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#giorno giovanna x reader
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JJBA men thinking of you while masturbating
NSFW / Minors don't interact / 18+
Characters: Jotaro Kujo / Bruno Bucciaratti / Josuke Higashikata / Rohan Kishibe / Giorno Giovanna x female reader
Warnings: male masturbation, fantasies about sex (blowjobs, penetrative sex), slight exhibitionism, voyeurism (Josuke’s part)
Notes: All underage characters aged up of course. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated <3
Jotaro Kujo
Jotaro is used to being the one pined over, the one admired, turning people’s heads, the constant touch of careful hands, being adored for his sheer height and width.
What he isn’t used to, however, is being the admirer.
Since he’s laid his eyes on you, he got to know the feeling. He didn’t even realize it at first. Of course, he wants to study with you, and naturally, he wants your opinion on the latest seminar paper he has written, certainly, he wants to help you with your work. You’re his fellow student, his friend.
But when Jotaro used his stand to stop the time for just a few seconds, to freeze the sweet smile on your face as you looked at him, eyes bright and glowing, to just observe you longer like this, he realized that maybe, you’re not just his friend. Maybe, you mean more to him.
And as he sits in the library now, unable to focus on his laptop screen in front of him, he turns his head to look at you. And he’s sure; you’re not just his friend.
He can see the subtle shadow under your eyes, the way your eyelids seem too heavy, and your disheveled hair. Something tears at his very heart when he gazes at you.
You turn your head, shooting him a tired, nonetheless, sweet smile.
“Could you look at this?” You ask him, pointing at your laptop.
Jotaro nods, scooting closer to you with his chair. 
The lack of proximity makes it hard for him to concentrate on the words before him, let alone your voice as you try to explain your work. He hums here and there, his eyes taking in the words, his brain not comprehending the meaning.
He can smell your scent, your subtle and sweet perfume. He feels your heat on his skin. Jotaro slightly turns his head. You’re so close, he can see every pore of your skin, your lashes, the distinct color of your eyes, and the gentle sweep of your nose. He swallows hard against the dryness of his mouth. 
You turn your head, slightly rising your eyebrows, your gaze locking with his. His gaze drops to your glistening lips, his desire for you flaring hot in his chest. His head dips forward automatically, every cell of his urging him to lock his lips with yours.
His chair nearly falls over as he stands up abruptly. 
“What are you doing?” You ask perplexed.
Jotaro ignores you. He can’t face you like this.
The library is almost vacant. He moves along the high shelves until his breathing has normalized a bit. 
He leans against one of the shelves, trying desperately to ignore the way his blood runs hotly through his veins, the way it rushes down his body. 
It’s palpable, the way he longs for you, the way he yearns to touch you. His half-hardened dick twitches in his pants at the thought of it.
He buries his face in his hands, embarrassed at his own weakness. Memories of you flood his mind; your shining lips, your bright eyes, your scent.
His head falls back against the books on the shelf, his hands dangling feebly on his side. Jotaro can’t seem to get ahold of himself. His mind is racing, he sees you, putting up your hair, exposing your slender neck, he sees you, sitting next to him, your short dress riding up your thighs. 
It seems like the rational part of his brain stopped functioning. He’s not even fully aware of what he’s doing, so caught up with thinking of you, until a little sigh drips from his lips. 
He looks down, seeing his dick straining noticeably against his pants, his hand palming him through his trousers. 
His face flushes hot, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. No one is around, he assures himself once more. 
It has no use stopping now. 
Hurriedly, he tugs down his pants and boxers. His cock springs free, right into his grip. He hisses at the drag of his palm along his dick. It feels so good. The slight possibility of getting caught only heightens his lust. 
He watches his fist drag along his length, taking in the bead of pre-cum dropping along his shaft, easing the glide of his hand. 
He thinks about your thighs again, how soft they would feel as he’d let his large hands smooth along them, and what he would find when you spread them for him. 
His head tips back against the shelf, his eyes fluttering shut as he slightly increases his pace. He imagines your glistening pussy, dripping for him. He’d sink his long, thick fingers into you, curling and scissoring them until he has you whimpering and whining, begging for him to finally fuck you.
Jotaro can practically see your expression; your doe-eyes peering at him, your lips parted, your body trembling. A low groan rips past his chest, his fist squeezing his cock just a little tighter.
He pictures you, sitting atop of him, your delicate hands pressing against his chest as you lower yourself on his dick, slowly taking him in, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he fills you up completely. He would watch your pretty tits bouncing with every move of yours, and the beautiful, lust-drunk expression on your face. 
His hips stutter forward into his fist as he imagines rutting into you, holding your hips so tightly as he fucks up into you. He can practically hear your moans, your sweet, whiny whimpers, and the way his skin slaps against yours. 
Jotaro increases the pace of his hand, concentrating on his sensitive tip, a strained gasp falling from his parted lips. 
He imagines you cumming, his name drops from your lips, drawn out into a delirious moan. He can almost feel it; the way your pussy would spasm around his throbbing dick, practically urging him to spill his seed into you. 
A string of curses leave his lips, his hips stuttering into his hand once more before he cums. He jerks through his orgasm, a spurt of cum dripping down his dick, onto his hand, with each hurried stroke. He thinks about rolling his hips into you, letting your pussy milk him dry as a mess of your slick and his cum runs down your thighs. 
He shallowly thrusts into his fist until he’s hissing from overstimulation. His heavy eyes flutter open, his heart racing in his heaving chest as his gaze drops.
A strained sigh drops from his lips as he takes in his messy hand holding his weeping length. Slowly, he comes back down to earth, realizing what he’s just done. 
His head snaps in the direction where you’re probably sitting, hopefully, still staring at your laptop screen. And Jotaro just stands here, a few meters away, his released emotions for you tainting his hand. 
Bruno Bucciaratti
It’s obvious that you’re new on the job. Bruno doesn’t notice this solely because he’s a regular at the restaurant and hasn’t seen you before. 
Rather, it is the way you fail to see the subtle signs the guests give you, asking for the check or mixing up orders one too many times.
You’re the new waitress. And until now you don’t do a great job. 
It’s obvious that you’re stressed, evident from the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead and the way your cheeks glow. A wave of sympathy washes over Bucciaratti as he watches you rush around the restaurant. And he feels something more, a little tug in his chest because you just look so unbelievably cute while doing that. 
He’s not even mad that he already had to wait so long for you to finally bring him his wine. Because when you do, he can look at you from up close, observing your delicate fingers place the wine glass on his table, watching the loose strands of hair hanging into your face. 
And when he thanks you, the smile you give him makes the minutes worth the wait. 
His eyes hang onto your body as he watches you retreat. He’s glad that his fellow gang members aren’t here right now because they surely would tease him for being a pervert or something. But he just can’t help himself, his eyes greedily glide along your silhouette. 
Bruno takes a sip of his wine, trying to cool down the hotness rushing through his body. 
He orders his second glass and he’s not sure if he just flatters himself, but he’s pretty sure that you pay particular attention to him. Or maybe he’s just deluding himself. 
When you walk towards him, his eyes cling to your waist and the way your trousers hug you so right. You look amazing; even when you’re stressed. 
He breathes in your scent when you lean closer to him, basking in the feeling of your warmth.
The clang of the glass rudely rips him out of his thoughts. 
Seems like you’re not only incredibly gorgeous but also incredibly clumsy. 
The wine leaks over the table, staining the white tablecloth red and spilling all over his pants. 
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” The panic in your voice is palpable. 
“Don’t worry,” he tries to soothe you. 
He watches your eyes nervously flickering over the mess you made before they lock with his.
You look at him with so much gratitude because he doesn’t make a big scene. His heart flutters in his chest.
You quickly take ahold of a napkin, dabbing it on his trousers, trying to let the fabric soak up the liquid. 
You’re so close, bending down, granting him an intimate look right on your cleavage. Bruno swallows hard, reluctantly averting his gaze. 
He can barely hear you muttering your apologies. He just tries to stay calm, to think of anything other than your hand smoothing along his thigh, rubbing over his stained trousers. 
The motion just makes a flood of sinful associations enter his mind. He can practically feel his face growing hot. 
Abruptly he gets up. You look at him startled.
“Sorry did I-“
“I’m just going to clean myself up, no worries really,” he adds, unable to bear the way you gaze at him.
The stain is big, bright red, clearly noticeable on his white trousers. The soap and water he applies have no use in helping it whatsoever. 
He doesn’t even care, his mind is somewhere else anyway. 
Bruno just can’t get over the way you looked up at him, the lack of proximity you two found yourself in, and the way you were practically kneeling in front of him. He can only think about you doing other things in that position.
A long sigh escapes his mouth. He surrenders, stopping to take care of his stain. His head falls against the closed bathroom door and he allows himself to let his desires take hold of his body and mind. 
His dick strains hard against his pants as he sees you in front of him again, kneeling, with those doe eyes peering up at him. 
He frees his cock from the confinement of his pants, wrapping his hand tightly around his girth. Bruno hisses quietly, dragging his hand along his throbbing length, imagining it is your hand wrapped around him instead. 
He visualizes your hand pumping into his swollen head, the way his cock would look so big in comparison. A low gasp drops from his lips as a bead of pre-cum drips down his shaft, easing the glide of his eager hand. 
His head tips back against the door, thinking about you kneeling in front of him, looking up at him as your delicate hand strokes his cock. 
The pace of his hurried hand increases, as he envisions you taking him into your mouth, softly sucking on his flushed tip, your eyes peering up at him obediently. He bites back a low whine.
He sees your beautiful face in front of him; your glowing face, your starry eyes, as you take all of him inside of your pretty mouth. His hands would thread through your hair, holding you, feeling the restriction of your tight throat. And then you would follow his guidance, bobbing your head just how he likes it.
Bruno groans quietly. “Just like that,” he mutters, pumping hurriedly into his swollen head. 
He can clearly see you in his mind, those unbelievable eyes staring up at him, tears spilling over as he ruts into the wet, soft heat of your mouth. His hips involuntarily rut forward into his fist. 
A low whine slips past his lips, which he has no control over. He practically feels your swollen lips wrapped around him.
His hips stutter forward into his hands, two, three times before he tips over the edge. His orgasm washes over him, his thighs tensing, breathing erratic. 
Bucciaratti jerks through his orgasm, panting hard, imagining his dick pulsing in your mouth, his cum landing on your awaiting tongue as you swallow everything that he gives you. 
Then he’d pull out, letting his hot spurts of cum land on your beautiful face, mixing in with your spit, dripping down your chin, your cheeks. He groans desperately, seeing your messy face, your lips parted, opening your mouth eagerly for him, glassy eyes staring up at him obediently as he paints your face white. 
His fist pumps into his swollen tip until he hisses from the overstimulation. Only then he slowly opens his eyes, taking in his soiled hand.
This mess may compete with the one you spilled on his table. 
Josuke Higashikata
Sometimes Josuke really has to wonder if you do it on purpose. Can you really be that unaware of your surroundings, this clueless?
It isn’t the first time he has watched you like this. Far from it actually. 
Since you’ve moved into the house right next to his, you made a habit of getting undressed, late in the evening or night, your light illuminating the room, leaving little room for imagination. 
You haven’t invested in any kind of curtains yet and your lucky neighbor hopes you never will.
It has kind of become a habit of his, watching you through his dark windows, careful that you don’t notice him. And you never do.
Josuke observes how you lose your sweater first, followed by the top you were wearing underneath. He sucks in a little breath when he notices that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. He can clearly see the outline of your bare breast, the way they softly jiggle as you throw the top somewhere.
Blood rushes down his body as his eyes greedily glide along your exposed upper body, your beautiful tits, your soft tummy, and your waist. He swallows against the dryness of his mouth, desperately hoping that one day he could be the one undressing you.
You open your jeans now, letting them plummet on the floor before stepping out of them. You bent over, picking them up to fold them away. 
