andthatsthepiss-blog

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Abbacchio: I'm not a bottom.

Also Abbacchio, every time Bruno is near:

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twistingchains‌:

– Your head turns the whole way around, in the direction that you were struck. You brandish the scalpel from one of your pockets, as well as a pair of surgical scissors. 

Time to go a hunt hunt hunting. 

Look at this asshole, thinking he got the drop on them. Just a little flex, no big deal. He hopes he wiped that self-satisfied grin right off their fucking face. 

His spirits have picked up quite a bit as he heads back to Buccellati’s place.

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trickcard‌:

twistingchains‌:

crowism‌:

axeandfloof‌:

“UM! I THINK USING AN OBJECT WOULD GET THE POINT ACROSS JUST AS WELL!” 

She gently tries to urge Valdimar’s arms down. She shoots a pleading look to Akechi to fix this. 

When Valdemar picks Akira up and Akira reacts like a cat who was just lifted by the scruff of his neck, you briefly consider just letting it happen. It would be quite hilarious, and you kind of want to “yeet” him yourself after his version of the definition.

Haru seems to not dig the idea, though.

“Haha, please don’t yeet the cat, Valdemar.”

– “Very well.” 

You ultimately compromise by dropping the little cretin instead of outright throwing him. He lands on his feet, and while he seems annoyed he is unharmed. If Goro wants you to set him down gently and give him a little pat on the head he’ll have to actually pay you. 

“I have been sufficiently informed, so I’m leaving.” 

– You squint at Akechi for calling you a cat. Excuse you? Also, he’s one to talk. Still, you do land on your feet one and manage to avoid BARRELING into Haru who went to rescue you right away. Akechi, however, took a moment. You see how it is.

“…” 

“YEET!!”

A pebble goes rocketing towards the back of Valdemar’s head. Who could have possibly thrown it? The only suspect is casually rounding a nearby corner as if nothing happened.

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homicidalvirus‌:

zipperdaddy‌:

Crossing his legs, Bruno holds in a breathy chuckle at Fugo’s question, he’d always been so keen on conveying information and getting straight to a task, not one to make small talk, but he was doing his best and Bruno smiles appreciatively. 

“Thanks to you, quite well, I’ve had no trouble finding all the things I need and getting to know the area thanks to your tour and advise,” he takes a long sip from his cup, “While the amenities aren’t the highest of quality, the people who live around here are really quite lovely.”

In the short time he’s been here he’s already started forming connections with the local business owners as he knew it would be beneficial for his move into the organization. Though he would have done it regardless, it was just nice getting to know your local grocer. 

The soft look on Abbacchio’s face is a quick distraction, however, as Bruno watches him bite into the sticky pastry, obviously pleased. 

“Ah, it’s a little bakery near the castle, I think it’s called Bread, knead, and Broomsticks? There’s a young girl that works there that found me after I arrived and helped orient me. I was a bit on edge upon arriving, but she explained everything quite clearly…have you been?”

He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d found the little bakery as it was on a main stretch of road and the window displays were highly tempting. 

@homicidalvirus​

He nods once at Buccellati’s mention of the small girl’s bakery. Well, she supposes that it’s not hers, though it may as well be for all the people she’s managed to attract. He knows Abbacchio is fond of her. Fugo finds her nice enough as well, though he keeps his distance so as not to involve her in anything unsavory. It makes sense, though, that Buccellati would instantly strike up a conversation with her: both have an inherent charm, a certain warmth Fugo knows he lacks.

“Yes, I know of it. I haven’t been often because I don’t generally have much reason to go deeper into the city. There is a very nice library in the downtown area, though… As Kiki – I presume that’s the girl you spoke with – may have told you, we are somehow several years in the future, which is another bizarre twist. It means that there are many new books to read. Oh, and some interesting technological advances,” he adds, pulling out his smartphone. “You can access the internet and many other features.” He taps the app for twitter.com and quickly switches the view “news” because he doesn’t want Buccellati looking at his timeline. Monokuma’s Golf Retreat is the first headline. Slow news day, then. Where are there even golf courses around here?

