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risuola · 1 year

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SAY MY NAME — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who you matched with on the dating app

Internet is such a weird place. Never in your life you thought that you'd go to bed with a complete stranger that you met through the internet, but when you found yourself standing in front of the room in one of the most expensive hotels in Tokyo, you somehow thought now more about the man himself than the very obvious fact that you should not go but run home. But then he opened the door.

cw: smut (duh), anonymous, overstimulation, one night stand, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering, cum play if you squint, strangers to lovers? (I couldn’t help myself), reader discretion is advised — 7,8k words

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Avoiding strangers was like a second nature to you – you were taught from the youngest age that danger awaits on each and every corner of the world, especially when the night falls, and you lived your life to dodge it. Years and years you isolated yourself from risks, you stayed at home when your friends partied, you drank modestly, while they were blacking out. You were responsible enough to never get yourself into any serious trouble. But those things are what makes you gravely boring, and your closest friend made sure you taste some fun.

That’s how you ended up in front of a room 777 in one of the most expensive hotels in Tokyo. Everything around you dripped with luxury – the dark, marbled floors glossed to the perfection despite many shoes that walked through them hundreds of times every day; the deep green walls garnished beautifully with decorative, golden panels at the very top of them; the intricate crystal chandeliers twinkling with the most expensive rainbows in the soft light, lighting your way from the elevator through the long hall. Your high heels tapped softly against the gleaming tiles with every step you took, echoing in the silence of the corridors. And then, there’s the door – large and crafted from dark, nearly black oak wood with dainty, golden numbers situated on the top half of them.

While you studied the twirly, and yet simple font of the digits, you couldn’t help but wonder if the echo of your quickened heartbeat also bounced along the halls. You for sure heard it a little too clearly in your ears, someone could probably scream next to you and the sound of blood being pumped inside your veins would make you deaf to that. Was it stress or excitement, you couldn’t tell. You were just so out of place here – not only in the ridiculously overpriced interiors but also in the situation itself.

"Go and have as much fun as you can", your friend told you just few hours ago when you were nervously getting ready for a date that you set yourself up with a complete stranger from the internet. You met him through the dating app that your bestie forcefully installed on your phone, creating an account for you and swiping right on everyone that she deemed even remotely attractive. It wasn’t your thing, you never tried online matching, but to avoid hours of lecture about how your boringness will one day kill you, you went with it. Exchanging few anonymous messages with strangers couldn’t hurt, right? You might even meet someone valuable there – that’s what you thought, but quickly it turned out that men in the internet tend to send dick pics quicker then they say hello, and that wasn’t exactly what you wanted to see. But then, there he was. Another man that swiped right on you and you really have no idea how it came to the fact that now you were in the hotel, just one piece of wood away from him. He didn’t give you his name, he never send you any picture and was way too honest about what he expects from you, but maybe that was what intrigued you. No unnecessary saccharine, no charming words – just straight up offer and maybe it’s due the three shots of vodka that your friend poured into you, but you typed “I’m in, where?” quicker than you could sober up. When you did, it was too late for backing out.

Many things were running through your mind as you mindlessly looked at the seemingly lucky trio of sevens at the entrance to your one-night fling. There was the obvious fear that you were indoctrinated with from childhood that meeting strangers inevitably leads to abuse, trafficking and death and to say that the vision of yourself in a body bag didn’t cross your mind would be an awful lie, but you did everything to distract yourself from it – and by everything, you mean babbling with your friend. She was more excited than you for that date but probably expected you to chicken out anyway. She even told you that she’ll stay on standby to pick you up from the hotel and cheer you up if things go wrong – she was also ready to storm in and kill the dude.

Next thing that worried you was the lack of pictures – he was apparently a 28-year-old man, handsome – if you were to believe him, and yet, you had no proof of that. He might as well be an old, greasy perv hunting on young ladies. You should turn around and make your way to the nearest exit, that’s what you should do. But you didn’t. Instead, you smoothed out light-blue dress that you decided to wear, you brushed your hair back with your fingers and took a deep breath, raising a hand in which you clutched the key card to unlock the doors.

You didn’t reach the electronic lock, because dark oak in front of you swung open and what met your eyes exceeded all of your expectations. He was tall, much taller than you, his head almost as high as the upper doorframe. White hair were framing his incredibly handsome features. It honestly shocked you how good looking he was – the eyes, so mystically blue, as if the entire ocean flowed and twinkled inside his irises, surrounded by long, white eyelashes. Straight nose, lips that looked softer than you’d consider legal amount and the face that although manly, held some femininity to it, making him look just unreal. His body, slim and visibly fit, dressed half-casually in simple dark pants and the light-blue button-up shirt tucked into them. His sleeves were rolled up enough to expose his forearms and two buttons from the top were left open. Quickly, you understood why he spared any pictures in his profile. He had to. You weren’t sure if the app could withstand the demand he’d have if he published his visuals.