Fortunately for him, this gives him a perfect view of your ass. He can see your pussy through your panties, squished between those perfect asscheeks. 
His heart beats violently against this ribcage, his blood running hot. He can feel it; the twitching of his hardened cock. 
What he would give to bend you over like this himself, to pull those panties to the side. Josuke pulls down his pants, freeing his throbbing cock, wrapping his hand around his girth, because now his favorite part of your little routine comes; the instant he replays in his mind day and night. 
You pull down your panties, carelessly tossing them on the floor, leaving your body completely bare. You observe your own reflection in the large mirror hanging on your wall. You let your fingers run through your hair, before they glide along your sides, your gaze following them, sliding along your body.  
Josuke strokes his dick, his hungry eyes gliding along your silhouette, leaving no part unseen. You’re enticing. He could watch you like this forever. 
But he can’t. You get your kimono, tieing it around your waist as you step out of the room, switching off the light. 
Josuke sighs. He closes his eyes, still seeing your body in front of him. 
He imagines his large hands gliding along your sides, feeling your soft skin under his, grabbing, kneading your flesh. He would cup your breasts, letting his thumbs circle your nipples until they harden under his touch. 
What he would give to gaze deep into your eyes, pressing kisses along your throat, further down, sucking your nipples, hearing your voice bleeding into a soft moan. 
His hand increases his pace as he imagines dropping to his knees, smoothing his palms along your hips, grabbing your ass. 
A low whine rips past his chest as he thinks about your pretty pussy, right in front of his face. 
He would worship you, his eager lips pressing feathery kisses onto your plush thighs before letting himself allow a taste of you. He just knows you would taste so good, letting his tongue glide along your folds, teasingly, before his tongue would draw tight circles on your sensitive clit. 
Josuke imagines you bending in front of him, facing your floor-length mirror, as he slowly sinks into your sloppy pussy. 
He would watch you, your reflection, the way your expression would change with each of his slow, deep thrusts, your face glowing as you watch yourself getting fucked by him. He knows you like to watch yourself. 
He hurriedly pumps into his swollen tip, a bead of pre-cum rolling down his length, easing the glide of his eager hand. 
Josuke can practically hear your voice, your whines, and the depraved sounds of pleasure, skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your pussy as you drip all over him. He would watch his large, slick cock split you open, again and again until he has your whole body trembling.
He imagines it's your pussy wrapped so tightly around his twitching cock, not his own hand, as he fucks into his fist. His hips involuntarily stutter forward into his hand before he tips over the edge.
He groans breathlessly, a string of curses leaving his lips as he jerks himself through his orgasm. His hot cum stains his hand, dripping down his shaft as he shallowly thrusts into his fist, riding out his high. He lets go of himself, panting as he comes down from his high. 
Josuke will be there the next evening as well, waiting for you to give him his show. 
Rohan Kishibe
Rohan observes you, he practically reads your face like a book - and this without the help of Heaven’s Door.
He hates you for your obvious expression. He really does. 
You skim through his latest proposal for his manga, your delicate hands turning page after page as his green eyes hang onto your every expression.
You're strict with him and honest. Most people would probably appreciate it if their manga editor possessed such qualities. Rohan doesn’t. He hates getting told what to do. He knows he’s good. Everyone knows this. Everyone should.
Only you don’t seem to, often having suggestions or comments. He pretends like these aren’t helpful. He doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction. 
Just like now, as you propose some suggestions, pointing out some inconsistencies in the story, he just listens, his eyes gazing into yours. 
“How very helpful of you, I can really count on you, my love,” he hums, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 
You bite back a smile, standing up from the seat behind your desk, and making your way to him. You stand behind him now, your hands resting on his shoulders. His muscle tense under your touch. You dip down, letting your hands glide along his chest, playfully so. 
Rohan feels your breath on his neck and your heat on his skin, his nose filling up with your scent. 
“Oh, you know me, always at your service,” you breathe into his ear before you retreat. 
He composes himself, hurriedly standing up as well, saying goodbye to you as usual. He sees a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. He fully knows, that you just enjoyed baffling him. And he can’t seem to have anything to say, that would imply that he wasn’t. 
The moment resurfaces in his mind throughout the remaining day. 
He doesn’t know why meeting you always aggravates him so much. But this time you really were too much.
Late at night, when he’s lying in his bed, he really can’t seem to shake the memory of him. It’s like he can still feel your hot breath on his neck, your soft, inviting voice. He practically feels your hands smoothing along his chest. 
Rohan desperately tries to ignore the way his dick twitches in his boxers. He has to tell himself that he doesn’t like you. Not one bit. Not at all. He tosses and turns, throwing his blanket away, and getting up to get himself some water.
It doesn’t help. He sits at the edge of his bed, looking down at his hardened cock showing through his boxers. 
Every minute he doesn’t do anything, his longing for pleasure, for release, seems to heighten until he’s unable to hold back anymore.
Rohan tugs down his boxers, letting his cock spring into his grip. The first, slow drag of his palm along his length elicits him a gasp of relief. He lowers his gaze, watching as he drags his fist up and down his cock. 
His mind is somewhere entirely else. 
He thinks about you. About your hands on his chest, about your scent, about your sweet, honeyed voice. 
He imagines you’re here in the room with him, that it was your hand that is dragging along his weeping length. 
Rohan envisions you kneeling in front of him, your eyes peering up at him curiously before you wrap your plush lips around him. You’d look so good with hollowed cheeks and obedient eyes, bobbing your head.
“Just like that,” he mumbles. His grip grew a little tighter with each pump of his hand.
He visualizes his hand threading through your hair, pushing you to take more of him. He yearns to see tears spill from your eyes, he wants you to gag on his cock. 
“Nothing to say now, huh?” He mumbles deliriously, lost in his fantasy.
He pretends it's your mouth and throat he’s fucking into, not his own hand. A breathless moan pulled from his chest, and another bead of pre-cum dripped down his cock to ease the glide of his hurried hand. 
He can feel his impending orgasm, the way the knot in his stomach is twisting tighter and tighter with each harsh stroke of his hand.
A desperate groan falls from his mouth when he imagines your glassy eyes peering up at him. He envisions slipping his cock out of your mouth, and how you would loll out your tongue for him.
“You want that? Want me to cum all over that pretty face of yours, huh?” His voice is breathless, strained. 
A low whine rips past his chest as he practically hears your whiny, desperate “Yes.”
He cums, a drawn-out moan of your name filling up the room, as his orgasm washes over him. His thighs tremble, his abdomen tensing as his hot cum paints his hand white. 
He visualizes his spurts of cum landing on your tongue, dripping down your chin and lips, mixing in with your spit, imagining you swallowing, eagerly taking all that he gives you. 
“Good girl,” he breathes, his chest heaving with his heavy pants.
Slowly he comes back into reality as his cock softens in his hand. His dick falls heavy against his thigh, as he observes the mess he made. 
Rohan swallows, muttering to himself that he really does find you annoying. But he isn’t so sure if he can still believe this now. 
Giorno Giovanna
Giorno leans against the rough bark of the tall birch, his long legs spread on the grass. He’s letting his eye wander, observing people walking their dogs, kids playing tag, and friend groups sitting in a circle on the green grass, beer in hand.
It fulfills him with contentment, with a certain tranquility when he sees all these people that are so happy, so careless, seeming so innocent and pure. He often comes here, clearing his mind, forgetting about all his duties and stress. 
And as his gaze moves from one place to another he discovers you. As his eyes rest on you, he wonders how he could’ve been caught up in observing anything other. And now that he has seen you, how could he look away?
You’re sitting on a bench not far from him, a book in your delicate hands. Hair falls into your face, softly swaying in the breeze. He notices the corners of your eyes crinkling as you try to make out the sentences in the bright sunlight.
After a few minutes, it seems like you have given up, placing the book next to you on the bench. Your eyes fall close, soaking up the sun.
And Giorno just watches you; angling your face towards the sun, discarded book next to you, the soft breeze playing with your hair.  
He doesn’t know why he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. It calms him in a way that is hard to describe, to see you comfortable in your skin, with no trace of stress or worry painted on your face, falling into the moment, appreciating it. It touches something deep within himself. 
Giorno is mostly surrounded by hard, harsh people. Men that have killed, and will do so again. 
It’s refreshing to look at you, it makes his skin feel warmer than the sun shining upon it.
He doesn’t know how to approach you, he’s not even sure if he should. He picks up a blade of grass, letting his stand metamorphose it into a butterfly. 
The little insect reels through the air, heading for you. 
You don’t notice it until it lands on the tip of your nose. Your eyes open languidly. They grow wider as they take in the butterfly right before them.
It takes off again, fluttering a few centimeters in front of your face. Giorno watches you laugh out of surprise, your smile shining brighter than the afternoon sun.
You stretch out your hand, the butterfly landing on your finger, sitting still. The wonder in your eyes as you observe it from up close makes his heart flutter, just like the butterfly’s wings. He’s entranced, his eyes hanging onto you until you go.
And when he is back in his home, after talking to some of his subordinates, after feeling the stress and his responsibility resting on his shoulders anew he wishes he could see you. To let his gaze travel along your features, to feel this tenderness washing over himself again. 
He leans back in his chair behind his desk, picturing you. How your eyes widened in surprise upon gazing at the butterfly, how your delicate hand waved through the air, how your skin glowed in the sun. 
Giorno can’t help wondering how soft your skin would feel against his lips, imagining kissing your shut eyes, pressing feathery kisses onto every centimeter of your face until his ears pick up your soft giggles. He would pull away, his nose nearly touching yours, his hands cradling your cheeks, watching the creases at the corner of your eyes deepening. 
This is harmless. This is okay. 
But his mind can’t stop running. He can’t stop his thoughts from wandering, from imagining himself pressing tender kisses along your jaw, your throat, along your breasts. 
He thinks about taking your nipple into his mouth, softly sucking, noticing your breath deepening, his other hand kneading your other breast.
Giorno gulps, his blood rushing down his body. He imagines moving further down, a trail of kisses along your waist, your stomach, along your thighs.
His breath hitches, feeling his dick straining against his pants. He wonders how your pussy would look, how sweet you would taste, as his tongue laps at your folds. 
His chest burns with desire, his cheeks hot as he just can’t shake these thoughts off.
Reluctantly, he gives in to his urges. He tugs down his pants and boxers, his hand wrapping around his hardened cock. 
His head rests against his chair. His eyes drifted shut, to visualize you more clearly. He sees you in front of him, your unbelievable eyes staring up at him, slightly widening as he sinks into your wet pussy, his cock being encompassed by your warm, tight walls. A sigh drops from his lips.
His thumb swipes across his slit, collecting the bead of pre-cum that has gathered there. Slowly, he starts to drag his hand along his length, pumping into his swollen tip, before repeating the gesture. With each pass, his grip grows a little bit tighter, and his fantasies a little dirtier. 
He imagines it's your pussy that is wrapped so tightly around his cock, not his own hand. He pictures your every expression, your eyes darkening, your cheeks burning, your plush lips dropping open, releasing sweet moans and whimpers. 
Giorno wants to see you tremble, wants to see you fall apart underneath him, because of him. He mimics the slow and deliberate thrust with his hand, before increasing his pace. A drawn out, breathless moan escapes his parted lips.
He yearns to see the surprised look in your eyes, the little frown on your face, as he throws your legs over his shoulders, thrusting even deeper into you. 
He would fuck you until you quiver underneath him, until your voice is hoarse until you can’t see straight, until you’re a mess, gushing all over his cock. He would fuck you until you’re satisfied. 
Only then he’ll let himself succumb. A groan rips past his heaving chest as he imagines your pussy clenching down on him greedily, urging him to spill every drop of his hot cum deep within you. 
With that thought in his mind, with him envisioning your sloppy pussy fluttering around his dick, he cums. A groan drops from his lips, his fist squeezing a little tighter, concentrating on his swollen tip as his orgasm washes over him.