@andthatsthepiss​

Ah. Figures that Buccellati had run into Kiki by now. Also that he already seems to be on good terms with her. That was just part of his talent, able to branch out and form connections with the people around him, seemingly at the drop of a hat. While it was mostly used to the advantage of the organization back home, it was just Buccellati’s nature to put the people around him at ease. Even though he was harboring unease at the moment, Abbacchio had no doubt that Buccellati would shine just as brightly here. 

He takes another bite of his pastry, making a mental note to stop by the bakery later. He’ll have to see where Kiki got this recipe from. In the meantime, he listens absently as Fugo shows off his phone to his superior. He’s honestly not surprised that Fugo grew so adept at using it. Kid soaks up information like a sponge, no wonder he’s glued to a tiny box that can just hook up to the internet like that. Abbacchio doesn’t really see the need for it outside of phone calls and text, but he also knows he’s a crotchety old asshole trapped in a 21 year old’s body. Give him another year and he’ll be shaking his cane at teenagers. It honestly sounds more appealing than it should. 

@zipperdaddy​

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Bruno shifts, interrupting the hazed lull that they had both sunk into. Abbacchio would protest, if it weren’t for the fact that he really did need to get washed up. He’s two days into caked over sweat and body odor. As charming as that is, he knows it’s going to bother him later. 

He sighs, letting himself bask in Bruno’s feather light kisses before forcing himself to sit up. He already feels a dull ache settle from his lower back and down into his hips. It’s familiar, and strangely enough, comfortable. It really as been too long. 

“A shower actually sounds amazing right now.”  He mumbles, wrapping an arm around his waist as he gingerly gets himself off of the bed. The prospect of Bruno dragging his hands through his hair sounds even better. 

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"I'm incredible? You're the one who did most of the work, darling." He smiles lazily, pressing in for another syrupy kiss.

"God, it's been way too long. You're even better than I remember."

He glides a finger along the curve of his back, drinking in Bruno's features, completely relaxed and at peace. A sight so rare to see, but never failed to bring Abbacchio a sense of ease. If only he could always bring that carefree smile to Bruno's face.

Abbacchio tilts his head to press a few gentle kisses along Bruno’s jaw, enjoying the low electric thrums still pulsing through his body.

“... Bout half ready to fall asleep again.”

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homicidalvirus‌:

zipperdaddy‌:

Leaning back in his seat, Bruno listens attentively, blue eyes focused on Fugo, unflinching. Again the subject of the boss comes up and he nearly brings his hand to his temple, resisting the motion to simply bring the croissant back to his mouth, chewing almost thoughtfully. The sooner they put in the call, the sooner he would know — at least to some small extent — what the boss knew, if anything at all. He tucks the swirling anxieties that come with that thought away quickly, shooting Abbacchio a grateful look when he suggests they finish their meal first.

 “I would appreciate making the call sooner as opposed to later,” he agrees stoically, “especially seeing as your current Capo seems less than savory, and waiting will only delay the inevitable…however, I also came here to thank you both, for choosing to support me here. I…I’m really very grateful.” He smiles soft and warm and sincere. He picks up one of the pastry boxes and passes it to Abbacchio, hand lingering perhaps a moment too long.

“So enough talk of work, at least until breakfast is over,” he takes a bite of his croissant.

@homicidalvirus​

Fugo nods in agreement with Buccellati, then frowns and leans back in his seat at the edict that work is a banned topic. He notices the warm glances between Buccellati and Abbacchio, of course. 

To be honest, quiet conversation is not his comfort zone. He prefers having a task and then moving towards completing said task. He tries to remember what it was like, back when it was just the three of them. Fugo had been looking forward to it, but now he misses Narancia and Mista’s talent for filling the silence with nonsense. He misses their loudness and their joy. 

