at you, the shadows of abandonment flitting across his face, fearful tears shining in his eyes.

“Oh Austin, darling,” you take his face in your hands, “I just needed to pee and clean up and think for a second. You didn’t ruin anything.” You kiss him tenderly on the forehead.

He blows out a big breath, trying to regain his composure.

“Before you say anything, no matter your answer, I need to tell you something, ok?” he states. You nod.

“Remember when I told you before I was falling for you? Well, that was sort of a lie,” he admits.

Your heart falls into your stomach without warning. What the hell is going on? He wants you to stay, but as what? Just his convenient tight pussy? Someone whom he can control by ‘taking care’ of them. Would this just be out of the frying pan and into the fire? Heat rises up your tightening chest. ‘I will NOT cry when he tells me it’s a fling,’ you tell yourself resolutely. You are usually so positive, but the idea of Austin lying to you about falling for you is like a punch in the gut. You brace yourself with a big breath.

“It’s a lie because I’m already so far gone for you. I am so in love with you, my Princess,” his eyes are pleading that you’ll hear his truth, “I know it’s not been that long, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, like I’ve just been waiting for you this whole time.”

His words stop your internal destructive narrative in its tracks. That was NOT what you expected him to say. The look in his eyes is like a release valve for your breath. In a flash you realize you almost fell into your own trap, the one you’ve been cycling in for over a decade.

“Oh” is all you can get out. Your mouth is trying to say words, but you are caught, in his eyes, in his hands, in his heart. You finally recover a little from your shock.

“I love you, Austin,” the words simply slipping past anything else you thought of saying, “I’ve wanted to tell you so many times. I love you, Austin, oh god how much,” your words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Relief floods his face, he pulls you in. His kiss is intense. You had no idea what he had been holding back, until suddenly, he is holding nothing back. It’s like a wave of adoration and affection washes over you as he kisses you and holds you in his arms. It’s so hard to describe, like light flooding into your cells.

He breaks the kiss and crushes you to him.

“So you’ll stay?” he says eagerly.

“Babe, I don’t know.” you are on the verge of tears from the yo-yo of emotions.

“What?” he responds almost incredulously before he takes a second to gather himself back in again, terrified his tender heart will get trudged upon. “Ok, what don’t you know,” he says much more calmly.

“Do you know why I have stayed with him?” you say matter-of-factly,” Security. No, he isn’t a great lover or even a good partner, and sometimes he is an outright asshole. But I know he won’t leave me in the cold as I try my hand at this acting thing.” You ignore the counterpoint of you leaving him, but at least he won’t be in the cold, he’ll just be getting the partner he deserves. Which isn’t you. Austin is the one who deserves all your love and devotion, your thoughtfulness and caring. FUCK, how can you you say no to him, but how can you simply say yes? How can you make this right in your head!

“I would never leave you in the cold Princess, I am offering you security as well as everything he isn’t giving you and more. Please,” he pleads. Even begging with unshed tears in his eyes, he is so utterly beautiful.

“Oh god, this is hard,” you mutter to yourself, looking up at the ceiling, trying to control how topsy-turvy your emotional world just got.

“I know, I know Austin. Please hear me when I say that there is literally no one else on this planet that I would leave for, only you. It’s always and ever only been you. It’s… “ you grab his hands, ‘no… you are everything that I want and so much more.”

Tears spring to your eyes, knowing what you have to say next.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you the answer you want, the one I want, not yet anyway. And I do want to, my darling, I do. I want to scream yes and go back there, gather my stuff and just walk out. The idea of this being my home, of YOU being my home? It’s intoxicating and almost scary in how perfect a dream it is. But my practical side just won’t let me. Austin, you have to understand, I have to be sure. I have to know that this is forever, that this,” you gesture back and forth between you, ”can provide me some stability before I drop that safety net. Once I leave him, I can’t go back and I have nowhere else I can go.”

Miraculously, Austin is nodding, “Ok, I - I hear what you are saying. I can understand that point of view. It’s a big thing to ask of you.” He ponders in silence for a moment, gears turning in his head. “If I can prove to you, beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am committed to this, that your security and stability matters as much to me as it does to you, will you?”

“I would do it in a heartbeat, I want nothing more in the world, than to be yours mind, body and soul, Austin�� you say, sniffling. Geeze, usually you aren’t this emotional.

“Okay, ��he nods again, “okay love, that gives me some hope to go on, something I can work towards.”

“Something we can work towards,” you correct him. “I love giving you control over me during sex, this,” you push his hand between your legs, ”truly is your pussy, my mouth,” you kiss him, “is only for you now. But, if we are really going to go down the relationship road, I don’t want it to be based on ‘ownership’ like that. I want a partnership, where we can be of equal, if different, support for one another. I want to take care of you as much as you take care of me, y’know what I mean?”

Austin is nodding at you, his hand still pressed to your crotch.

“I love that and I love you, my Princess,” he pulls you into his lap, wiping an escaped tear from your cheek. “It feels so good to actually tell you. I was holding it in, not wanting to scare you away.” His arm closes around you, cradling your head against his naked shoulder.

“Austin, how could your love ever scare me away,” you snuggle in close.

You press his hand back between your legs, suddenly craving him, craving the comfort of sexual contact, of what you DO know, what you ARE sure of: that his body was made for you, and yours for his.

“Please,” you whisper in his ear, “I just want you inside me.”

He turns towards you, brushing his cheek against your lips. “Are you sure baby?”

“Austin Butler just told me that he loved me, yes I am sure,” you smile at him, biting your lip.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, capturing your eyes with his. His wet fingers stroke your labia.

“I DO love you,” he presses in lightly, finding your own wetness already gathering there.

His fingers stroke you, playing around your clit.

“And I want you,” he pushes his finger inside of you, ”to be mine...” You moan low as his thumb lazily arcs, tracing the archway of your clit.

…forever,” he whispers in your ear.