He envisions himself buried deep inside of you, his cock throbbing with each rope of hot cum he fills you up with.
Shallowly he rides out his high, his body twitching helplessly as his ropes of creamy cum drip down his thick shaft and onto his hand, imagining your pussy milking him dry.
He’s breathless, his chest heaving with pants, as he lets go of himself. His gaze drops onto his soiled hand. 
Giorno wonders how such a sweet and tender thing as you could lead him to do such lascivious things. 
©sweetdreamlandstuff
4K notes · View notes
pomupom · 5 months
Text
A PUSSY PLAY — NNN (MINORS DNI)
escort squad / bucciarati's gang.
CONTENTS ; explicit content, degradation / praise, semi-public, cumming untouched, oral (f. & m. receiving), 1 clit slap, pet names, (attempted) teasing. NOT PROOFREAD!
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the quickest to fold of the group is LEONE, mainly for his dismissal of the challenge — why would he participate in such childish nonsense? others being celibate for a month isn't a reason for him to keep his hands off of you, nor is it one for you to be kept off your knees. he's a dirty man, but you've always known this – wanting to test the limits and boundaries with you, he's gotten you with your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock while mista's trying to convince them to go without nutting for an entire month. you never know how he keeps himself so composed, knowing that when he's on the giving end, he's a ruined mess of lipstick and disheveled hair (both from you, but still). there's an ever present lust in his purple and yellow heterochromic eyes, the partial mix swirling together, hypnotizing you to keep your gaze on him even when's he looking at his colleagues — if it weren't for all the bickering, you're positive the sounds of your gags would be filling the room instead. for once your glad leone is all covered up, long skirt covering you almost fully, strong thighs sitting heavy on your shoulders, but they're all you have to keep steady. ordered to stop as they all make their way from the room, it doesn't take long for the tablecloth to be flipped upward, abbacchio's hand finding it's way in your hair as your pressed snugly against his pelvis. your make-up is running, mascara drops blending in with the deep violet fabric, how much he'd give to see you with that look all the time. salty taste fills your mouth not far after, a deep groan exhaling as if it's been held — leone's just not sure you could survive without having cum dumped into your mouth for an entire month.
another who is unwilling to keep himself seperated from you for an entire month, GIORNO is too obsessed with you to participate in some silly month — he's the don of passione, a grown man, why would he still be entertaining his friends by saying he'll join in with them? though, more than his own, giorno chases after your pleasure everytime you two have a silent, alone moment. slotting himself beneath you, your legs rest against shoulders, acting as the only thing to keep you up, the sounds he makes against your pussy are pornographic. he slurps everything you leak like a starving man, tongue exploring every crevice between your thighs though he's come to know it all — he's not ashamed to admit that every squeeze and pull of his hair has his cock twitching, precum showing through his boxers, pants having been long discarded. there's not a sight nor experience giorno has had that's been able to beat this – to beat you. he's taken you nearly everywhere, but cloud nine will always be your favorite. the sight of him between your legs is almost enough for an orgasm without work, but being the one in-between is more than enough for his.
BRUNO agrees only in the moment to watch how your face drops, he can't help but want to give you a bit of torture — he can't always be nice to you, even if he doesn't plan to actually stick to the his word. it's a double-edged sword trying to play along, having still agreed to continue pleasuring you, you can feel his frustration — bruno's fingers dig deeper into your thighs, his short nails still biting hard into your flesh, it takes everything in him to not move his hips along to match the rhythm of yours against his face. guttural groans leave him with flick of his tongue, slowly transforming more and more into desperate whimpers as he tries to distract by burying his face deeper into your cunt – not a part of you is safe from him, each curve and edge getting groped while his cock is strained against his pants. bruno feels like such an idiot for agreeing to this, subjecting himself to torture instead of you, he's not sure how much he can withstand. it's not until you've reached your climax, legs trapping him between with your hand pushing his head further in by his ruined hair that bruno's realized he lost — there's a bit of embarrassment feeling how he's soiled his pants completely, white spurts having stained through underwear. not even a single touch and you've got him undone, your pleasure is his, after all.
finding himself in a weak moment, PANNACOTTA only loses because of his weakness to your temptation. gods, does it anger him for no reason, maybe he just wanted to prove he was better than everyone else — but you've just got to be his downfall, don't you? fugo knows he should always be on his toes with you running around, proving to have been a challenge already so early in the month. he can't even call what he had a ‘start’ to mista's proposition. fugo feels so dirty like this with you, but he can't help how good you look tonight, how touchy you were – eyes practically begging him. you're such a fucking tease, you know that? a pathetic, needy mess for him when he's not even done anything. you're sat on his lap in the corner of some almost empty, dimly lit room, grinding yourself against him like your life depends on it. not a single praise of how good it feels to have you almost bare against him is given, only the worst of insults for being a two-faced whore — acting like you're so innocent when you've got your hand palming over his crotch, newly done nails toying with his waistband. he really should just have left to another table, he should be with giorno like he's supposed to be, but you've got him wrapped around your finger and you know it all too well. no matter the game he talks, nor vile filth that's communicated in a whispered yell, you're the foremost thought in his mind — especially in times like this.
trying to stick to his word this time around, GUIDO is surprisingly serious and snappy when he tells you to keep your touching to a minimum (not that you listen, your hands just love holding every part of him). mista swears that the only reason he's lost is cause your begging face is just too much for him — he doesn't wanna leave his sweet girl all needy and empty, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't satisfy your desires and fill your cunt? guido wallows in carnal embarrassment later, but in the moment? you'd think mista was trying to absolutely ruin you – just a little pleading with him, and you've got his fingers bruising their imprint on your hips, his own meeting your ass while you're crying underneath him. there's nothing he loves more than you, and his mind isn't clear enough for him to think about the challenge he set for himself - and everyone else. you've got such a pretty voice, singing out his name and matching every sound of his own, the two of you have let everyone know of the failure.
maybe taking what mista said a bit too seriously, NARANCIA doesn't let himself give in until he's realized that, technically, he's beaten everyone else. he wastes no time bragging about it, mainly to your ears — now that he's won, you two can have as much fun as you please. almost immediately, narancia's on you, hands gripping at your ass the second he's kicked the door shut, the lock forgotten as he topples over you on the bed. it doesn't take more than a minute for his blade to cut through your clothes, protests silenced by his tongue, fingers gliding along your slick cunt, a light slap given to your clit that earns him a gasp to swallow. he almost feels guilty for having agreed to leave you all high and dry just to seem ‘cool’, narancia's gotta make it up to you, doesn't he? it's almost lethal how good he's able to make you feel, knowing your insides and all the right places to grab and kiss outside, he never fails to reach that one lil spot that just drives you wild. prepared to wear those scratches of yours like a new tattoo, he won't continue unless you've gotten your hands clinging to his shoulders and your ankles crossed at his waist. tell him how good he's doing, won't you? he wants to hear just how amazing narancia ghirga is in bed.
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dollwritesarchive · 1 year
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𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 — 𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, fiancé!giorno, don!giorno, fingering ( f!receiving ), begging, edging ( him ), virgin!needy!reader, all characters featured are 18+ 
𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ I AM REWATCHING GOLDEN WIND SO ITS THE PERFECT TIME TO OBSESS OVER GIORNO AGAIN. posted for my hoe for the holidaze event.  do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3
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Giorno Giovanna was a difficult man to be betrothed to. 
not because he was calloused or paid no attention to you— it was actually the opposite. your fiancé doted relentlessly on you, always allowing you to sit in his office with him while he worked ( even during meetings in which his men would give you uncertain looks as they reported sensitive information to him ), and he’d always reach for your hand, hold it on your knee and allow his thumb to stroke the delicate skin as he spoke. he also loved to kiss you, and he would do so whenever he had a moment to do so. even if there was an emergency that required his immediate attention within the ranks; on his way out the door, he would always take the time to tilt your chin up so that he could trace your couplet with his own. 
and it was this amount of dizzying affection that made it so impossible to keep yourself from lusting after him. 
but Giorno was, first and foremost, one of the most chivalrous men you’d ever met. even with his Gangster status, he was always trying to do the right thing when it came to his future with you. and, unfortunately, one of his intentions had always been to keep your pure and virtuous until the wedding, so as not to shame your family. 
“I don’t want you to regret it.” he’d whispered to you once in the dark as he held you. you’d begged him to just take you already— traditions be damned. he wasn’t having any of it. “I want you to be ready to give yourself to me, and not just physically.” he’d kissed your temple when you grumbled about being ready, and chuckled softly. “Wait it out. If not for yourself, be good for me. I want to love you for the first time knowing you’re mine and I’m yours.” 
but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to satisfy your urges any other way he possibly could. 
“Please, don’t stop.” 
you were whimpering, back arching against the door he had you pinned to. Giorno had one hand pressed into the door behind your head to keep you from hitting it when you squirmed, and the other was moving under your skirt. with the long, lithe fingers you’d come to know so damn well, he could make you tremble and beg until you wanted to collapse on the floor in a heap of pathetic sobs. the first two curled inside, the svelte tips massaging a cluster of hypersensitive nerves that had you rolling your head on your shoulders, pressing it back against the back of his hand, and moaning. 
“D—Don Giovanna—“ 
but he frowns, pressing his forehead to yours. “My name,” he murmurs, allowing his lips to dance only inches from yours as he pumps his fingers deeper. you could feel the chill of metal as his rings, scattered on his remaining digits, press against your netherlips— he’d been considerate enough to take the two off of his fingers he intended to use on you, and they lay forgotten on the large, mahogany desk a few feet away. your hands were gripping his shoulders, but they slid over the expanse of his chest as it rises and falls with heavy breathing. you’d already untangled his braid, and his golden tresses hung around his face and shoulders like curtains, billowing as your ragged breath hits the strands. his shirt was also open, and you use the rare opportunity to dig your nails into the pads of muscles in his chest. “Say my name.” they were unyielding, but you already knew that. you could feel just how solid he was underneath his clothes when he pulled you in for a loving kiss or hugged you close at night. 
“Giorno…” you mewl, rocking your hips forward to meet his skillful pumping. “Giorno!” 
he moans, too. and it’s such a beautiful sound. 
pressing his body closer to yours, he nuzzles his face in your neck to kiss and suck all over, finding your sweetest spots in mere seconds, while his pace between your thighs picked up. you could tell he was enjoying it, too, breathing heavily on your skin before latching on to leave his signature in a love bite that would be easily covered by your collar. 
“Please— let me touch you, too…” you were hesitant, because you could feel him grinding a firm lump in his pants against your thigh, trying to relieve the pressure he felt, but you’d never been able to get your hands on it. but, you allow your hands to fall to his belt, the very tips of your fingernails dipping underneath to tease the faint trail of blonde hair that no doubt led to your desire. “Giorno, I want to feel you…” 
“Not yet,” he whispered, and you gripped his belt, frowning. he must’ve felt you inhale, ready to protest, because he pulls away from your neck to smother your mouth in fierce kisses, curling and twisting his fingers against your fluttering walls until you’re whining and pliable. “I’m dying to be inside you…” he moans into your mouth, pressing his body against yours. you could feel the tent jabbing at his zipper and you know it must be just hardly keeping his erection contained. it must be painful. “I want to feel you, too, amorina,” he crooned, breathless, using your very favorite pet name. “I’m starved for you. I’m just barely able to resist the urge to lay you on my desk. If I even feel your soft hands wrap around me, I’ll lose that battle.” 
your eyelids are heavy, flittering slowly, and you roll your hips to meet the palm of his hand. he was drawing you closer and closer to the edge, and you knew he was trying to distract you. “I want you to fuck me, Giorno.” you moaned, and you could feel every muscle he had go taut beneath his skin. the specter of a pinky blush was raising in his cheeks, olive eyes staring into yours. you take this opportunity to hitch one of your legs on to his hip, hooking your ankle against the small of his back to pull him closer. “I don’t want to wait anymore, please… please just give it to me!” 