Further, when it comes to Buccellati, he thinks most often of what information his leader might find useful. But he’ll respect Buccellati’s wishes and refrain from talking about work, though most of what he does relates to his various missions. 

He tries to recall certain phrases commonly used in small talk. He sips his cappuccino, then says lightly, “How are you settling in, Buccellati?” While he had just seen the man a few days ago, it still seems like a reasonable question.

@andthatsthepiss​

Bruno somehow manages to turn the conversation into something sentimental, thanking them both, words and smile filled with gentle sincerity that still manages to tug at his chest. Abbacchio suddenly feels too self-conscious to meet his gaze, intently staring at his cup. 

“Don’t be stupid,” He he grumbles. “Goes without saying that we’d be behind you.”

He murmurs a quiet thanks as he accepts the parcel from Buccellati, and his dark mood is significantly lightened once he opens it. Baklava. Here was a man after his own heart. He delicately fishes the pastry out with a napkin, but unable to completely to prevent crumbs when he bites into the treat. Damn, that’s good. The pastry is nice and flaky, and the honey is set in evenly. 

“Hey Buccellati, where’d you pick these up from?” He asks, brushing some crumbs from his shirt. 

@zipperdaddy​

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Abbacchio is fighting a quickly losing battle keeping it together as Bruno continues to mercilessly slam into him, the moans bleeding from his mouth filling all of his senses. In turn, strained moans and cries pour from him with each thrust, each heavy press against his sweet spot. He’s drowning in molten heat, and yet it somehow just keeps swelling him and pulling him in deeper.

And then Bruno begs for them to come together, making him shudder all over, his dick spasming in response. But thankfully, he doesn’t quite go over the edge yet. Not until he fulfills his lover’s wish, not until they’re writhing in bliss together.

Bruno brings him into another kiss, and Abbachio presses in without any real direction, just wanting to suck up as much heat from him as possible. His cries are strained and silent, but forceful nonetheless with each desperate thrust, every frantic pull against his cock, and every adoring moan spilling into his mouth. Everything builds into pure ecstasy, a fire spreading from his abdomen throughout his entire body. And then... And then-! 

He isn’t sure who came first between the two of them, all his brain registers is Bruno spasming inside, and everything going white hot, emitting a static cry from Abbacchio. He’s dimly aware of the ejaculations pouring onto Bruno’s hand, splattering onto his stomach, but that’s nothing compared to the crashing waves of his climax, the shuddering from Bruno’s entire body. He keeps his heels dug in his back, just wanting to hold him there as they ride along in their mind numbing bliss together. Every small twitch or movement inside sending aftershocks through his body. 

“Fuck...” He croaks, after finally trusting himself to speak, head flopping back on the pillows. “I... I really needed that.”

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A silent rasp rattles from him as Bruno’s hands squeeze around his cock once more, demanding him to beg, and it’s enough to force himself back from the edge, a goddamn miracle, considering what a writhing, burning mess his body is in. But it’s easier to keep himself focused as swollen lips envelop his own, concentrating on dragging his tongue along with the other. The surge in his stomach ebbs, but only slightly, allowing him to ride the fervid waves of Bruno grinding into him, the molten bliss of being entirely filled by him until there’s nothing left inside him. 

But with Bruno digging inside so mercilessly, it’s only a short while until that tide swells again, the coiling in his stomach twisting until it feels like he’s about to burst. He can feel Bruno approaching the edge too, feels him swelling inside and ripping Abbacchio further apart. A jagged whine escapes him, hands fumbling to cup his face, stare greedily into the same blown out, dark expression that mirrors his own. He’s so beautiful, face flushed crimson, all of his composure destroyed, leaving behind a hungry want and desperation. An expression that’s for him, and him alone. And still, he wants more, more. 