You melt, you pool, you ooze. You are, in this moment, almost willing to say ‘fuck security’ and never leave. Almost.

When you cum in his lap and on his fingers, it’s to his whispered voice in your ear repeating over and over, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You straddle his leg to face him on the couch, gathering his face in your hands.

“I love you Austin Butler, I love you, I’ve always loved you,” now that you have no qualms saying it outloud, you can’t seem to say it enough.

Arms around his neck you press your lips to his, and your pussy to his leg. He flexes his muscular thigh, which pushes right up into your wet folds. You groan slightly into his mouth. His hands are on your hips pulling you towards him, then pushing you away. Your wet pussy laying down strings of slick on his skin.

It’s like some door inside you unlatched and you are suddenly horny as hell. His sexy gaze on you and his tongue unconsciously wetting his gorgeous full bottom lip before capturing it in his teeth. His hands guiding you on him. You get so close to cumming as you ride him. You finally climb off him, panting, heart racing, unsure of what you need next to get you there. The look you give him is so sexy and utterly debauched.

“Oh hunny,” he rumbles, “C’mon.”

He stands and pulls you into a deep kiss, takes you by the hand, walks backward to the stairs. He guides you up the first step. Now, even with his height, he kisses you again. He begins forcing you, with intense kisses, to take steps backwards up the stairs. His hands are on your breasts and your ass; grasping, rolling, kneading. Your hands are all over him, outlining muscles, fingertips in the light hairs on his chest, rubbing his nipples with the pads of your thumbs.

Suddenly you sit hard on the bed, you hadn’t even realized you were in the bedroom.

“Back up and spread those legs, my Princess,” his breath is shaky trying to control his desire for you. “You are fucking incredible and enchanting,” he crawls up your body, until he is croutching above you like a predator over its kill. “I just can't ever get enough of you, my Angel. You drive me crazy in the best ways possible.”

If you were wearing panties, they’d be ruined. After this, the bedspread may need to be replaced.

“And in case you are wondering,” his eyes and voice so full of desire, “I’m going to bring that pussy, my pussy, to so many orgasms tonight you won’t be able to walk right tomorrow,” he kisses you hard, pushing himself inside you.

He spends the entire evening and into the night making good on this promise as though it were the first step in proving just how serious he is about keeping you. You cum on his cock as he steadily thrusts into you. He cuddles you sweetly, kissing your forehead, letting your heart rate calm down. Until his hand finds its way to your crotch. You cum on his fingers as he stares deep into your eyes. He holds you tight, nibbling at your neck, kissing your sternum as it rises and falls. He pulls your nipples into his mouth, sucking them one, then the other. He showers your belly with kisses, growling just a little as he does. Now he is settling between your knees, his tongue dipping greedily into your wet snatch. You cum on his tongue as he laps you into oblivion.

You beg for his cock in your mouth. You suck his tip as he strokes his own shaft. You hold his base in your left hand while your right, seemingly of its own accord, plays with yourself. It’s like you just can’t stop. As his hot milky seed spurts onto your tongue, you twitch and swallow, jerk and swallow, cum and swallow. Moaning deep as you lick up every fucking drop of his cum like it’s the nectar of the gods.

After every orgasm, your body searches for more, you just can’t get satiated. And each time, he waits until you come down from your peak before ramping you up again.

Late that night, you are floating in a surreal cloud of oxytocin and dopamine, time meaning nothing. Austin has you bent over the bed, your wrists are in the small of your back. His long fingered hand is wrapped around them, using them as an anchor point as he slams into you. You had begged him to go hard and deep into you and never stop. Maybe, if he fucks you hard enough you might be done. You are moaning on the end of his dick.

“No, I need…” you moan as you twist one hand out from his grasp.

“What do you need, my Princess,” he pants out.

“Over,” you twist your spine, flipping on to your back, legs wide.

He plunges right back into you. You moan. There’s no reprieve for the wickedly horny. His hands are wrapped around the tops of your thighs, thumbs digging in.

You hold up two fingers, his tongue licks up the pads then over, sucking your fingers and swirling his tongue. You withdraw your wet digits and press them between you. Your clit feels huge, engorged as your fingers brush it. Your voice breathing out little yeses as you draw the invisible sigils that you know will get you there.

He watches you. His brows furrowed together, mouth hanging open in a little ‘oh’. This is so much better, being able to see him. He is panting, sweating, straining, doing everything in his power to make you cum yet again. Good lord he is so unbelievably sexy, and he loves you. The thought strikes you, hard.

Suddenly the tinder catches, fire shoots deep into your core as you clench around him, erupting into flames that envelop your pelvis, your spine, your chest up your neck and into your brain.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my girl!” His voice is deep, almost harsh as his hips snap harder, faster back and forth.

You are jerking on him, your orgasm filling you, just as you expect he is going to with his cum. You remove your fingers only to have them replaced with his, light and fast rubbing side to side on your sensitive nub.

“Nonononono!” you scream hoarsely, pushing uselessly at his hands.

“Oh yes, yes,” he says through clenched teeth. “My pussy is getting the works tonight my love, you know what to say and I’m gonna suck, finger, fuck, and shake that pussy until you do.”

You realize he has lulled you into a comfortable cycle of orgasm, come down, relax, then back to orgasm. Now his beautifully evil plan unfolds, and you are so unbelievably sensitive.

You try wriggling away from him, but his hand is clamped down on your thigh as he keeps fucking you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, it’s overwhelming, but oh so good. In a flash he is gone, for a split second there is nothing touching you, and your eyes shoot open, trying to breathe. Then his mouth closes over your pussy. Your breath is gone again as he pulls your clit into the vacuum of his mouth. His tongue is merciless against you. Your hips vibrate, your hands grasp his hair. Your screams fill the room, you can’t even hear the sloppy suction of his mouth on you.

“ SS… SSS… No,no, no! STOP!” you finally cry shaking your head. He rises, immediately grasping your pussy in his large hand, shaking it, keeping you writhing.