“Hey there, stranger.” The man smiled, his eyes scanning your silhouette from your head to your toes and right back up and by the content painted on his lips, you assumed he wasn’t disappointed with the view. You for sure were not disappointed with him. “Thought you’ll never enter so I figured I might as well let you in myself.”

“S-sorry,” you muttered and cleared your throat from the pathetic stutter that seemed to take the best of you. Then, you tried again. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no worries, sweet thing. Come inside.” With that, he moved slightly to the side, and you made a step forward, crossing the threshold and entering the beautiful suite that he chose himself. You were told at the reception that it’s one of the most luxurious apartments in the building because of the stunning view that spreads itself through the big, full-wall-sized windows. It was, indeed, breathtaking, and for just a moment it distracted you from your date. You put your little bag down and allowed him to take off your jacket before you approached the panorama behind the clear glass. Night sky illuminated magically, influenced by the cacophony of colors that radiated from the never-sleeping city below it. Tokyo during late hours was one of the most mind-blowing images an eye can experience – it’s bright and vibrant, filled with neon lights and colorful banners that in the darkness grow even more vibrant.

Satoru watched the way your hips swayed left and right while you made your way slowly towards the windows. He couldn’t blame you; the view was impressive and put it on the many times he’s seen it, but he found you much more interesting. You were more than he expected, taught by the way women edit their pictures to look better than they usually are, but you – you were more gorgeous than on the picture that your profile was equipped with. In all honesty, if it was only for the photo, he probably wouldn’t even swipe for you – it wasn’t the sharpest, the light was shit, your face wasn’t all that visible and it looked like it was taken in a rush, maybe even by surprise (which it was), but there was something so raw about it that interested him. But live? Fuck, he was hard from the moment he saw you and it never happened to him before. Usually, he’s the one that needs some work to get properly aroused during those flings – often he’s straight up unable to find the person attractive enough to pursue with the night and he excuses himself with some shitty bluff about his sick grandmother. Now, as he had a chance to inhale the sweet, floral scent of your perfume, that his fingers brushed against the bare skin of your shoulders when he took your jacket off, that his eyes were able to take all of you in, he wanted nothing more than to be inside of you already. And probably, he would if not for the visible nervousness, so he took this little bit of time you needed to admire the panorama of Tokyo to admire the picture of you.

He had no idea why you chose to wear a dress that matched his eyes so perfectly without ever seeing them, but just as his eyes laid on your frame with ease, so was the garment. It was short, but somehow still looked innocent on you. The fabric hugged your waist tightly, flaring up slightly below it, crating a skirt that flowed with the movements of your steps, bouncing slightly off your hips, hypnotizing him with each sway. The top half fitted your chest perfectly, the ruched details adding even more volume to your breast and the low, square-ish neckline accentuating your collarbones and shoulders. Two, slightly puffy, short sleeves added you some innocence that Satoru couldn’t wait to stain, but for now, he needed to have a taste of you.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” The soft, honeyed tone reached your ears once again and you could tell there was the slightest line of amusement underneath the pleasurable melody of his words. His voice was just as attractive as the rest of him, you just met him and already knew that you could listen to it every day if given a chance. A soft purr formulated in your throat at the feeling of his lips pressed to the side of your neck, from where he gently pushed your hair away. The gesture so feather-like and yet it sent shivers down your spine, making you suddenly hyperaware of his entire being next to you.

“It is.” You gave it a nod, feeling another sparkle of excitement rushing through your nervous system, when his hand landed on the small of your back and smoothed to the side to caress your hip. Another kiss, this time a little wetter, a little more intense was planted on your neck and you exhaled.

“Call me unoriginal, but I truly think you’re prettier,” he muttered against your skin, inhaling the sweet note of your perfume, his fingers squeezed the soft flesh of your side as he pulled you a little bit closer.

“I’m not going to lie, you also top that view by a mile.” It left your lips in a tone that mixed with your breath. Encouraged by his movements, you shifted your stance to face him completely, leaning your head back enough to give him the access to your throat, where few more wet marks appeared in no time. Then he straightened up, looking at your face once again and underneath his now darkened gaze, you felt the knot already tying itself up at the bottom of your stomach. There was something unreal with the way he was staring at you – an admiration stirring with the blue of his irises that surprised you. Why would a man like this look at you as if he wanted to devour you on the spot?