“Please...” His voice cracking and straining. “Please, oh god, Bruno. Cum for me, cum in me, please please please! I wanna cum with you, I want all of it, fucking-!” The words dribble from his lips, slurring into a mess of senseless noises, everything else burning away at the desperate surge of climax about to crash down on him in mere seconds. 

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Everything dissolves away into pure sensation for Abbacchio. The slick sweat coating both of them, the stale musk from yesterday’s lovemaking being renewed fresh, the slapping sound that echoes with each thrust, the desprate moans pouring from the man above him.... But most of all is the burning that tears at his walls, coursing through him and pooling in his gut, shooting to his cock, melting him from the inside out. 

His nails dig into Bruno’s back, the only thing even remotely holding him together, crescent marks sure to bloom a lovely red later. So good, this is so good! He may or may not be moaning those words aloud as he’s fucked into a state of mindless, dizzying pleasure. 

There’s a pause the sound of shifting, and another thrust that jolts another choked cry from him. Bruno’s slamming into him without mercy now, torturing that spot that makes him absolute putty. To make matters worse, a hand grips his cock, a sharp molten jolt coursing through it, earning what would be a deafening cry had his voice not been shot. His legs hook around him, heels digging into his lower back as Bruno continues to completely destroy him. 

His voice is like a radio signal just out of range, scratched and muffled with small peaks of voice cracking past his vocal chords, fighting to ring out for Bruno. To make him completely break apart. 

“Dai-! Di Piu, di piu!” He chokes out, shuddering around every inch of his partner. 

He can feel himself getting close, the burning tightness in his stomach rapidly building, but god, I doesn’t want this to end. He holds back, moaning and crying against Bruno, trying to keep it together with the fraying strand he has left.

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Even if it hadn’t been so goddamn long since the last time, Abbacchio seriously doubts that he could suppress the moan that escapes from his throat as finally, Bruno pushes himself inside him. He can feel his inner walls shudder, clenching and un-clenching, all the while sucking that wonderful dick in deeper. He can barely even keep up with their kiss, his breath short stuttering. It’s all he can do to just enjoy the feeling of being stuffed full of Bruno, being as close to him as humanly possible. It’s so dizzingly wonderful, he can’t even imagine feeling any better than he does right now. 

And then Bruno thrusts into him.

It’s like a bolt of electricity shooting through him, and he cries out once more, hands scrambling for purchase along his lover’s back, already slick with sweat. He buries his face in his shoulders, shivering all the more at those sweet words in his ear. His brain is so blitzed out, he can’t formulate a proper response. Only a single plea escapes his lips in a whine. 

“More...” 

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A sandpaper whine escapes him in response to Bruno’s quiet placations, practically squirming as he feels another finger push its way inside. It’s both amazing and torturous, feeling himself being pushed apart, knowing just what’s waiting around the corner. It’s been so long, being without his touch, his heat, the thought of waiting even mere seconds is almost too much to bear. And the ghosting hands teasing around his cock isn’t helping his fraying sanity, either. 

And all at once, Bruno’s fingers are gone, leaving him twitching and empty. But the original dismay at this sensation is quickly crushed between the knowledge of what that means. He props himself on his shoulder, hungrily eyeing his lover down as he takes mercifully short time and stripping himself down. And god, Abbacchio is so easy. Just the sight of Bruno’s cock rock hard and straining in the open air pulls another quiet moan from his lips. He’s more than fucking happy to comply with Bruno’s request, all but scrambling to get his hands around that glorious cock that is going to rip him to pieces. 

He showers it with sloppy kisses up from his base, without the usual finesse he takes with it. Lust hazed eyes flicker up towards Bruno’s, lovingly suckling along a vein as he drags his thumb along the head. If he wasn’t so horny out of his damn mind, he might have slid the condom on with more care, take his sweet time to get back at Bruno with all of that toying around. But he’s too desperate for him to do much more than tear the wrapper open and shakily slide it down along his length, dragging his lips and tongue along with each inch wrapping around. 