“No, I won’t my love, you know that,” his voice is so smooth and relaxed. The palm of his hand pressing and shaking your mons.

Your orgasm rocks you again and again. Again and again you beg him to stop, but never use your word. You have backed yourself up to the headboard in an effort to get away from his hands, his fingers, his mouth. But in the next second, you are pushing against it and towards him. Your body and mind are locked in conflict; it’s too much, it’s not enough. You are pushed so far into pleasure you don’t know how much longer you can stand it. At the same time, you never want him to stop.

“Ok Princess,” he says, getting on his knees, lifting your ankles to his shoulders,”I’m gonna fuck my sweet little pussy until I cum. Until I’m satisfied.” His grin is nothing short of devilry as he slides, long and hard, inside you. Your body is responding without your consent, attempting to plank on his shoulders to get away from his cock.

“Oh no you don’t, “ he pushes your hips back down, impaling you once again, “you are gonna take my cock, darling, like a good girl,” he admonishes.

He leans down, your legs sliding down his arms, your knees close to your armpits. He grabs your arms near the elbows pinning you down like a frog on its back. You can’t push him off, you don’t want to, not that your body is listening to you. It’s insane how fucking maniacally good it feels to be so overstimulated. He slides in and out experimentally in this new position. Fuck, he is deep as he slides right into your g-spot.

Oh. Holy. Fuckballs.

You grit your teeth, shaking your head ‘no’.

No to him.

No to yourself.

You refuse to say the word until he orgasms again. You want to hear what a good girl you are, you want to be his incredible Princess, you want to take everything he can give you.

He rails into you, grunting, growling, moaning; sounds he knows drive you wild. You had no idea that being held down like this would be such a fucking turn on. No idea that you could feel this good for this long. You are about to give in, scream the word. When he pulls out of you and pumping his cock with his hand, spatters your pussy and your belly with thick, creamy cum. His panting groans fill the air, his sweat drips onto your legs. You think you are home free, until his palm starts rubbing his cum into your pussy in circles.

“What a good girl you are, taking my cock so deep” he croons at you. “You want more?” He slips his finger in you, “I’ll keep going Angel, my sweet love.”

You can’t believe he still has the energy to keep going. His thumb falls onto your clit and you just can’t anymore.

“FUCK! Sushi!” you cry out once. You are fucking worn out. Your whole pelvis is buzzing and sobs start shaking your body in an effort to process the whole fucking thing.

He stops instantly and gathers you in his arms.

“Shh, darling. My good Princess. I’m so proud of you, my good girl, my love,” he says softly against your temple.

He is fucking amazing.

He holds you, messy and sweaty, until your heart rate slows and your breathing evens. He holds the bottle of water as you drink, then takes you to the shower. You sit on the little bench, trying not to pass out. He cleans and dries you both quickly and tosses the ruined bedspread off the bed before tucking you into the sheets. He covers you with a blanket he pulls out from his closet and turns out the light. He climbs in behind you, warm body pressed against your back.

“Good night my love. I love you,” he whispers into your ear.

“Mmm, my Austin, love you,” is all you can get out before sleep claims you.

Your eyes flutter open in the morning and you are absolutely relaxed. The revelations of yesterday slide into focus. Austin is in love with you. Austin wants you to stay with him, forever. Austin plans to show you how much your stability matters to him too. It’s like the pieces of your real life are sliding into focus and that fake unhappy life is melting away. When you think about living happily ever after with Austin, you are calm and completely happy. Austin is breathing heavy and even behind you, still deeply asleep. When you get up to use the bathroom you find you are definitely sore, but it’s the best kind of sore you have ever been. When you snuggle back against Austin, a little smile creeps over his face.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfic #austin butler smut #austin butler fic #austin butler x reader #@slowsweetlove #@purejasmine #@richardslady121 #austin butler/reader

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kattartsblog · 1 year

Text

Rated: M

Warnings: Angst, Death, and Violence

Ilona Liquirizia has been brought to La Squadra’s base of operations, aka Risotto’s apartment.

“Not to question your judgment Risotto, but are you sure that bringing them into your place is a good idea?” Risotto didn’t answer, he knew that Ilona’s raw power would be useful to his team. The 3 of them walked for a bit till they reached a shabby little apartment building in a narrow alleyway. This apartment building acted as the hitman team’s base, but on the second floor was Risotto’s personal suite. Risotto dug into his pocket for a set of keys and unlocked the door. Realizing that he wasn’t going to answer his question, Prosciutto darted a suspicious look towards Ilona, “You better not cause trouble, you understand?” Ilona nodded, they were still uneasy about being picked up off the street by two scary men. “It’s going to rain soon, I better get going.”

“Ciao, see you tomorrow for the team meeting.” Risotto said as he waved goodbye to Prosciutto.

Ilona was welcomed into Risotto’s small white walled apartment. There wasn’t much space but they were glad to not be sleeping in the streets anymore. A faint smell of fancy cigars and alcohol was in the air, a cold chill ran through making Ilona shiver. They untied their old school uniform jacket and put it on to keep warm. Risotto motioned Ilona to follow him down a small hallway to a selection of brown doors with dull gold knobs, he began to point to the one at the very end of the hallway. “That’s my room, and over to the left is my personal office. Do not ever go into these rooms without my permission. If I’m in there just knock. Got it?” Ilona nodded, Risotto then pointed to a set of doors on the right, “The one with the large knife slash on the door is the bathroom. Everyone who comes to visit uses it from time to time, just be extra careful. Oh and the door next to it is a bedroom for Sorbet and Gelato, you’ll meet them eventually. Finally that’s a guest room, you’re not staying in that one but just know people tend to stay overnight.” Ilona didn’t say a word but seemed to be understanding, Risotto could tell that they were anxiously awaiting the reveal on where they would sleep.