“Is that so?” He grinned, a smug expression twisting his features into a sexy smirk.

“I’m almost unsure if I can even touch you.” Your confession made him chuckle. His large palms left your waist only to grab your, much smaller hands, placing them onto his own body and as he moved them down slowly, you could tell he was just as toned as he looked like – or maybe more. Rock hard muscles bulged underneath your fingertips, fueling the want you already were filled up with.

“I assure you, I want nothing more than your touch,” he purred once more, lowering his head and instinctively, you leaned in to meet his lips halfway, but he stopped right before they touched. “If there’s any hesitation, you can still leave, I won’t stop you. But when we start, you’re stuck with me until morning.”

You took a moment to look into his eyes. You weren’t sure if the nervousness that you still felt was tied to the nature of that meeting – you were here to have sex with him, it wasn’t a proper date with talking, coffee or a dinner. It was said from the beginning, he was very clear about it. Although the few texts that you exchanged felt nice, all he wanted from you was a fling and you agreed to that, but fact was, you’ve never done this before. Even with your previous boyfriends, it always took you some time to get intimate and here, you consented to fuck a man you knew nothing about. Part of you wondered if you’ll even be able to meet his expectations – a man like him could have any woman he liked and yet he chose you from the ocean of girls probably way more willing than you. The other part though, was already burning from excitement. The foreign adventure awoke something primal in you and if not for the last drops of composure, it’s likely that you’d already be bouncing on him.

“I don’t want to leave,” you nearly whispered, cupping the side of his gorgeous face and he pressed his lips softly to the heel of your palm. Your answer seemed to satisfy him, because after that, he closed the distance between your mouths, clashing them in a hungry kiss.

First few seconds were experimental. Satoru needed to see if you are firm in your decision, because as much as he wanted to fuck you unconscious, he also had no wish to force you to do so and for him, it was more than clear that it is your first time with a stranger in a hotel room. But when your hands reached up, brushing through his hair and pulling him even closer, he let go of all brakes.

The kiss quickly turned into a mess, teeth clashing and tongues dancing a fiery tango, while he already began messing with your dress. It was pretty, you looked stunning in it, but it would look even better off of you. Luckily for him, the fabric was easy to peel off and the reveal of a white, lacey lingerie set almost made him moan into your mouth. He forced himself away just to take a good look on you, and while he did that, you pushed him back. Gojo’s shirt was already mostly unbuttoned so he went ahead and took it off completely, throwing the light fabric away from the bed. Allowing himself to fall onto the bouncy mattress, followed your silhouette attentively. His own pants became way to tight, uncomfortably straining his brick hard cock in the cage of black cotton but he couldn’t focus on it too much, when you looked like this right in front of him.

Having just one night with him, you wanted to waste no time. You were sure that it’s the first time you’re doing this whole fling with a stranger, and the last time at the same time – there was, after all, slim chance you’d ever match with a man like him again, and the expectations bar is set up very, very high and you didn’t even know his name. Yours was written in your bio but his was hidden and during your brief texting, he told you that he’s not going to tell you any detail about himself.

For Satoru, it was safer – his position in the world of sorcerers was way to significant to risk anyone’s safety just so they can feel “connection” for few hours while they’re fucking. Knowing his personal information, it wasn’t all that hard to find him and last thing he wanted was some random girl searching for him later, possibly putting herself into danger or worse. But you… For some reason, despite every rule he had set with himself, he wished you’d know his name. He wished to hear you moan it later, to breathe it out, to scream it even. It’d sound like music, he was sure of it.

“Enjoying the view?” You asked, chuckling lightly when his eyes scanned your figure up and down.

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, reaching to grab you and in just a second, you were on his lap, your back pressed to his chest and your ass sat down straight onto his crotch. Little gasp escaped your mouth at the feeling of his hard size and he exhaled as well, when you swayed your hips against him. His hands began roaming all over your body, tracing patterns all over your skin and squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts in his large palms. He smeared wet kisses along your neck and shoulders, your jaw and back; the softest whines and whimpers escaping his mouth as you grinded gently against his clothed cock. You could tell he’s big, it only fitted for his dick to be as impressive as the rest of him and you could feel your mouth watering just at the thought of him. Some part of your brain still couldn’t believe that you had this man only to yourself for that night. It really was a win, you’d have to buy your bestie a coffee next time you see her.