Giorno’s mouth hung slack, his hips jutting forward as if instinctively trying to give in to your begging, and he presses your buttons from the inside with the pads of his fingers. your belly ties in knots and you swoon. “I can’t,” he whispered, breathless, and you squirm. you’re coming undone even as he refuses to give you what you really want. “I gave you my word when I put this ring on your finger,” his free hand slips from behind your head to reach between you and grasp your hand, pulling it up to his mouth so that he could kiss the jewel in the center, “that I would do… everything… I could to take care of you. Didn’t I?” 
you nod, moaning his name under your breath like a broken mantra. you wanted to argue, and tell him that you would be better taken care of if he would just strip you down and fuck you right here, right now, but you knew that wasn’t the case. because Giorno didn’t just mean physically. when he promised to take care of you, he meant to keep you safe, fed, spoiled. he wanted to keep your reputation as pristine as it was before you were engaged to the Passione Boss. 
“I intend to keep my promise.” he moans, his golden brows furrowed, as if it also pains him to say it. but Giorno’s resolve is strong, and you know that he means it. he kisses the ring again, and this time, your finger, too. 
“Damn you for being so— responsible—“ you whimper. you tried to poke your bottom lip out into a childish pout, but his digits were working too skillfully on your nerves, pulling the orgasm out of you, and you allow your mouth to hang open so you can cry for him freely. 
he chortles a bit, fondly, and kisses you again to muffle your sounds as you get loud. no doubt, his guards with their heads just on the other side of the door was getting an earful. hell, maybe even Mista would be red faced and unable to look you in the eyes when he escorted you to the car that would take you home to wait for your husband-to-be’s return. his hand slows in tandem with your aftershocks once you’ve cum, allowing you to ride his palm at your speed until you’ve come to a shivering, panting stop. “I’ll give you every ounce of pleasure that I can with my fingers until you’re officially my wife. As often as you’d like.” he husks, slowly breaking the heated kiss to pepper your forehead with a litter of slower, softer pecks. “And, when the night finally comes that I can give every part of myself to you, I promise to worship your body with my mouth, my hands, and my cock until you can’t possibly keep your eyes open or your legs from trembling. Amorina, I promise that, as your husband, I’ll not stop until we’re both in tears.” 
reluctantly, you allow your leg to drop to the floor, but you nod, throwing both arms around his neck, and you lean in to kiss his jaw. “Giorno Giovanna,” you purr against his lips, turning your head to allow them to fit better against yours. “Is there no way to change your mind once it’s made up?” 
he smiles again, and shakes his head, both hands finding your waist to hold you steady so he can deepen the kiss you initiated. after a moment or two, he pulls back. “Every time I kiss you, another pebble falls from the wall of my resolve. We’d better hold the wedding soon.” there’s a faint knock, three taps. Mista. he called out to Giorno that the car was here, and Giorno sighs, using his clean hand to caress your cheek. he didn’t want to send you away so soon, but you know he didn’t have a choice. 
nibbling on your own lip, you take his wrist and guide it back beneath your skirt, allowing his fingers to rub against your slick one more time, and gather your essence upon them. “Don’t stop thinking of me.” you demand, batting your eyelashes. when you release his wrist, he brings his hand up to his face and inhales deep. you didn’t miss the way he shudders when he catches your scent on his shiny fingers. 
“I would be the world’s biggest fool if I did.” 
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zujime · 9 months
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─── multiple characters x reader
characters included: bruno, joesph(not the old man ya'll, he is kinda bad tho ngl), josuke, jotaro, giorno, mista
c.w. when ur sad/upset/overthinking/idk, aged up, fluff, comfort, established relationship, no y/n usage, hcs, jjba, some italian pet names (2), a few swear words
- it's been a while since i posted jjba content, it's also been a while since i posted overall. this probably isn't much but for right now until i recover from this burnout, it's all i have. i hope you enjoy :)
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at times like these, bruno notices almost immediately that something's up when he walks into your shared home and is met with an eerie silence. it's not long before he's rushing into the bedroom in search of you, only to find you curled up in bed—hidden under covers as you trembled and sniffled lightly. his touch is gentle when he rests his hand on your quivering shoulder, voice even softer as he speaks—asking about what's troubling you.
"what's wrong, mia cara" whether you tell him or not, he encourages you to release whatever tears remain as he holds you, giving you a shoulder to cry on and lots of forehead, nose, and cheek kisses as he tries to soothe you. once you've calmed down, he'll ask if there's anything you want—either a necessity or just something you want, he's getting it without a second thought. he just loves you so much and wants to do all he can for you.
now joesph...is kind of a jerk when he finds you crying at first. he'd baby talk you as he pinches, squishes your cheeks, and flicks your forehead or nose while laughing his ass off, but when he notices that you're not giving him any snappy remarks, slapping his hands away, or laughing with him, that's when he knows something's wrong and he's actually worried.
and when he starts asking you what happened, he almost sounds like a fly that's been buzzing in your ear for god knows how long, but you know he means well, especially when he's giving you the warmest and tightest hug he can—holding you against his chest as you let his heartbeat calm your uneven breathing. he's definitely babying you for the rest of the day and he might tease you a teeny tiny bit, but only to make you laugh.
josuke would probably think he did something to cause you to feel this way and if that's the case, bro's apologizing profusely (please, he's so sorry). whatever the problem might be, expect lots—and i mean lots of short sloppy kisses all over your face while he whispers tons of "I'm sorry" or "it's ok" onto your face. he might refrain from asking what the problem is both out of fear and because he doesn't want to cross boundaries or upset you even more.
but he'll spoil you rotten for the entire week cause he wants you—his everything—to feel better and he wants you to know how much he loves you. cuddles, kisses, hugs, naps together, movie night, whatever the hell you want is exactly what he's gonna give you maybe even before you ask. (he'd probably cry w you, on a serious note).
i think that jotaro would sit there and wait for you to tell him what's wrong so he'll know if it's serious or not—if it's serious he'll stay and listen to what you have to say, but if it's not like you're crying because something is out of stock or something, he's leaving the room and not even sparring you a second glance.
anyway, if you need any type of physical affection, he'd be able to tell from your body language or if you ask him for it but either way, he's not gonna not give you what you want...he's a really good listener, would literally sit there and listen to all that you have to say with no interruptions and he'd cuddle with you until you fall asleep cause he needs to know that you're actually okay, but he's not leaving your side. at all.
ok listen, not exactly like josuke, but i think giorno would be such a sweetheart. he'd ask if you'd wanna talk about it and would be content listening to whatever you say to him while he's holding you in his arms to bring your frantic mind to a slow so you can focus on what you want to say. would definitely cuddle with you in bed—you'll pass out in like less than 20 minutes so yeah.
mista would be so worried but at the same time he's asking who did it with sex pistols in hand (bro's ready to kill a bitch for you). "amore mio, who do i need to kill?" "mista, please don't kill anyone..." he's drowning you in nothing but love (kisses, cuddles, hand-holding, etc). he'd let you wear his hat or play with his hair to calm you down if that's what you want. you're getting spoiled. no, if's and's or but's, you're getting spoiled. want food? he's got it. wanna watch something? the tv's already on. wanna nap? he's already waiting in bed. he'd also let you cry on his shoulder for as long as you need and he'll give you back rubs too. :((
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ddarker-dreams · 10 months
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Scarlet ribbons but she is the one telling the boys how she thinks they are super pretty/handsome/etc.
(Ps love your writing sm, it cheered me up alot after i had a rough day yesterday uwu)
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WAHH WHAT AN ADORABLE IDEA.... it's what they deserve tbh... my favs from part 5 are like the only people who get to be happy on this blog hrjktmger and i'm so glad that my writing helped cheer you up, i hope that the past few days have been treating you better!!
Reader is referred to as girlfriend here!
[Scarlet Ribbons index]
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Giorno
He gets the cutest blush that he tries to hide by covering his face with his hand and clearing his throat. Passione's Don, who remains unwavering in the face of death, can't handle his beloved heaping praises upon him. No matter how suave he may act, your relationship is his first foray into romance. There's a slight shakiness to his voice when he returns your compliment. It doesn't help that there's this glint in your eye that tells him you'll be using this newfound knowledge to your advantage. He supposes it's only fair, considering his penchant for teasing you whenever possible, but maybe he'll go easy on you after learning how it feels. That isn't to say he dislikes your kind words — more so that the temporary loss in his composure is a strange sensation. Strange, yet not unwelcome.
Bruno
Your serious Capo melts on the spot at such ardent praise — he can feel Cupid's arrow piercing him in real time. He takes a moment to recollect himself, before wondering aloud what brought this on. When you point out that he compliments you all the time without any real reason, he puts his hands up in defense, conceding to your argument. If you're in public, he'll limit his response to a warm thank you. Should you be away from prying eyes, however, he'll pull you into an embrace. It serves a dual purpose. You won't be able to see the pink dusting his cheeks and he gets to wrap you up in his arms. You really are the light of his life, he'll tell you. As unconventional as the lifestyle you both lead is, it's moments like this where he delights in a shred of normalcy.
Fugo
His overactive brain temporarily short circuits. Fugo is the type to blush up to his ears, no matter how vehemently he denies it. This poor guy considers you infinitely out of his league and immediately assumes you broke the espresso machine or something and want to soften the blow by using flattery. He sputters for a few moments before his tongue recalls how to properly form coherent words. He'll downright ask what angle you're trying to use here. He isn't used to receiving compliments without the other person having an end goal in mind. Once it's clear you just felt like letting him know, he takes deep breaths to calm his heart, which he can hear thumping loudly. Fugo then starts saying that objectively speaking, you are far more aesthetically pleasing, and starts lifting off some mathematical terms that fly over your head.
Mista
Mista points at himself and says "Me?" just to make sure he heard you right. This is a big moment for him. It isn't that he doubts your physical attraction to him, but hearing it confirmed out loud in your sweet voice is a real treat. He'll sling an arm around your shoulder and drops the line, "You're not so bad yourself", because he thinks it sounds cool. Mista wants to maintain his laidback air, but when you say stuff like that, his stomach does soumersalts and his hands start sweating. He has this big goofy grin and confident gait the remainder of the day. The one trade off (in his opinion) is that the Pistols start swarming about, insisting that you pay them equal praise. Chaos ensues until you appease their neediness for your validation. It is his soul made manifest, after all.
Narancia
Narancia does a little fist pump and starts cheering internally. Although, if you called him pretty, he might pause and get petulant. He totally exudes machismo, he'll insist. He'll warm up to the compliment eventually, though, but he won't admit it. Regardless, he's hype about it. His energy skyrockets the rest of the day. He's all over you, peppering your face with kisses, picking you up and twirling you around, he's on cloud nine. He considers it his personal mission to shower you in praise and this only reaffirms the creed. He'll go up to random people in public, point at you, and say stuff like, "Isn't she so cute? That's my girlfriend, yeah, that pretty lady over there. Do you see her? Just look at her, she's amazing, the coolest ever, did you know she—" and on and on he'll go.
Abbacchio
Similar to Fugo, he initially assumes that you're trying to butter him up. He'll wryly ask what you intend to cajole him into doing. When you huff and insist that this is a no strings attached compliment, he'll study you, since he knows the many tells that signify you're lying. Upon realizing you're being genuine, he'll grumble a few words of gratitude and leave it at that. Don't let his composure fool you — his heart is pounding away like he's a hormonal teenager again. He will lie awake that night, your words repeating on a loop without his Stand's assistance, floating in this warm and fuzzy sensation. Abbacchio might not be the best with his words, but he swears an oath to compliment you properly the next time he sees you.
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joestarfoundation · 2 months
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JOJOS: Tight, virgin and warm. . .