Risotto guided Ilona to a door to the right closest to where they were standing, it was painted white, camouflaged by the rest of the wall and had a steel door knob to differentiate it from the others. Opening this door revealed a small pink room with a dusty cream carpet floor. The only furniture inside were; a wooden brass desk, a small twin size bed, and something covered by a large cloth sheet. “Before this place was ours, a family had said to have lived here but were evicted by la famiglia's loan sharks. This was their daughter’s room, at least according to some of the photos that were left behind near the vanity.” Ilona gingerly lifted the sheet off of the vanity and had revealed small picture frames that carried pictures of a happy family. Ilona caressed one of the frames then placed it back on the vanity, they were silently scanning the perimeter for anything disturbing but found nothing. They looked at Risotto, “This room is for me?” Risotto placed a hand on their shoulder, “Yes, make yourself comfortable. If you need anything, I’ll be organizing paperwork in my office.” And with that Risotto left for his office, closing the door behind him.

Ilona flopped onto the bed and was enveloped by the comfortable softness of the mattress, unlike the rest of the apartment the sheets and pillows smelled like faded lavender perfume. Kicking off their shoes, Ilona jumped at the opportunity to go under the blankets and rest. It had been a few weeks since they had slept on a proper bed. The rain outside began to transition from a drizzle to something harder, Ilona began to think of Prosciutto in this harsh weather. Hoping the stiff blonde made it back home safely. They began to wonder of the possible other folk Risotto had mentioned that came to stay. Nervously, Ilona turned their body to the left, shuffling in their blankets. They saw a small closet with a wooden folding door, curiosity striked as they rolled out of bed to cautiously walk to the closet.

Ilona slowly opened the door and inside were a lot of miscellaneous items; an old toy chest, a record player with a vinyl of Talking Heads’ Little Creatures, and a small envelope with “To Giacomo” written on it. Ilona tried to open the envelope, but their paws were much too big to open the tiny flap. Gingerly, they used their claws like tweezers in order to finally reveal a pink piece of paper inside. “Giacomo, I’m sorry but I couldn’t stand it. Your involvement with Passione has put us at risk. Just the other day I had picked up Natalia from her friend’s house, and their father who I have never met said that he knew you. Last night, I found a large wad of cash in your office with a note saying “fratello”! I don’t know what you are doing but I know that what you’re doing is dangerous. I’m going to my mother's with our daughter. It’s over. - Fiore”. Ilona grew concerned at what they had read, and then cautiously opened the toy chest. Inside was an old wedding veil, a stuffed toy dog, a stuffed toy cat, and what looked like a child’s drawing that said “To papa, Natalia”.

A small wave of sadness wafted in Ilona’s chest. They felt bad that Natalia wouldn’t be able to have a father figure in her life, she would be all alone and maybe feel a bit angry that she’ll never see her papa again. Assuming the man was dead of course. The gears in Ilona’s mind began to turn. Passione, a criminal organization that had their own greedy goals in mind and would do anything at all for it. But at the same time, something about Risotto didn’t entirely fit that image. Suddenly Ilona’s paws began to shake, a realization had finally dawned on them. If Passione is so dangerous, why would they actively want Ilona? What have they gotten themselves into?

#jjba #risotto nero #prosciutto #la squadra #ilona liquirizia #jjba oc #Daily Assassin Life #one shot #angst #cw death #tw death #canon divergent

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jellyluchi · 3 months

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An Education in Humanity

A/N: I had this idea while in the shower and since I'd not written profoca in a while it seemed like something new to explore. It is probably their least physically affectionate story. The Egypt stuff I can’t explain just imagine they’re going on vacation. And Idk if they had credit cards back in 2001.

Pairing: Prosciutto x Focaccia Genre: Fluff, Angst (?) Content warnings: implied racial discrimination Summary: Two assassins run into a difficulty when grocery shopping

Grocery shopping is an entirely ordinary affair for people who are entangled within the sordid shadows of the world. Through the maze of aisles carrying produce, bottles, cans, and boxes, it’s easy to keep oneself hidden. But that is not at all necessary for the kind of work Focaccia and her husband have been up to lately. Holding a bag of flour in her hands, she fumbles with translating simple Italian adjectives in her mind. Frowning at the fine print, she turns to Prosciutto.

“What does this say?” she points a manicured finger to an unfamiliar Italian word. Even grocery shopping in the years that has immersed her into the language has not schooled her vocabulary.

The man gives a nonchalant glance to the sack, his head turned downwards with boredom playing on his face. Unlike his usual disposition for a well tailored suit he opted for a thermal coat and layers of cotton underneath. Neapolitan winters may not summon snow, even at night, but the chill is enough to warrant warm outerwear. Not to mention the air-conditioned interiors of most grocery shops.

“Something about heart health,” Prosciutto says the words as though they are of no consequence. Focaccia glances once more at the price, thinking of how much flour they have left.

“Just take it,” her husband commands, already turning to disappear into the next alleyway of items.

Huffing, Focaccia places the little bag into their cart. At least it is good for her indecisiveness. If Prosciutto deems something good enough then it must be, right?

Following close behind, she pushes the cart aimlessly looking at what he picks up and snatching a couple snacks on the way. Other shoppers stay out of their path most of the time but Focaccia catches the eye of a lady and smiles. The pitiable woman’s oculars shift from the towering, uncouth figure behind her before easing into reciprocating her expression and moving on. Despite the quickness with which she made herself scarce, Focaccia spotted her trepidation towards Prosciutto, commiserating her.

Fluttering about from one area to the next, they work slowly into fulfilling the list of standard monthly items. Illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights and accompanied by soft but boring music, Focaccia feels a sense of peace for their mostly idyllic life they have been able to lead. If she tries hard enough, she could pretend their lives are almost normal.

Once the necessary items are procured, the pair wait patiently in line behind a few other groups of people. Mothers, daughters, uncles, and grandparents, go about their daily lives. She’s no stranger to hushed murmurs of the spoken language but Focaccia sometimes wishes she knew exactly what they were saying.