Once it’s properly set, he gives Bruno a few feverish strokes before returning his gaze back to the other. 

“Bruno.” He says, voice breathy and trembly. “Fuck me.”

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A gasp escapes him as he feels a cool finger press inside him. His fingers bunch into Bruno’s jacket as he can feel him slowly entering him, spreading him apart, knob by knob. A small whimper almost escapes him before it’s drowned out by Bruno’s lips against his own. He sinks into the kiss, letting himself be carried away by the sensation pushing against him, slowly coaxing those inner muscles to relax, to spread apart for him. 

A second finger enters, and he shudders around Bruno, curling his whole body around him. His stomach twists and churns, begging for more, begging to be filled completely by him. It’s like his mind had taken a back seat, letting his body just simply react, ragged whines spilling past his lips. Even the scratching pain in his throat is now a distant afterthought, an afterthought compared to the chilled friction dragging inside him, and the desperate ache of his cock, growing more insistent by the second. 

He can’t even find the words to respond to Bruno’s loving encouragements, only letting out a quiet moan into their kiss. It quickly stutters out into a hoarse gasp as he feels a very deliberate push against that spot, and it shoots straight through his dick. He can actually feel it twitching against his stomach, a testament to his quickly crumbling composure. 

“Bruno...” He rasps as they finally break their kiss. As used and worn as his voice is, the desperation an want is as clear as those beautiful blue eyes admiring him. 

“Please... I need you. I need more.” 

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Bruno looks goddamn divine as their kiss breaks apart, face flushed and hair mussed, gazed hazed over and blissed out. A smug satisfaction fills him, knowing that it was him that was able to pull the steadfast, battle-hardened Buccellati apart at the seams like this. It almost makes him want to pull at him further, to make him writhe beneath him. 

But as tantalizing as that image is, it’s easily overshadowed by that smirk Bruno gives him once he’s regained a semblance of composure. Another day, perhaps, but this morning his only goal is to be filled by him and to choke out his name. 

Thankfully, the train seems to be back on the rails as Bruno dips his hand between Abbacchio’s legs, after making a spectacle of lubing it up first, the absolute fop.

He sucks in a quick breath as he feels a familiar cold touch against his entrance, causing him to instinctively clench up. It’s really hard to keep his voice, or rasp, rather, to himself as Bruno massages around him in small teasing circles, the chill quickly turning to a sharp ache shooting through his dick. God, he shouldn’t be this close to begging this early, but Bruno rescues him with that smile and one whispered word. 

... Ok, never mind he’s gonna die. 

He swallows once and fervently nods, enthusiastic enough that he’s afraid he’ll give himself whiplash. 

“Please...” He rasps. 

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Bruno’s voice drops to a velvet purr as he attempts to tease him and get him even more riled up. Well, joke’s on you, asshole, Abbacchio was already there. Bruno does that thing where he daintily tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, and that was always enough to make him go fucking crazy. Score one for the guy who’s hopelessly attracted to even the most inane shit his boyfriend does. Doesn’t even need dirty talk to get in the mood. Real victory right there. 

He feels the smooth drag of the other’s tongue on his cock, and he can’t hold back the low, reedy groan that escapes him. After his cock spent so long aching and begging for attention, even the smallest touch causes a burning sense of relief to jolt through him and pool into his stomach. His hand reaches and lightly grips into Bruno’s hair as he lets himself be carried away into the heat of Bruno’s mouth, as light as his touch is. 

Bruno urges him onto the pillows, and he enthusiastically complies, shivering at his words, as stupid as they probably would sound if he weren’t so desperately horny. Before he’s good and settled, he grabs the back of Bruno’s neck whenever he’s close enough and pulls him into a hungry, deep kiss, tongue dragging along his as he urges their hips together. God, he just wants all of him. He wants him inside, to tear him apart, leaving him a shivering mess, to fall to pieces under his touch. 