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Modern!AU. I aged-up some characters for obvious reasons. Minors DNI. Fem!Reader. English isn't my first language
AN: I didn't include Jolyne because she's missing an essential body part (cock) for this post, but I guess she'd be in prompt 2
JoJos x Fem!Reader
First time anal<3
nsfw link: Jonathan, Don! Giorno | If you want to experiment it, you will have to be the one to take the initiative in this case. You had already had vaginal sex, but this was different from before. Before starting the action, your husband would eat you out first, so you can relax, his long fingers preparing your tight entrace. After that, he would carefully enter, his pace would first be quite slow, since he wouldn't want to hurt you, but if you insist, maybe he would consider fucking you harder<3
nsfw link: Joseph, Josuke | On the other hand, he would be the one to take the initiative here. Of course your pussy is perfect, but he has touched himself more than once thinking what it would be like to feel your petite ass around his cock. So after an intense make-out session, you obviously being on top of him, his rough hands would start squeezing your ass, removing your skirt, and later your panties. Your eagerness with his would be quite comical, just imagine sinking into his dick, making sure you fill the right hole. Once you had gotten used to his dick inside your ass, there was no turning back. His thrusts were brutal, they were so strong that each thrust made you bounce like a ragdoll. It's not his fault, tho. It's not his fault that your butt is so tight and perfect:((
nsfw link: Jotaro, Johnny | Anal was something that had come to mind, but he had no intention of practicing it with you, well at least not until now. It's not that he doesn't feel like it, not at all, several times he had gotten hard when imagining what it would be like to feel his cock inside your asshole, He preferred to do other kinks with you. However, one day you waited for him in bed with a precious butt plug resting between your ass cheeks. Impossible not to be turned on by that. He replaced the butt plug with his cock, slowly filling you. At first it was quite slow, so that both of you could get used to the sensation, but after a few minutes, his pace was quite abrupt. Oh, it was so pleasurable, maybe this was the reason you guys hadn't tried this before, he would lose all control, his hands slapping your ass and his cock destroying your insides.
Here you can find more posts like these
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esha-isboogara · 1 year
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how long the jojos last during no nut november
i stole borrowed this idea from @garoujo i loved their jujutsu kaisen version of this and just KNEW i had to make my own!!!
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✰nothing too crazy but it’s still kinda nsfw, mentions of sex and all that, blah blah minors dni
jonathan: december 1st - being the most innocent of the jojos he is bound to last the entire month. his sex drive is not as high as most men his age plus he always enjoys a good challenge. he asked you multiple times if you were willing to do this and once you agreed it was set in stone. the hardest part of the month is hearing you beg for his cock night after night, having to deny you for so long takes a toll on him. jojo wants nothing more than to fill you up with cock,pumping you full as you cry for more ;) both of you get this wish when the month is over
joseph: november 2nd- when he first heard the idea he was thrilled. he was convinced he could coax you into failing within the first week,breaking you down with subtle touches and deep kisses. alas this was only a plan. when he woke up the next day with a bad case of morning wood he had to relieve it one way or another. joseph tried for maybe ten minutes to ignore it but gave up as soon as he took a good look at you sleeping form. oh god how could he resist you when you look so pretty.
caesar zeppelli: november 4th- at first he was totally opposed to the challenge, thinking it only to be juvenile and crude. but when he was made aware of joseph participating he was more than willing to take part in the game. caesar liked to think he had the self control of a god, able to resist even the most beautiful of temptresses. it turns out he’s not as strong as he had once thought. all it took was the sight of you stepping out of the shower and he was out. he won’t let you bring it up around jojo though, he may have lost the competition but he still has his pride.
jotaro kujo: november 27th- oh he was so close to lasting the entire month. jotaro is able to control himself to an insane amount. it didn’t matter how much you teased him, small touches, dirty things whispered in his ear, cute little outfits jotaro held on strong. one day you dropped by his office to give him a stack of papers he forgot at home and for some reason that broke him. you were just so kind and thoughtful how could he not reward you. he took you right there on his desk, loving the way your ass bounces as he pounds into you. jojo is a bit disappointed he didn’t last the entire month but you’re quick to comfort him and praise him for how well he did.
noriaki kakyoin: november 18th- the man is a gamer at heart so you best believe he’s down to participate in a boss fight of sorts. he takes the challenge the most seriously out of all the guys. he will not give in to absolutely anything. wellll that is until you kneel down between his legs while he was in the middle of a game and gave him those eyes. he didn’t want to lose he really didn’t but fuck you were just so beautiful knelt before him. after a round or two he admitted to tapping out of the competition. he’s super chill about losing and makes up for the lost time for the rest of the month ;)
josuke higashikata: november 15th- okayasu gave him the idea and he was so excited to pitch it to you. he was always the competitive type so he was more than happy to compete. for the next two weeks he kept his distance not wanting to slip up. but alas he is still a teenage boy and he has his needs. one particular day while embracing you he felt his cock twitch and he knew that was it. next thing you knew you were being dragged into an empty closed and fucked out of your mind. despite not lasting the whole month you have to commend him for keeping it together for as long as he did.
okuyasu nijimura: november 11th- he over heard the concept of the game from a few of his fellow classmates during math and figured it was worth a try. not like he anything better going on. the first week was smooth sailing for him, he had not one impure thought the entire time. but alas he is still a teenage boy the hormones are bound to start raging eventually. it wasn’t too hard to break the boy down. you bent down to pick something up off the floor and he just couldn’t help it anymore. all it took was a few thrusts and he was done. unlike other guys his age he wasn’t embarrassed that he failed the challenge. honestly he’s kind of glad he didn’t make it. now he doesn’t have to hold himself back any longer.
giorno giovanna: november 30th- the only reason he lasted as long as he did is because he’s a busy man, running the mafia and such. he didn’t have the time to worry about rearranging your guts while drugs plagued the streets of italy. don’t you worry though, once he manages to get a day off he will make sure your needs are properly taken care of.
mista guido: november 1st-the amount of self control this man has is close to none. if he starts to feel horny no matter where or when he will indulge in his urges. when you bring up the idea of no nut november to him he agrees in the beginning. but after a few hours he decides he doesn’t want to do it anymore. this man is fucking whipped and he is proud of it.
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mints-bizarre-posts · 7 months
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Incorrect Quotes #111
Giorno : Are you ready to commit?
Y/n : Like, a crime or a relationship?
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wickeddsensation · 7 months
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Giorno’s Love
Giorno who finds comfort in the sound of your voice, raspy and husky from sleep, when the evening sun bathes you in a golden halo. The mafioso who taps or squeezes your hand three times to say I love you.
His hand finding yours and looping his pinkie finger with yours, a hand on the small of your back, not commanding or controlling. The simple touch is merely a way to remind himself that you’re here.
Mornings always start with a gentle kiss and stealing his shirt, more often than not the perfect cup of coffee or tea is already waiting for you.
They say flowers given out of love last longer than those given out of obligation or guilt. That must be why the ones that come once a week like clockwork take so long to die. Different varieties every time, some you’re sure aren’t even native to Italy. But every time, there’s a new bouquet of fresh flowers waiting for you. Each flower hand selected by the young Don, thorns and stray leaves trimmed, each flower perfect and fragrant.
Sweet smelling rose petals accompany the lush bubbles, warm water, and crisp wine as Giorno lovingly prepares a bath for you every night. He knows you think it’s too much but I’m his eyes, it’s more than perfect for you.
Giorno is warm sunshine on your skin, spring breezes, fresh cut roses, hugs that take your breath away, kisses that make your heart skip and beat, and dates that make you feel like a princess.
Giorno Giovanna is the Prince Charming of your story.
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lliminall · 11 months
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libera me, dies irae, requiem aeternam
[yandere!GER x reader x yandere!giorno]
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word count: 1.8k
tags: fem reader, yandere, ignoring canon to make my silly little stories cooler, read a bunch of those poetry tiktok slideshows beforehand and now I think I can write like richard siken or something
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In the dream, you wake up in the void. It’s the only dream there is, ever since he brought you here. The dream always begins the same.
There is nothing in the void. Not a body for you to kick and flail with, not a voice for you to call out. There is only you, floating, and the prickling sensation of something watching you all the while.
You learn to accept it. The emptiness. You learn to tell yourself that you’re only dreaming, that it will pass as it does every other time, that you can simply ignore the clawing, gnawing feeling that you are being watched with the intensity of a predator stalking the sole object of it’s attention. It works, even as you begin to hear echoing whispers of words you can’t quite make out.
The voice is distantly familiar, the smooth tenor being one that you hear nearly every day, since he brought you here. If it would just come closer, speak a bit more clearly, maybe you could finally make out the words it speaks to you. Maybe they would be familiar, too.
You learn to manage, in the void of the dream that’s always the same, until the night it changes.
When you wake in the dream, you are in his bed, in the room he brought you to. It’s quiet, dark, and when you turn to face the other side of the bed, he isn’t there (you don’t like to say his name). You think you’re awake, really awake, until you glance out the window and see that it’s black outside. Not black with the night. Not black in the absence of light. Black in the absence of anything.
Your skin prickles. You are being watched.
You roll back onto your side quickly and the sound of rustling sheets is the only noise in a room far too quiet. There is something in the room with you, a shape in the shadows at the far end, rigid and unmoving. Your eyes strain to adjust to the darkness. At the top of its form, where its head must be, two eyes stare back at you, wide and unblinking and nearly glowing. Blood rushes through your ears. Your body is frozen, and you cannot look away. The eyes pin you where you lay.
“You are always afraid,” it begins in the familiar voice, “when we meet.”
Your tongue is heavy in your throat. You couldn’t respond even if you knew what to say. The figure begins to move, the eyes and the blurry shape of its body stalking slowly along the lines of the wall. It’s stays within the darkest throws of shadow, approaching you as if you would bolt at the slightest startling movement. Maybe you would, if there was anywhere to go. If you could feel your fear-stricken legs under the sheets.
“You have no need to fear me,” it says. It’s mechanical voice seems to soften. “I could never harm you, as my user could never bear to cause you harm.”
White-knuckled fingers clutch the sheets to your chest, and you take a long steadying breath as you command your body to move, speak, anything.
“Wh-who-“ your halting voice begins. “Who are you?”
The figure comes to a stop across from your bed. It regards you quietly for a moment, it’s unblinking eyes flitting over your body, your fists, your face. How helpless you must look below it.
“I will never harm you,” it says, it’s voice hardened and determined. It’s making a promise to you. A vow. “I will never leave you. My devotion to you will never wane.”
It takes a step toward you and your fingers lock again. It stops before you by the bed.
“There is nothing and no one that can take you from me, or from my user.”
It leans over your body and in the dim light of the room you can finally make out its face. Its smooth, hardened features. The crown of its head. The arrow shape pressed into its brow and its piercing, doll-like eyes. A mimicry of a human being. Something only half-way there.
There is no heat coming from its skin, you realize as it nearly cages you in. There is no warmth, no coldness, as if it occupies no space at all.
“In every eventuality, in all of life’s diverging paths, I will keep my promises to you.” It raises a pale hand to your face, and you realize that you’re crying at it wipes a tear from your cheek with a single finger. Not warm. Not cold. Not quite there.
“You will understand,” it says, in a voice that’s softer somehow. “In time, you’ll come to understand why we do what we must. I’ll see to it.”
A trembling breath rattles through your chest. It raises its hand in front of your face and you see that there’s a flower between its fingers, small and delicate. It tucks the bloom into the folds of your hair.
“I will see to it. No matter how many times it takes.”
The tea in your cup is getting cold. The china has been switched out today for something more colorful and ornate. To match the coming spring season, you suppose. He always is attentive like that (you don’t like to say his name).
“Should I have another drink brought out for you?” he asks. His voice registers somewhere in the back of your mind. Smooth tenor. Not mechanic. Familiar, in more ways than one now.
You take a steadying breath. You remember waking up in his bed this morning. You remember feeling the residual warmth of his body on the sheets he had just left. You remember the sunlight filtering through the curtains and onto your skin.