Eyeing the cashier she notices a dark haired man working behind the counter rather enthusiastically and unusually fast. He’s talkative from the way animated expressions and loud voice that emanates from him. Or perhaps that is customary for Italians.

“Can you pay?” She pleads to Prosciutto, the man looking the other way, makes a non-committal noise of agreement. Having been bad at math most of her life, Focaccia hates counting her money by the cashier and holding the line. It’s humiliating, especially with people more than happy to point out how slow she is.

Moving to stand out of view behind her husband, she lets the cart stay by his waist as the line moves along. Prosciutto is much less awkward than herself, usually making conversation if someone speaks first. Focaccia always finds herself stumbling with her broken Italian before they start speaking in English out of pity or some such thing.

Only when it’s their turn does she walk to the other end of the counter, attending to the groceries being bagged. There is the usual sound of the cashier’s voice greeting Prosciutto but the man says something unfamiliar that she assumes to be for conversation. At Prosciutto’s silence she looks up to see his utter shock, eyes widening for a fraction of a second and lips apart. It’s a rare sight and Focaccia barely has a moment to understand before his face contorts to an extreme grimace. But what follows is most certainly never something she would expect, especially in such a public setting.

Hauling himself over the counter with his tall frame, Prosciutto doesn’t have to reach far before taking the poor cashier by the neck for a swift punch to the horror of those in line. The commotion escalates fast and Focaccia fears what would happen if she lets it get worse.

“Stop! Stop!” Yelling, she pulls him back by the waist, hoping the damage isn’t too bad. It’s strange, he’s never acted this way before. Whatever was said to him must have struck a nerve. “What’s going on?!” She demands from him, now noticing the poor disheveled worker and the look of pure hatred in Prosciutto’s eyes. He does not even show this much emotion when he’s killing a target.

Instead of answering her questions, Prosciutto spits Italian curses at his opponent before being pulled outside by his wife. She carries the two grocery bags, worried about whether they’d be banned from coming back. “What happened?! What did he say?” She would be worried about whether he paid for their groceries or not but her priorities were just reshuffled.

“Let’s not talk about these things here,” he replies, taking both of the bags from her before a protective arm on her lower back ushers her to their car. It’s clear Prosciutto is still angry and agitated from his encounter. The usual scowl on his face is much deeper than she’s used to, and the knuckles on the steering wheel are white from his grip. She’s only so thankful that his frustration does not manifest itself in his driving lest they run a red light.

Dinner is quiet, something quickly put together with some of the groceries they bought earlier. And Focaccia is too nervous to ask what weighs on Prosciutto’s mind. His eyes soften when they meet hers, his blues a particularly mysterious shade and her browns twinkling with silent questions but he seems unable to meet them for long.

After their meal, Prosciutto settles into bed, watching her comb her hair with an air of disdain still hanging around him. Sitting beside him, she puts an arm around his back, feeling the muscles relax. “What did he say, Prosciutto,” she asks.

“...It doesn’t matter,” comes his moody but defeated reply, clearly irritated from being reminded of the conversation.

“Please,” Focaccia says. “I have to know.”

Sighing, Prosciutto’s body seems to deflate, letting go of all the anger repressed inside his body all evening. “He said…something derogatory.” Prosciutto opts not to translate the vile words.

“About you?” Focaccia says in confusion.

“I wouldn’t have cared so much if it were about me.”

Staring at him with silent understanding, Focaccia moves closer. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

This seems to anger him further. “And let him say whatever he wants about my wife?”

“I mean you don’t have to protect me,” she says with a smile. “I didn’t survive this long here on my own for nothing. Or in the west for that matter. I may not speak the language, but I can tell. It’s in their eyes.”

She finds something very rare within his eyes, a speck of melancholy as if understanding only a miniscule amount of her experiences for the first time. And it renders him somewhat speechless.

“Tell me,” she says. “Did you attack him just for me or would you have done that if he said that about someone else?”

At her question he thinks before answering. “Anyone else and he would have earned a glare and a dismissal. I admit,” he says with the voice of a man who is entirely not sorry for his actions, “the punch was personal.”

Smiling fondly, she hugs him close.

“Don’t stop me if it happens again,” he murmurs. Again… because it is something she will simply have to live with.

A thought occurs to her. “Maybe it is you who will have to experience it when we are in Egypt,” she says. “Don’t worry, I will protect you then.”

The words have their intended effect and Prosciutto chuckles somewhat forlornly.

“Or,” he suggests. “We could find the CEO of the grocery store and blackmail him for money,” the mischievous smirk in his mouth beckons.

Focaccia lets go, looking at him with some excitement and disbelief before cackling with laughter. “I like that.”

Bonus A/N: The reason why I was hesitant about posting this is because of the subject matter being sensitive and all its implications. I have not thought of every possibility or the best interpretation for it. But most importantly I wanted to emphasize Prosciutto not being some white savior trope and Focaccia knowing how to deal with them in her own way. it's just great to see Pros jumping someone for disrespecting his wife. It's not written here but it's possible he went back and stalked that dude to kill him or worse LOL

#prosciutto #jjba x oc #prosciutto x focaccia #prosciutto x oc #selfship stuff #focaccia fics #fics #sid writes #focaccia stuff

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icerisotto · 13 days

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⟡﹒ veleno ' ꒱

⌦ genre: angst.

⌦ type: oneshot.

⌦ status: finished.

⌦ couple: risotto﹢ ghiaccio﹢ prosciutto.

⌦ warnings: infidelity, suicide, unhealthy relationships, unfair power dynamics, forbidden love, divorce, broken marriage, alcoholism, lies, double-dating, mental instability, emotional manipulation, impossible love, broken promises, depression, age gap.

☆ plot:

Risotto and Prosciutto are a married couple. They retired from being criminals and started living the life of their dreams. However, their marriage is stuck in a tiring, vague routine. After everything they tried failed, the couple started cheating on each other in secret until something unexpected happened. Or, Risotto and Prosciutto find out they're cheating on each other with the same person.