These thoughts only urge himself deeper into the kiss, actually fucking groaning, before reluctantly drawing back for air, admiring the thin string of saliva that still connects their lips. 

“Love you...” He whispers, tilting his head to kiss along his cheek, fingers massaging his scalp. 

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homicidalvirus‌:

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Fugo had not slept all that much before the mission, and after the events which transpired, he’s admittedly exhausted. One of the nurses, a small boyish thing, had come by a while ago to tell him that visiting hours were over and shouldn’t he maybe go home and get some rest? Fugo had stepped towards him, fist raised, eyes wild. He wasn’t leaving. He wouldn’t leave. 

The nurse opened his mouth as if to say something, but he scurried away as Fugo blinked back tears. 

He paces at Abbacchio’s bedside, staring at the cords and the IV hooked up to the man’s arm. It smells like antiseptic. 

Abbacchio shouldn’t be alive, but he is. Because of this, Fugo will not allow this second chance to go to waste. He doesn’t believe in fate, leaving such irrationalities to Mista, but at the same time, he feels as though he’s defied something. 

Abbacchio is still and pale in his bed.

Part of him wonders if he should leave. It’s his fault, after all, that Abbacchio is here. He knows, he knows he should keep to himself, that he shouldn’t get close to people because he is violence and he will hurt everyone he cares about. But he is selfish, in his desire to live despite what he is, and in his longing to keep loneliness at bay just a while longer. 

His eyes study Abbacchio now, not truly believing the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He thinks he sees Abbacchio stir.

Why is he waiting? What can he even say? 

But he stays, and he waits. 

It feels like an unbelievably heavy weight is pressing down on him from all sides, keeping him firmly underneath the binds of sleep. But slowly, sounds, muffled as they are, begin to leak to his consciousness. A low electronic hum, the agitated click of footsteps. But along with this comes the dull burning that creeps into every cell of his body. And he can’t even move, much less do something about it.  Everything feels so constricting, making even the smallest twitch near impossible. But still, he struggles to do so anyway. First he manages a twitch of a finger, then he moves his head to the side. After what feels like an eternity, he finally manages to crack his eyes open. 

And then immediately shuts them, because fuck, that light is disgustingly bright. A grumbled curse escapes him, which again leads to immediate regret, and a sharp knifelike sting carving down his throat. What the hell happened?

His head lolls to the side, so at the very least that light isn’t boring right into his skull and attempts to open his eyes again. His head is still pounding, but he still registers those footsteps again, approaching rapidly. A blur of green enters his peripheral, and soon, he’s staring right into the frantic eyes of Pannacotta Fugo. 

There’s a spell of dazed confusion, and then his memories piece himself together. The mission, Holts, Purple Haze, and then... 

He survived. How the fuck did he survive? And what happened to Arnold? And where was he? All of the questions bubble at the back of his throat, but all he can manage a pained wheeze of “What?”

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Bruno dives in for another kiss, deep and all enveloping. A scratching whine escapes him as his arms lock around his shoulders, completely submerging himself into the surging warmth that courses through his his body, twisting and balling in his stomach. It ends much too quickly, but Bruno’s words, low and full of want, sends another shiver through him. Those beautiful eyes of his stare down hungrily, like he’s barely holding himself back from tearing him apart. 

God.

He cranes his head back, just letting Bruno trail down his body, leaving small loving marks as he goes. Being completely covered and owned by him. Just the thought sends a sharp bolt through him, leaving him breathless and craving more. 

He props himself on his shoulders, just to get a proper look at the beautiful man between his legs, hair already splayed and messy, gently kissing along his inner thigh. God, he’s gorgeous. 

“You look really good down there.” His lips curl into a smirk, although it’s a bit disappointing, he had intended to be sultry, but his fucked up voice sounds more like a creepy old man on his deathbed. It still doesn’t hurt to try, though. 

“It’s been a while. Wanna remind me what you can do?”