You remember picking flower petals out of your hair and gagging over the sink. You’re awake. Not asleep. Not in the dream. Awake.
His hand slides into your peripheral and you hear the soft clinking of a knife as he spreads jam onto a pastry for you.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks.
The sunlight is warm on your skin. The scent of his coffee is light in the air. His hand dips into your view again to set the pastry onto your plate. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake.
In the back of your mind you register his sigh. His hand comes to rest tentatively over yours, and you finally give him the eye contact he wants (you don’t like to look at him. You don’t like to speak to him or be touched by him or sit in the parlor and have breakfast with him either, but he doesn’t always give you the choice).
“You can tell me if you’re having trouble sleeping,” he says. “You know I’ll help in any way that I can.”
His blonde hair sits in perfect curls against his face. He’s trying, you can tell, to school his expression into something relaxed and amicable, but you can also tell it’s taking more of a strain than he would like you to see. You are driving him mad with worry. You know, because his face is beginning to look a lot like yours. Sunken, dark-eyed, bleak.
“I’m fine,” you say, and move your hand to take the biscuit from your plate. You begin to eat, finally, and his shoulders seem to relax a bit.
“I’ll bring home a supplement for you. Some melatonin, perhaps,” he says. “And you can tell me if there’s anything else you need.”
His voice is too familiar. But his hand was warm on top of yours and there’s sunlight in the windows and food in your mouth. Awake, awake, awake.
“Thank you,” you say, and raise the beautiful cup to your mouth. Your tea has gone cold.
Giorno wakes late into the night with a tug on his soul. His stand is out, and up to something.
He rolls to his side to see the stand crouched low, eyes locked on his, it’s face close to yours and it’s fingers threaded through your hair. It isn’t the first time he’s caught it like this.
The stand pets your hair in long, affectionate strokes, and you don’t stir under its ministrations. You had been so good for him that evening, sitting quietly at the dinner table as he sorted through paperwork, tucking yourself into bed and accepting the melatonin gummies he handed to you without fuss. He knows you’re only being so cooperative because you don’t have the energy to put on a stubborn face anymore. You haven’t been sleeping well since he brought you here.
The medicine seems to have done it’s work and then some. Giorno can see lines imprinted in the skin where your cheek was pressed into your pillow. Your hair is splayed around your head in a mess of a halo, and you don’t stir as he props himself up an elbow to better look at you.
They sit in silence, he and his stand, watching your peaceful visage. It isn’t an expression they often have the privileging of seeing any other time.
Giorno is often struck with the sense that are things going on beyond his awareness. That his stand, powerful and intelligent in ways he doesn’t yet comprehend, is pulling strings he cannot see. Often, he is struck with the sense that his ultimate weapon is not as well under his control as it allows him to believe.
The stand removes its hand from your hair and looks at him. The hand trails lightly across the length of your body, curving over the lines of your shoulder, your waist, ruffling the fabric at your hip. It watches him expectantly, and Giorno’s fingers twitch.
The stand removes its hand and Giorno raises his own, guilty like a child reaching out for what’s been forbidden. He starts at your shoulder, smoothing the sleeve of your shirt and feeling emboldened when you don’t so much as breath in response. He flattens his hand against your warm skin, brushing down the dip of your waist, the hard line of your hips, the soft flesh of your belly. There are inches between his chest and your body. It’s the closest he’s ever been to holding you.
His heart swells with adoration, every little interaction a blessing that renews his devotion to you. He looks at his stand that has not broken its line of sight with him, and wordlessly they come to their constant understanding.
More than anything, he wants to keep you safe. More than anything, he wants you to understand that he loves you, and selfishly he wants your love in return.
Giorno lays down beside you, his arm draped over your form. He thumbs at the sliver of skin where your shirt has ridden up over your belly, and trusts that whatever his stand may be doing, whatever hidden things lie outside of his control for the time being, it’s all being done for their sake. It’s all being done for your sake.
He closes his eyes and leaves you under the watch of his unblinking Requiem.
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etherealzx · 1 year
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can you write bucci gang cuddling reader (separately) and reader is tired and stressed out and falls asleep in their arms ? :3 GN reader x3
this is too cute! i want to cuddle them all :')
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Cuddles with the Bucci Gang (Seperate)
(cut for length :3)
☆ Bruno Bucciarrati ☆
He absolutely LOVES cuddling. He loves the intimacy and the innocence of it, plus he just loves being close to you ajkasdh
If he knows that you're tired or stressed out (or both), he will always try to get you to come cuddle with him
He loves hearing about your day, and the things you did.
Even if you had a bad day and just need to vent, he will be there to listen. He's an amazing listener, and he loves to listen to you.
He will let you rant about things that have been bothering you so that you can get the stress out of your system and relax
When you cuddle with him, he holds you close to him, and I mean CLOSE
He holds you tightly, like he's afraid to lose you
He's insanely warm. Like almost to the point where you need to rip the blankets off because he's too warm
He also smells like soft lavender, which makes you fall asleep almost instantly
He loves to watch you sleep, but not in a creepy way. He just thinks you look so peaceful and adorable while you sleep. He loves to see you comfortable and happy, because it makes him happy too.
☆Leone Abbacchio ☆
He also loves cuddling, but would rather die than admit it
If you mention it, he scoffs and tells you that he thinks its stupid and he doesn't see the point
He acts like he hates it because he thinks it would make him seem less manly if he admitted to liking it
Similar to Bruno, he likes the closeness. He loves being able to feel your warmth next to him, to hear your heartbeat, the weight of your body, and run his fingers through your hair
He loves that you feel safe enough with him to fall asleep in his arms
He wraps his strong arms around you, almost as if he's protecting you
He smells like expensive cologne and musk, making you grow addicted to his scent
He lets you use his big chest as a pillow while he holds you
He'll caress your hair while giving you small kisses on the top of your head
Thinks you look so beautiful in your sleep, it's the purest and most raw form of you :')
☆ Pannacotta Fugo ☆
Fugo isn't really used to physical affection, as he was never really shown any throughout his life
This is especially true when it comes to physical affection in a romantic relationship
He's very nervous when you come sit close to him, after a long and tiring day
He thinks that he's a danger to you, and worries about him or his borderline uncontrollable stand ability accidentally hurting you in some way
He loves to hear you talk about your day, and like Bruno he's a fantastic listener
He also gives amazing advice
If you lean into him, he will stiffen up at first
When he calms down, he leans into you as well, wrapping his arm around you
He's surprisingly warm
He loves the feeling of your body against his, its very comforting to him
If you fall asleep on him, it just makes his heart swell. The fact that you feel safe enough around him to sleep on him just makes him so happy
Once he gets used to you doing this with him, he'll start wanting to do it all the time :)
☆ Guido Mista ☆
KING OF CUDDLES
Mista loves to touch you in any way he can, his love language is without a doubt physical touch
He will wrap his arms around your waist and carry you to the bed to come cuddle with him
Holds you close to him, he loves to be the big spoon (although he will let you be the big spoon if you want to, he really doesn't care as long as he's close to you)
He thinks its funny to fart on you and then pull the covers over your head
He'll run his fingers through your hair and kiss your neck and cheeks
Peppers kisses all over your face
He loves to listen to you talk about your day, especially when you have a funny story to tell
He also loves to tell you about his day, his story telling abilities can make anything sound interesting
Tries to tickle you and/or tease you while he cuddles you because he's a little stinker
When you fall asleep, he'll stroke your hair and listen to the little noises you make in your sleep. He thinks it's adorable and funny at the same time
If anyone Narancia dares to disturb your sleep, he'll threaten them with his Sex Pistols
☆ Narancia Ghirga ☆
Sweet baby omg. Like Mista, he loves physical affection
He'll constantly ask you to cuddle with him, and even if you don't feel like it you almost always give in bc you can't say no to that face
He'll hold you so tight he's almost squeezing you, you have to tell him to loosen up a little
He's just excited, he loves you, he can't help it!
He's super warm, like your own personal toaster oven
Loves to get under a big pile of blankets and pillows while he cuddles you
He'll tell you all kinds of sweet things about how pretty/handsome he thinks you are, how much he loves you, and how cool and funny you are
Loves to kiss your cheeks and forehead
If you fall asleep while cuddling with Nara, he tries so so so hard to stay still and not wake you up. He knows that you need the rest and he wants to make sure that you're as comfortable as possible
☆ Giorno Giovanna ☆
Giorno's love language is words of affirmation. However, I don't think he would mind cuddling at all!
Giorno will hold you close to him while you lay your head on his chest
He'll ask you if it's okay if he touches you, and if you're comfortable like this, and if you need anything
He'll ask you to tell him all about your day. He wants to hear every little detail, listening intently
Like Fugo, he gives really good advice
He'll always tell you that he's proud of you, even on days when you're not proud of yourself
He's surprisingly comfortable to lay on, his chest is much softer than it seems
He smells like lavender, it makes you sleepy just from laying there
His soft voice, his sweet scent, and the way he plants soft kisses on you as he holds you are the perfect combination to put you in a deep, peaceful sleep
He'll kiss your nose and brush your hair out of your face as you sleep
He loves to see you comfortable and peaceful like this, it makes him feel so warm inside
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randoimago · 1 year
Note
With the Bucci gang, what about a reader whos like, the nicest person they know but has a really, angry stand for some reason.
Pretty much never uses it, it attempts to kill everything at all times.
Sweet Reader Has a Killer Stand
Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure
Characters: Abbacchio, Bruno, Fugo, Giorno, Mista
Type of Request: Headcanons
Notes: Here you go!!
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Abbacchio can’t help but be annoyed by you constantly being nice. And when he sees your stand, he views it as him being right about you secretly being an angry person since a stand is like your soul or whatever the hell.
Bruno is so happy for your personality since it balances out a lot of the asshole personalities in his group. Your stand is definitely a problem, but he knows you didn’t ask for it to be how it is. Offers his help should you ever want it, just to see if there is any way to calm it or make you feel better when it does get aggressive.
Fugo can’t help but scoff at the irony. He understands having an unsafe stand considering he really can’t use his own with anyone around. So he gets it, he can definitely relate to you on that.
Giorno is a lot like Bruno, except he’s a lot more reckless. Should the situation call for it, he’ll absolutely tell you to use your stand even if he’s around. He knows you’ll call it off if things get too bad (although Giorno has some plans so he’d tell you to keep your stand out).
Mista loves how nice you are. He’s usually the butt of jokes so he’s glad to finally get some compliments and recognition that he deserves from you. Is fucking terrified of your stand though. With how much Sex Pistols likes you, they can be your stand too.
Narancia also enjoys your positive personality and how sweet you are. Also very scared of your stand, but he trusts you. If you think you have to use it then he’ll follow your lead. Does his best to help take care of situations so you don’t have to.
Trish thinks your being super nice is a bit weird. As for your stand, yes it’s destructive, but if it gets the job done then you should use it. You won’t be able to control it if you’re constantly scared.
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noaltbruh · 1 year
Note
Saw requests open. May I request Giorno, Narancia and Fugo with a short petite girlfriend who’s self conscious about her height? So no short nicknames. I’d like to see how they’d like having a short gf 💗 Maybe their reactions to her standing on her tip toes to kiss them or asking them to reach something for her on the top shelf.
Hii Abella! 😊 Always happy to write for you :)
~~~~
Giorno, Fugo and Narancia with a petite S/O
Giorno 🐞
I think that Giorno knows he was supposed to be taller/more muscular, but being malnourished by his mother as a child, he failed to properly develop.
Which means that the idea of making fun of you for your height doesn't even cross his mind from afar. It's not like it's something you can control anyway.
I feel like he'd understand your self-consciousness about your body without you really needing to tell him. The way you look at yourself in the mirror or the comments you make about yourself already clarify everything for him.
Just know that if you ever felt insecure, this boy is ready to fill you with compliments and sweet words until those thoughts go away. He hates to see you criticise yourself, especially for something as insignificant as your height.