★ where to read: here.

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mink-place · 2 years

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La squadra finding their s/o dead after a mission?

Sure! Hope this is okay, dear anon! I made it kinda like headcanons but scenarios(? Idk, it's too long lol

Also, I didn't put Illuso bc it's hard to me to write for him, but if you want Illuso just ask me and I'll do it! (Prosciutto it's a lil ooc)

La Squadra Di Esecuzione finding their s/o dead after a mission

Tw: death, angst.

Risotto Nero

He was worried about his partner, they didn't answer his calls on the last hour, they were sent to a mission and they were supposed to call when they had finished it.

Telling Prosciutto to watch the base and getting on the car of Ghiaccio he drove to the location of the mission.

He entered onto the building, looking that it was destroyed, dust floating in the air on a fog and debris on the floor.

He was quiet while looking for someone, maybe the enemy where still there. But then he saw an arm under a piece of ceiling.

His eyes opened wide, but still tried to keep as quiet as he could while approaching the body who now he recognized at his partner.

He moved the piece of ceiling above them, looking their fragile body covered in blood, their torn clothes and finally their face, eyes empty and their half open mouth, all covered in sweat, dust and blood.

His heart was racing as he picked up his s/o on his lap, with one of his hands he hoped of them to have pulse or be breathing, even if it was a little bit. But they weren't.

For a while he kept on there, kneed with his s/o on his lap, looking to their eyes, as if they were going to move again.

He didn't have the privilege to cry, he couldn't cry, he needed to get to the base and just get over it, but he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

“I failed for you, as your partner and as your capo.” he murmurs to them, knowing that they won't hear him.

“I'm... Sorry.” he stands up with them on his arms and slowly goes back to the car, not looking back to the building.

During the drive back to the base he has a blank expression, knowing that when he arrives he's not Risotto, he's the capo, and he has to behave like one even on the tougher moments.

He gets to the base, gets out of the car and picks them up again. Enters in the base, where all of La Squadra are waiting for him sitting on the main room.

“Risotto, how-” Prosciutto it's the first to talk when he sees his capo, but when he sees their partners body on his arms he just frozes on his place.

Everyone is quiet, Risotto looks at everyone with his same expression as always, even if his glare is almost blank.

“(Name) has died on their mission.” he just says, Pesci is almost on tears and everyone else is frozen. “We have to bury them and finish what they didn't.”

“Are you alright, capo?” Formaggio asks, with a worried look.

“Don't worry about me.”

He is devastated inside, but he has to be a comfort, to be strong for his teammates, if he trembles, everyone and everything will crash down.

He probably won't have any partner in a future, he doesn't want to experiment another loss.

He also becomes a more serious capo, he just wants all his teammates to be safe, but he thinks that now he'll fail to protect them too.

Prosciutto

He was with them on the mission, but he separed of them to search the enemy, both according to call the other if they encountered the enemy.

After a while he didn't find the enemy, so he was about to call his partner, but he saw a missing call of his partner. Damning himself for not have listened to it.

He ran to where his s/o was searching and then he saw them, laying on the floor with wounds all over their body and a piece of what seemed like a metal tube through their stomach.

He gulped, feeling his heart on his throat and his hands sweating, he was trembling as he approached his s/o body, looking so degraded, their soullesse eyes looking at nowhere.

“(Name)? (Name) please...” he called them while kneeling down to catch their head on his chest, taking their pulse and their breathing, but none of them where there. “Come on! Stand up, we have to get to a hospital!” he was terrified for once “STAND UP!” he yelled, but they didn't.

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes strongly to not cry, knowing that it was his fault for not have listened to his phone when they called him.

Breathing deep, he stood up, leaving their body there and walking away to calm himself before calling Risotto to let him know that they have died.

“I'm sorry, Prosciu-”

“You don't have to.” he interrumpts his capo. “Come to get them, I have to finish the mission.”

He swallows his tears to find the person who killed his love and make them pay, for his pride and his lover's pride.

He runs to find their killer and when he finds them he also kills them, finding himself crying when he has finished.

“We finished the mission.” he whispers to the sky, as if they were going to hear him.

When he finally stops crying he gets to the base covered in blood, of the enemy and of his partner, Pesci is the one to approach him and asks him if he's okay.

Prosciutto keeps as his normal self, but know is more protective over Pesci, he needs to protect him like he didn't with his partner

Doesn't allow himself to cry anymore, he has to be strong, and he will.

Also, he will feel kinda afraid to be on a relationship again.

Pesci

He and his partner where on a building, both fighting on different places of the building to different enemies. He managed to kill his enemy, but then he heard an screaming from some place of the building.

He ran through the floors, searching for his s/o's enemy, thinking that the enemy was the one who screamed in pain and feeling really proud of himself and his partner.

He arrived to the first floor, where he stopped when he saw a blood river peeking from one of the rooms.

“(Name)? I have killed one of them! Do you need help with the other?” he entered to the room, happy to help his love, but he fell to his knees when he encountered his partner bleeding out on the floor with a big injury on their stomach and both of their legs torn.

“P-please, wake up, you have to... Don't leave me.” he cried while crawling to his s/o, feeling his heart ache on his chest.

He caught them on his arms, hugging them not caring of getting blood on himself. Pesci sobbed on their dead body, feeling useless and devastated, he should have been with them, maybe like that they wouldn't have died.

When he feels a little better, at least to talk properly, he calls Prosciutto, informing of the situation. Prosciutto goes to the place he is with the capo, Risotto will take care of the body while Prosciutto goes with him to find the other enemy.

Prosciutto will be a little rude with Pesci just to make him swallow his sadness to finish the mission, but when they kill the enemy Prosciutto comforts him and lets him cry on his shoulder if he needs to.

Pesci will be really sad and will be afraid to have another partner because he thinks they'll die too and he won't be capable of protect them.