He actually thinks that your appearance makes you look cuter than you already are, and it reflects your sweet nature very well. He couldn't imagine you with any other way, he just thinks you're perfect as you are.
He makes you to constantly remind you this, he knows you may still doubt his words from time to time.
Buddy, you won't even have to ask him to get something for you. It's almost as if he has a sixth sense for this sort of thing. Once he thinks you're going to need a book or such, he'll take it down from the shelf and leave it on a table for you.
He doesn't want to see you struggle and figured you might get a bit embarrassed from always asking for help, he prefers to quietly help you as subtly as he can.
Also, I can see him avoiding putting stuff on high shelves in general unless it's absolutely necessary, he knows it must be a pain for you not to be able to do this sort of thing alone.
Definitely likes to take advantage of your figure when it comes to cuddles. Expect a lot of head pats from him, it's one of his favorite ways to show appreciation for you :)
This is a bit extra, but I can totally see him getting down on his knees to kiss your hand or flirt with you, just to make you feel above him, in a sense, and show that he's always at you full service.
He already knew you were going to get on tip toes to kiss him, but he didn't expect you to look so adorable. He'll smile at you softly before gently lowering his head in order to assist you.
He'll definitely pick you up bridal style quite often, so you don't have to struggle every time you try to reach his lips.
Fugo 🍓
Okay, to be frank with you, I don't think Fugo had thought about you possibly being insecure about your height until you hypothetically brought it up yourself.
Not because he doesn't care or he's neglectful to the point of not noticing. It's simply due to the fact that he's never been someone who focused a lot on physical appearance and considers it completely unimportant.
You can basically see hearts in his eyes everytime he looks at you, he could never criticise or believe there was anything wrong with your appearance. He thinks that would be incredibly superficial and hypocritical, considering his own...Fashion sense.
So, when you tell him about this, Fugo is just...Confused. He doesn't get it at first glance, but he's not stupid and can tell it makes you uncomfortable. He'd probably even ask you if anyone ever made you feel bad about your appearance, since it's the only logical explanation to him as to why you'd dislike this aspect of yourself.
Either way, although he doesn't fully grasp this idea, he'll still try his best to make you appreciate yourself like he does.
He's not as good with compliments as Giorno though, so he may sound a bit awkward lol. But I promise he does mean what he's saying and genuinely believes you have no reason to doubt your beauty.
I can even see him writing down what he thinks on paper so that he doesn't come off as extremely embarrassing like he does through words lol.
Whenever he's feeling stressed, Fugo will actually use your appearance for his advantage. In fact, he loves the feeling of leaning on you, specifically your shoulder, when he wants to relax. Your height difference makes it easier for him to do so.
Something similar would happen if the two of your were to read together. He'd shyly ask you if you want to sit on his legs, as he'd let his chin comfortably fall between your shoulder and your neck while you hold the book.
If you ask him to get something for you on a high shelf, he'll just do so without making a big deal out of it. He secretly thinks it's kind of cute and loves to do so, he feels like he's doing something useful.
Do not try to get on a chair to reach it yourself, however, because he WILL get mad. Don't take this the wrong way, he gets that you don't want to bother him, he's just worried you're going to fall off and get hurt.
He's a bit surprised when you get on tip toes, he hadn't realized you had no other choice if you wanted to kiss him. I can see him being conflicted on whether he should lean down on your level or not.
On one hand, he can see that you're struggling a bit and doesn't want to see you like that. On the other, he's afraid he's going to come off as condescending or male even more self conscious.
So he just stands there for a moment contemplating his next move, but you kiss him by the time he actually chooses what to do.
Moreover, your petite body only makes him want to kiss your forehead and the top of your head more than he already would.
Narancia 🍊
Buddy, I don't think you realize how happy Narancia is to have you.
Personally, I think that he was never supposed to be supet tall, but living on the streets only worsened the situation, as he either had very little or no food at all, which caused him to remain...Well, shorter than average, let's say.
Because of this, he's just as self-conscious, if not even more than you are about this. I wouldn't be surprised if someone had made fun of him in the past too.
Which means that, even though he's not usually the brightest, you won't have to say anything to him either before he realizes you struggle with this insecurity too.
Needles to say, it really pains him to see you doubt yourself like this. He's very emphatic and will tell you that he knows what's it like to look at yourself in the mirror and not like what you see.
Nonetheless, he has begun to feel more confident in his appearance ever since you got together, and he wants you to feel the same way.
He would never dare to call you shortie or anything alongside those lines, since he'd be very uncomfortable with it himself.
Instead, he'll always be ready to fill you with praises, compliments and hype you up anytime he gets the chance to. Like- maybe you weren't even feeling bad in that moment, he just thinks you're beautiful either way and wants to let you know.
And he doesn't say this just to make you feel better. He genuinely means every word he speaks, and there's nothing that matters more to him than to make you feel validated no matter what. He wants you to love yourself and your body as it is in its natural beauty, and if you can't do that, he's got enough love himself to make up for it.
Your height is one more reason for him to hug and snuggle you in literally any moment. He loves the feeling of holding you in your entirety, without leaving a single part of your body out.
He loves to piggy back ride you on his shoulders, that way you can feel tall together! And the others can't make fun of the two of you anymore.
Is it partially an excuse just to carry you around? Yes, yes it is, but does it really matter anyway? You're both having a good time and can even triumph over Abbacchio and his bad bitch high heels.
Similarly, the two of you would also use this technique to get something from a high shelf if both of you were too short to reach it...Although you have fallen off a couple of times because of this-
If he's tall enough, however, he'll help you out without a single moment of hesitation, you can tell something as simple as this makes him happy. He has the hugest grin on his face, and he hands it to you like he had just delivered some legendary object after a dangerous quest.
He's just glad his height can actually be useful for once and you don't consider it a flaw, it makes him very grateful to have you by his side.
When he sees you get on tip toes to kiss him, Narancia literally can't contain his excitement nor can wait for you to actually reach his lips. He'll just pick you up, hug you and swirl you around before kissing you himself.
No, he will not let you go after this either.
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pomupom · 7 months
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So let me get you now.
yan ! La Squadra di Esecuzioni + Escort Squad.
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“ Should I wait until you croak? ” / “ You can't do anything now. ”
maybe he knew this would be the outcome all along, but risotto still does not give you up because he loves you. you will never forgive him for what he's done, and he cannot blame you — he never thought that he'd contort to such methods that made his past self clench with anger, and even as he is now he still feels a hatred towards what he's done. but risotto had to get his hands on you, and there was no other option available to make you see that he was willing to go such extreme lengths to make that happen. never had anyone gotten close to him, even throughout all his years, yet now he is approaching you. risotto hates your tears as you push him away and beat against his chest, telling him to just stay away from you — and never did he think those words would be able to hurt him again. his heart aches for a moment, but only just one before he's making you shut up. razor blades spill from your mouth, blood pouring along with them, if it takes a slow death to teach you ... so be it. no matter which fate you succumb to, you will always be his. no one will ever keep him from you.
bruno was respected and admired where ever he went. he still held onto his dignity and sense of justice within such a filthy, greedy business — he was destined for success. you just weren't sure where you fit in, and you didn't think you could give him the happiness he deserved. yes, you loved bruno bucciarati with all of your heart, but you did not deserve his. everything goes so wrong when you tell him how you feel — bruno raises his voice at you, he doesn't mean to shout, he doesn't mean to scare you, but you have terrified him. the thought of losing you pounds on his brain, seeping it's way into every thought he has, and bruno cannot quell his worries without taking desperate measures. if he isn't there to protect you, who knows what could happen, who knows the kinds of people who are just waiting for you to be vulnerable? a part of his heart feels betrayed by your bitter words, nibbling his love off piece by piece, trying to leave once you've gotten your fill. he is no longer kind, and you struggle to recognize him as bucciarati — how could such a cruel man be hiding under all the warmth? how could you have been so stupid to think he would ever let you go? the two of you are written in fate, and he will not set you free.
“ It can’t be helped. ” / “ Still no one takes me seriously! ”
for a kidnapper, you must admit that formaggio is quite laid-back. though nothing short of creepy or disgusting, you had imagined him worse than what he is. but, maybe, that's his game, trying to get you to relax ... you just look like you've seen a ghost! you jump whenever his hands trail along your shoulders, fingers roughly digging into the muscles, he just wants his darling to feel comfortable in their new home, you've yet to warm up to your surroundings. you can't believe he goes as if nothing is wrong, that everything has been this way forever — but it's not like that, sweetie baby. formaggio knows he's done wrong, he knows he's not a good man, so he can live his life all the same. you're like another little kitty, you need taken care of, sour and sometimes sweet. he'll let you wallow in your thoughts from the safety inside a bottle until you're feeling better. denying him and yourself will only make you miserable, formaggio promises you'll be much happier if you start to view the future with himself in it. it can't be helped, some things will simply just be as they're meant to.
with a blade to your neck, barely cutting the skin, narancia begs for you to love him back. he wants to do anything but hurt you, but he cannot find another way to make you see him. he has loved you for so long, but he is the runt of the litter — only a friend to you, you just couldn't ever see yourself dating someone like him. what the hell does that even mean?! he can't tell if you're insulting him or not, he doesn't know if you're trying to make him into some sort of fool, but he knows he's not stupid. you're making fun of him just like everybody else does, you think he's some kind of joke too, don't you? you don't know why he's crying, but there's so much anger inside of his glare that you don't dare speak a word until he's calmed. you didn't mean for it to come off that way, you aren't trying to say that he's stupid — he's simply just a friend in your eyes, nothing more. but it hurts his brain even more to try and understand, you're speaking in riddles to him, do you love him or not? that's all he needs to know to get his answer. that's all he needs to know what he's going to do to you.
“ To be safe... and invincible inside the Mirror... ” / “ Where do you think you can run to?! ”
illuso is anything but a kind man, and those who've had the misfortune of meeting him would agree. but, with you, he has become somewhat of a worrier — he hates to realize he cares about someone, that he is genuinely feeling the need to protect and keep you safe. you stroke his ego and tip-toe around the delicate parts of his pride, brushing through his hair and fixing up his clothes, you're scared and that forces you to be sweet. you live in a world of bubble-wrap, a world where no one can reach — you are alone, stuck in the endless corridors of imaginary life, a replica of what you used to know. an emptiness sits in the air, wafting wherever you go. illuso cares, and that's why he must do this — you can only be safe when nobody knows of your existence, you must live in a place only he may enter. a place of invincibility, no one can see you inside of the mirror.
fugo has yet to mature and accept the emotions inside of him. all of the anger and hate preventing vulnerability from spilling through — and you've gotten hit with the brunt of it, drawing out violent frustration, each time his hands end up around your neck you wonder if it'll be the last time you ever feel the pain. a need to be kept superior, you're kept under foot, painfully digging into you, you will never be more than he allows you to be. though even fugo knows you do not deserve such, his anger towards the world is thrown at you instead of all which has cursed him — nobody, not even you, could hate fugo more than he hates himself. the worst of self-loathing pains clawing at his heart, leaving permanent marks. you are his ‘ whole ’, even if he acts as if you are less than his half.
“ I can see you cowering on the inside. ” / “ I’ll rip you apart! ”
never has prosciutto been one to brag, but there's a certain sweetness which follows the knowledge you undoubtedly stand on top, and you're a constant reminder to his brain. more of a pet than partner, discipline comes with molding anything into something new — holding your release, prosciutto only uses the taste of death to install fear into you, to engrave into more than your flesh of what he's capable of. hands forever resting around your throat, direct contact is the fastest spread – death no longer becomes an escape, and there is more to fear than just wandering the abyss. soul with a missing heart, there is no line to cross that'll signify when everything becomes too much — is there love hiding within the walls, or have you driven prosciutto to suffer insanity? nothing is good enough for him, and you will not be the start.
anything but intimidating, pesci grimaced at how he lived his life. letting his cowardice led him through everything, his head turned on him long ago and only the false comforts of his heart could ease it while he sat in the loneliness of a dark room. he wouldn't feel so alone if he could change — and pesci believes you can lead the way to his growth. his stomach pits with guilt, but it is only another emotion added to the messy pile he has inside, and all of those can disappear once he's a ‘ man ’. he tries to comfort you through tears as he would himself, but you've turned away from him as well. pesci can't help how his teeth grind against each other, he can't help how his hands wrap around your throat. and for once, somebody becomes small in his presence. if you think you can just brush him off like that, to ignore his kindness towards a pathetic thing like yourself ... well, he's glad he's here to teach you – you've lost to him, it's time to recognize your place below pesci.
“ Di molto, Di molto bene! Excellent! ” / “ I hate to sound cold ... but stay away from me. ”
for even the smallest things you do, melone praises all of it. even in such a state of living, you still manage to persevere, and god does it make melone all the more excited to break you down. he loves how you lean into his embrace, trying to act like you aren't scared anymore — you still remember what he did last time you flinched away, the pain in his soul resonating with your own. it never feels good to be denied love. he layers thick on the honey, coating his tongue in the venom of love and lust, he wants you to taste all of it. all of him. your throat feels constricted when he breathes against your neck, lips pressed up against the skin, he sinks his fangs into you. it's impossible to feel safe even when he tells you such sweet words, it only gets harder and harder to cover each bite and bruise of venomous kisses. your lungs collapse every time he nears, words caught in your throat, you hate how his touch burns your skin. you're just so great, melone doesn't doubt that he's fallen in love.
driving him to wits end, it won't take much more until giorno resolves to simply stop caring about your desire for freedom. sitting in the position of power, there's little giorno cannot have, and you have not been able to scurry into that list. a bird locked in cage, you're on display for only his eyes — an emotion stronger than what giorno is used to has been brought forth, blooming an unwelcome, distracting feeling in his heart. your face breaking him every time, he feels weak in the knees, wanting nothing more than to force you by his side already – who would you be to deny him, anyway? but only would he futher himself from the goal of having you heart only for his own. is there really a way to love you in a ‘ normal ’ way? is there a way to quell these thoughts of obsession, pounding on his mind when you've done nothing but smile in his direction? but, there is no one else he'd rather go crazy for. you've become his meaning, even if these words he confesses make your eyes grow wide with terror, he cannot keep it inside any longer.
“ You thought you could get away from me? ” / “ Quit your bitching! ”
a man who never loses track of his target, you may think you're safe — but never will you get away from ghiaccio. violence or passion, you are thrown in the mess of his emotions. doing nothing but igniting his temper, the raging tides do not quell for you, and his affection is displayed through shouts and bruises, leaving a branding in his shape on body and mind — never will ghiaccio admit the feelings he's garnered for you, but a possessive ache is ever present. you are not a lover, you are his possession. feeling entitled to all that you are, ghiaccio demands control of you, bits of freedom always within eye, but never will they amount to the entirety. he thrives off of your terror, the complete realization that you've got nowhere to go anymore – you are alone in this world if you do not let ghiaccio in. tears frozen before they can fall, all emotion is weakness in his eyes, there is nothing warm and tender between the two of you. a glacier found where his heart lay, you'll be preserved in it even after death. ghiaccio will hold you dear — yours simply too weak, unable to handle his love. do you shiver from the cold, or has the fear begun to set in?
a deceitful romantic, guido found himself obsessing over the thought of you — charisma grated into your ears, you'd never heard such terrible pick-up lines in your entire life. covering for the depth of every word, he assumed role of your reliable best friend — and how mista thought he'd loved, loved, loved you before, you slip him new reasons to keep only you in his distracted mind. he doesn't mind how you whine and complain, a bitchy persona thrown on as you two stroll around town – he can guess every word you've said before it leaves your mouth. maybe a psychic connection, or, more probable, he's done too much stalking. a young man like mista is always thinking about his next romance, the next one who'll have the heart he desires — but he doesn't think they'll be anymore who follow in your steps. ‘ love ’ is a bit of a foreign concept, his dark eyes swirl ink and obsession, pulling you under hypnosis of his friendly charm. you can yell at him all you'd like – scream out to the world of how you hate him. but, there's only one thing stronger than love, hatred.
“ I am also a man with no place to go and no place to call home. ”
leone never meant to turn things sour between the two of you, but he supposes everything which is good inevitably becomes bad when it finds him. and he thought he'd learnt to never ask for more than what he is, the uncertainty of a result never worth the pain of sacrifice — he cannot help but want you still. yet another thing to keep him awake at night, he stares into the moon picturing your face, replaying tender moments that've had such a strong affect on his lonely heart. he'd pledged his loyalty to this organisation, but everything leone had been working back up got pushed away again when he met you. his attention worth less than nothing, you've gained all of it – sunlight eyes staring into the pit of your heart, empty for him, he finds his mind darkening at the thoughts of your love only shared to him. only has abbacchio held your memory close, the illusion wears off more and more each night. you are the thing that'll be enough for him. an underlying guilt covered up by apathy, abbacchio is nothing of what he thought he'd be. there is nothing the world has given him, but there is nothing that he deserves — you are not meant for him, but leone has always been one who resorts to ‘ dirty ’ methods.
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adiposewalksaway · 1 year
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All JoJo's x reader who gets scared easily
Headcannons of all the JoJos with a reader who gets scared easily. 
To preface this, I think all the JoJo’s are going to be pretty protective to some degree. They all show it differently. 
Jonathan Joestar
Jonathan is going to be the most protective of all the JoJo’s
If he can do absolutely anything to help you, he will. 
To some extent it’s a matter of pride 
Under no circumstances would he try to force you to confront your own fears 
If fact, he’d do this best to keep you away from anything you fear 
He would take bugs out and free them somewhere away from you. 
If you’re startled by loud sounds, he’ll gently cover your ears and lead you away from the noise bothering you. 
Joseph Joestar
My first thought was that he would laugh at you
I definitely think that he would love it if you got really clingy when scared. 
If you went to him for comfort, he’d just melt inside 
But if you’re scared of bugs and you ask him to kill one or to take it outside, he would definitely laugh 
Until it came flying at him
Then he’s running way faster than you
That boy would be gone
Jotaro Kujo
So, I think he would have a hard time understanding your fears and why you’re afraid 
But he would try his best, try to make sure nothing spooks you
If it’s a person you’re scared off, he’d beat them up 
Is the type to be a human shield to separate you from anything that scares you
No fear, this boy would kill bugs for you. 
Josuke Higashikata
He’s happy you trust him with the things you’re scared of. 
If you share your fears, he’ll share his with you. 
He’s among the best JoJo’s to go to for comfort 
It may take him a few times to figure out the best way to comfort you. But he’s doing his best 
And it shows, no one will be able to comfort you better than him. Once he’s perfected his method. 
Giorno Giovanna 
Giorno would be more will to try to make you face your fears
Not in a way that would hurt you
He enjoys you relying on him for comfort but he doesn’t want you to be completely dependent on him. 
When you do get scared he’ll use his stand, a comforting gesture, or anything really to make you feel better. 
He may not always hit the mark, but is the thought that counts. 
Jolyne Kujo
If your fears can be physically fought, she is the first one to throw hands. 
If it’s a person, you can bet she’ll beat them up for you. 
Even if your fears can’t be physically fought, she’ll do her best to fight your fears. 
She is going to want you to feel safe at all times. 
I think she would be a little scared of bugs, but would do anything for you. 
Would make her stand to take bugs out. 
Anything to comfort you
Johnny Joestar
I think Johnny is going to be the best at physical comfort. 
He would drop whatever he’s doing to comfort you. If you want to be held, he’s holding you. 
I think Johnny has a lot of fears and insecurity, especially after the accident. So, he can relate to how you’re feeling. 
He is the last person to judge you over a fear or insecurity. 
He respects you a lot.
The two of you can work out your problems together.
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ddarker-dreams · 9 months
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Scarlet Ribbons accidental kisses with the gang? (I love your writing so much! You're one of the best fanfic writers <3 <3 I reread your works so often, they make my day : D)
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wahhh thank you so much, i'm happy to know my writing can bring you some joy!!! 💖
i'm going to assume that this request takes place before SR reader is in a relationship with anyone, hopefully that's what you had in mind hkjetgrmw maybe something like she started to trip and x guy went to catch her? some traditional shoujo exploits ...
[Scarlet Ribbons index]
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Giorno
There's a 99% chance Giorno's sentient Stand, GER, had a hand in this. The Stand shares Giorno's affection for you and wishes his user would hurry up in courting you already. Giorno catches onto the shenanigans at play but it's too late — while catching you, your lips make contact. His face has never felt so warm. He tries portraying himself in this suave, calm manner, but when you're in his general vicinity, it's a challenge to maintain this balanced state. His voice is a few pitches higher when he rushes through an apology. The Don of Passione would feel less nervous starting down the barrel of a gun. Later, he chastises his conniving Stand, but deep down… he's secretly grateful.
Bruno
Bruno doesn't immediately pull away and thinks less of himself because of it. He's straining himself to the degree that veins start protruding from his forehead. Your comfort matters far more to him than satisfying any carnal needs. After he ensures you're steady, he puts an appropriate amount of distance between you, then starts apologizing for the mishap. If you're feeling particularly mischievous, now would be the most opportune time to tease him. He's usually immune to being flustered, even from you, but the emotions running rampant through his system momentarily lower his defenses. There'll be a slight blush on his sunkissed skin. He's quick to excuse himself so he can get his heart under control.
Fugo
Fugo struggles to make eye contact with you for a solid week. Once he gets past the initial slew of positive hormones that make him feel like he's on cloud nine, reality settles in, and he's mortified. What if you think he's a creep who did it on purpose? The thought alone leads to sleepless nights where he gnaws on his nails. He berates himself and is extra prone to explode with anger at the slightest provocation. You need to reassure him before there's collateral damage. He's still stiff around you for a while, but that's because his eyes start wandering to your lips if he isn't careful. His own start tingling, as if remembering the soft sensation and longing to experience it again.
Mista
Mista knew the lord was on his side. The last time he attended mass, he prayed for something like this to happen. The main objective henceforth is to maintain his cool. Ride out the waves of coincidence and try not to come off too strong, lest he scare you away. Once he's certain you aren't going to unleash your wrath upon him, the cogs in his brain begin turning. What can he say to sweeten the moment? Win you over with his charisma and charm? There's got to be a perfect combination of words that'll have you weak to your knees. Eventually, he settles on complimenting your chapstick flavor. He later bemoans himself for not saying something cooler.
Narancia
It's like raw caffeine was injected into his veins. He's absolutely ecstatic, ready to bounce from wall to wall, even though he recognizes it was an accident. Who cares? This has got to be fate, or whatever it's called, he thinks he heard the term in a movie once. Narancia is bragging about it to absolutely everyone, much to their chagrin (especially Fugo's). Abbacchio pours salt into Narancia's drink when he isn't looking as a silent form of vengeance. You come into the room and everyone aside from Narancia is grumpy. You're absolutely his first kiss, a fact he takes great pride in. That is, until he wonders if he's your first kiss… then his mood is slightly pampered… for all of ten minutes. Then he's back to beaming, uncaring of anything besides the fact your lips made contact.
Abbacchio
Abbacchio cannot remember the last time his heart pounded this hard — if ever. Still, he doesn't linger in the moment. He may be harsh around the edges, but he still cares for you greatly, the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable. When he parts and sees his purple lipstick smudged onto your pretty, parted lips… it is a divine test of his self-control. That mental image has never left him. He's stuck between not feeling worthy of your affection and wanting to kiss you until the pigment stains your lips a deeper color. It's a dilemma. If he isn't constantly distracting himself, his mind runs off to fantasize.
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