He'll “talk” to his partner looking up to the sky on the moments he feels really sad and needs comfort.

Formaggio

He was with his s/o on a mission, but after a slip, he lost them, but he thought they were okay without him so he focused on looking for the enemy.

He found it, yeah, but exactly when the enemy was kicking the death body of his partner, he was shocked, but reacted fast enough to use his stand with the enemy.

He made them small enough to crash their bones by stepping on his arms or legs, watching them scream in pain while half crying and cursing them for killing his s/o.

“You fucking bastard, you...” he kept stepping on their body even if they were already dead.

After calming himself he goes with the dead body of his s/o, kneeling beside them and picking their body.

“Come on, babe, please wake up. You can do it, I'm sure you can...” he'll take a bit to assume thst they're dead, but when he does he calls Risotto to inform that the mission is done, but their partner was dead.

He'll try to get over it as soon as possible and keep being the same Formaggio as always, but it's obvious that he's devastated inside.

In the end he'll accept that his partner is no longer there and will continue with his life, maybe even get other partner.

Ghiaccio

He was sent to look for his partner because they didn't answer the calls of Risotto nor inform about the mission.

He arrived the location on his car and he saw something laying on the ground, it was a person.

Ghiaccio got out of the car to see who was there, maybe it was the enemy, but then he recogniced thar the person was his s/o.

While screaming italian curses he approached his s/o to check their state, they had a lot of big wounds on their body who were still bleeding, their clothes torned and covered in blood and dust from the ground.

He'll inform the capo that the mission is a total failure between curses, but he kinda calms down to inform that his partner is dead.

He will left his s/o there to search for the enemy and kill them, he isn't angry or sad, he's shocked, he doesn't know how to feel.

After killing the enemy he'll return with his s/o, now that the capo has arrived to get rid of the body.

“Maybe this is hard for you, Ghiaccio.” he'll try to empathize with him.

“I... Don't know.” he will help to get rid of the body, but his mind is blank, he can't really assume that his partner is dead, at least for a while.

It's hard for him to have another partner, mostly because he doesn't think that love is something that he needs.

Will get over it after some time, but until then his fits of rage will be worse and more often.

He just needs some time, that's it.

Melone

He was near the location his partner was, because he was looking for them to help the mission, but they didn't answer his calls and that's why he got his motorcycle and drove to their location.

When he arrives he's really careful to try and not alert the enemy that someone else is there, will try to contact his partner again, but again, they don't answer.

By walking around he finally finds them, but not on the state he wanted, they were hanged on a wall with something through their chest.

He'll put them down to the ground and check them, they were bleeding out long time ago and they didn't have pulse or were breathing, so he confirmed they were dead.

Calmly he'll call the base to inform of the situation, he knows that those are things that happens when you work at a mafia, so he tries to remain as calm as possible.

Knowing that Risotto will arrive to get rid of the body, he'll try to get the mission finished, he doesn't want to seem insensitive, but he expected them to die.

When he has finished the mission he'll go back to the base, at this time Risotto had took care of his dead partner.

He'll remain as before the incident, but a little less eccentric, he seems like he's not affected by their dead but he just accepted it when he saw their body so it's not hard to him to get over it.

Maybe he'll get another partner, but it's not sure.

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ravenzeppeli · 16 days

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Chapter 26 - Stupid Pair of Jeans |Prosciutto x Reader Angst|

Warning: strong language, threats, physical abuse, spanking [detailed, brutal], nudity, blood. MA.

"You actually decided to wear this in public?" Prosciutto questioned as he entered your room without knocking, his face slightly red as he stared at your pants. "Why are you dressed improper? What's the matter with you?" He closed your bedroom door gently, locking it.

You looked over at him, raising your eyebrows. You were wearing a black T-shirt and skinny jeans. You saw no problems in what you are wearing. "What are you talking about? I'm wearing jeans and a T-shirt." What was his deal? After what happened between you and Prosciutto two days ago, you assumed he would be nicer to you. What was his deal? Risotto told you when you stayed with him yesterday that Prosciutto wasn't a mean man, that he was just too invested in his beliefs. His beliefs are ridiculous.

He shook his head, rushing over to you, grabbing your right wrist. "These jeans are tight. These fucking jeans are showing off your goddamn ass! I can tell your wearing thongs!"

You looked away, eyes widening. "Why would you point that out!? My underwear is not any of your concern!" You couldn't believe that he could tell that you were wearing thongs. Was it really that obvious? You were just wearing an old pair of jeans that you had.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" He questioned, voice suddenly going dark. "You know what? I've been very lenient due to your fingers still healing but I've had enough. Wearing these pants in public was a stupid fucking decision, and you're in trouble." He pulled you over to your bed, forcing you to bend over, his hand violently crashing into your ass. "I've been wanting to beat your ass for a very long time, you had this fucking coming girl."

You froze, knowing that fighting back in this situation was foolish. "I didn't know the jeans were that tight! I just wore them because they're an old pair I found!" You felt a dull sting on your right cheek, face heating up. Was he really about to spank you over this? You were actually starting to like him. You actually thought underneath all of his anger was a good man, but in reality, he would never be a good man.

"Well, you'll never wear them again now!" He snapped as he grabbed the back of your pants, ripping the fabric in half, the fabric tearing down the middle, exposing your ass. "Fuck these pants! You don't wear skinny jeans! Wear normal pants only, your ass is too nice for you to be flaunting around in skinny jeans!" He yelled at you, his hand crashing into your left cheek as hard as he could, a loud smack sound filling the air. You felt a huge welt the size of his hand forming with one hit, hot tears suddenly spilling from your eyes as your right hand balled into a tight fist.

Fuck, you had no idea that Prosciutto was this strong. He's never hit you this hard before. All this over an outfit? You had a feeling that it was something deeper than the outfit, but you actually felt fear, you didn't want to piss him off further.

His hand crashed against your right cheek with much more severity, a welt in the shape of his handprint forming on your cheek cheek as well, causing you to bite down on your lip even further, blood filling your mouth as more tears poured from your eyes, clouding your vision. You weren't a pussy, you wouldn't beg him to stop or cry and beg. Fuck that.

Another hard smack landed across the middle of your ass, your body going stiff as you tried to stop yourself from shaking or crying out in pain. You knew that that's what he wanted. He wanted you to cry and beg like a weak and pathetic little girl, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. You couldn't. Despite how badly it hurt, you would take it. You didn't deserve it.. did you?

"Got nothing to fucking say for yourself?" He questioned, and you suddenly heard the unbuckle of his belt. "Apologize and promise me that you'll never wear skinny jeans again. You're lucky I'm allowing you to wear fucking thongs. Apologize and I'll stop."

You weren't weak, you weren't a fucking pussy that they could beat into submission. You weren't going to fucking back down, you were going to say something that you would more than likely end up immediately regretting. "Fuck you, I don't like you anymore," you snapped at him, your tone filled with thick aggression, your fear hiding behind the pain that you felt. "I'm sorry I ever thought you were a good man!"

You heard the swish of his belt, the thick leather immediately crashing into your ass in five swift motions, your head immediately burying into your bedsheets. You stayed completely frozen, body stiff, and your ass was on fire. Fuck.. you.. you fucking hated Prosciutto, but you knew that saying the word hate was a foolish decision. So.. you were done speaking to him. For good.

"Good man!? Good man!?" He screamed at you, his belt smacking into your untouched sit spots with three swift licks. You closed your eyes, beginning to bite down on your lip again, another smack hitting the center of your blistering sore ass before you heard the belt drop. "I am a great man to you! I said to never wear improper things in public, I said to dress appropriately because I don't want random men looking at you! Because I love and care about you! I am protecting you, and me spanking you is good for you!"

You stiffened as you felt his hand rub your left ass cheek, a low sigh escaping his lips. You gave him nothing but silence, the confession of him loving you after beating you only making you furious. You wanted him away from you, and you wanted to get the fuck out of here.

"Theirs some pain pills in the kitchen," he muttered, his fingers tracing against your damaged ass. "This is all your fault. If you just would have apologized, then you wouldn't have gotten punished so severely. I hate having to punish you so harshly."

You refused to speak to him, staying completely silent, his hand squeezing your left ass cheek suddenly, causing a small, pained moan to escape your lips before you bit harshly back down on your lip.

"Fine," he muttered, removing his hand from your bottom. "Don't speak to me now, that's fine. As long as you learned your lesson." You felt him pull your thongs down, taking them fully off of you. "I'll go get the pills." As soon as you heard him leave, you quickly shot up, grabbing a pair of underwear from your drawer.

You weren't safe here with him. He could hurt you worse if you say something wrong. You always say the wrong thing. You needed to get out of here. Running away would just cause problems, and you had no family or friends. You were even allowed to go too. You suddenly remembered a conversation you had with Formaggio a few days ago, remembering his promise to cover for you or have your back. All you wanted was somewhere safe to go, somewhere away from Prosciutto, and you needed to go to someone who wouldn't cause drama with Prosciutto or hand you over to him. Formaggio said he would have your back with whatever you needed so you would test that.

You yanked the underwear on, grabbing a pair of loose jeans as you ran over to your door, closing and locking the door. As you pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on your shoes, you opened your window and climbed put. As soon as your feet hit the concrete floor, you ran as fast as you could, ignoring the stinging pain on your bottom.

-----

Yeah.. this might have been your most foolish idea, but you had limited options right now. You couldn't go to Risotto because he would automatically side with Prosciutto, and you had a feeling that Illuso would as well. Melone would want to beat the hell out of Prosciutto, and Pesci would be extremely upset. Ghiaccio would more than likely call Melone, so your only option was Formaggio.

All you needed was a place to stay away from Prosciutto. You tip-toed up Formaggio apartment stairs, not wanting to alarm Illuso and have him come out. You stood in front of his door, pulling out your key and unlocking his door. Slowly, you shoved the key into the hole, unlocking his apartment door and pushing in, immediately freezing when you saw both Formaggio and Illuso sitting on the couch, papers spread all over the coffee table.

"Hello," you said. In your defense, Formaggio gave you a key and said that his place was yours. And you didn't knock because you didn't want to trigger Illuso, but you saw that it didn't matter. He was already here. These two seemed to be pretty close. You wondered if they considered themselves as being close friends or simply just colleagues.

Formaggio grinned, looking over at you, his green eyes seeming to light up. "See, I told you Illuso, Y/N basically lives with me now. I got her to move in with me first." He paused, looking over at Illuso. "In your face."

Illuso looked you up and down, his eyes narrowing. "Who hurt you?" He questioned, causing Formaggio to stand up. "You seem different right now."

You shook your head, "it's nothing major. I just.. needed somewhere to possibly stay tonight." Your eyes landed on Formaggio. Should you tell them? You only came here because you had nowhere else to go. "And the next few nights." You had to hide this from Melone. What if he ends up hurting Prosciutto? You couldn't cause physical fights between the men. That wasn't right.

As you said that, Formaggios cell phone went off. You stepped forward, looking down at his phone on the coffee table to notice that it was Prosciutto calling him.

"What's that on the back of your pants?" Illuso questioned, voice dropping to a whisper as he poked the back of your left cheek. The sudden poke caused you to flinch, his hand immediately pulling away. He held his finger up, his finger stained with blood. "Formaggio.. answer the phone and make sure that Prosciutto doesn't fucking come over here. I have a feeling that he did something very fucking stupid that may cause me to break his nose."

#tw everything #tw abuse mention #tw abuse #tw verbal abuse #tw physical harm #tw physical violence #tw physical abuse #tw blood #tw mature #tw nude #tw spank #tw nudity #tw emotional abuse

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