The way you moved your hips against his pants made Satoru lose his mind. It’s been years since he felt like he could finish in his boxers without even being properly touched, like a horny teenager watching some stupid sex scene in the movie and way you were awakening his entire body made him euphoric.

“Fuck, so big,” you muttered, reaching back to palm him through his trousers.

“Wanna taste it?” He offered and it surprised him how fast you were on your knees, not caring at all about the hard wooden floors that will surely bruise you harshly. While your dainty fingers worked the belt, button and the zipper of his pants, you took that time to press some wet kisses onto his stomach, that you were convinced, the gods carved themselves from the finest marble.

His cock sprung free the moment you pulled down the fabrics of his trousers and underwear, the tip of it hit the hard muscle of his abs and the sheer size of him terrified you for a moment. He not only had the impressive length, but he also was girthy. The pink skin stretching around the veiny base, leading to the slightly darker tip, already leaking and angry from the anticipation. After seeing so many dick pics during your little trial of dating apps you were certain that nothing will really impress you and yet, he did just that. He was mouthwatering and so pretty. He wasn’t going to fit you, he was at least twice as much as any of your previous boyfriends – there was no way he’ll be able to push into you, but you were more than willing to let him try, and if he tears you apart while doing so, then you’ll probably still thank him. But that’s an issue for later. Now, you were growing hungry to taste him.

Satoru smirked smugly seeing the glisten of fear in your eyes. Not that he wanted you to be scared, but he couldn’t deny that it tickled his ego. Just to reassure you, he gave your head a stroke, smoothing over your hair as your cold hand wrapped around his girth, giving it an experimental pump just to feel him. Then you leaned in, parting your mouth and stroking the underside of his length with your tongue, from the base up to the tip where you swirled the tip of your muscle around just to then plant a sucking kiss there. He panted in delight, sharp tendrils of pleasure rushing through his body. There was something that indicated the lack of experience in the way you took him into your mouth and at the same time, he felt like it’s a natural talent of yours. You worked your way all over him as if you were devouring the most delicious, melting ice cream, licking the sides and sucking the tip. Where your lips couldn’t reach, you used your hand, pumping the remaining inches and playfully massaging his balls, absorbing the rewarding groans and whimpers from above you.

“Fuck, yes, so fucking amazing,” he was praising you, hand resting on the back of your head but putting no pressure to what you were doing. He didn’t need to, you were just perfect, he loved every single move of your tongue against his cock, every graze of your teeth, every suck and kitten lick. His head fell back, when the tip of him hit the back of your throat, his dick twitched and flexed in your grip and you took it as invitation to pick up the intensity. You pumped him harder, you took him deeper, you wanted more of his whines. “Oh my fucking god,” were his final words before he was cumming, white ribbons of hot seed shooting into your mouth as you stroked him through it, prolonging his release as much as you were able to. Salty taste of him spread all over your throat, some of it spilling through the corner of your mouth and running down your chin as you took him out of your lips with a loud pop. Once you swallowed, you made sure to lick him clean, your hunger for him still unsatiated.

Giving him a moment to catch his breath, you got rid of his trousers completely. The taste of him still prominent over your tongue when he looked down on you, grinning widely with a satisfied look on his face. He gathered the lone drop of his cum from the side of your chin and you were more than happy to take his thumb into your mouth, sucking onto it softly and cleaning it.

“God, you’re so nasty. I love it,” he purred, leaning down and grabbing you by the hips. With ease he raised you from the floor and put on the bed, immediately climbing on top of you. He didn’t need much to grow hard once again, just the sight of your beautiful body was enough for him to go all night. “It’s gorgeous, but I’m sure it’ll look better somewhere else.” Mumbling, he was squeezing his hands underneath your back and you arched it for him, giving him access to the clasp of your bra. He took it off quickly, immediately forgetting about his plan to take the panties off as well, when your breasts bounced free. Your fingernails brushed through his hair, scratching at his scalp when he began kissing and licking and sucking at the plump flesh of your chest, toying with your nipples with his mouth and fingers.

His hand shifted lower, smoothing over your stomach and down, right where you wanted him the most. His long fingers brushed over your folds, still covered by the thin layer of white lace, now nearly translucent from how soaked it was already. You could feel his lips curving up when he realized how aroused you were, how you wanted him as much as he wanted you and having no patience and reason to touch you through your panties, he pulled them off with one swift movement.

Satoru found your lips again, kissing you with even more hunger than before. Allowing his digits run up and down your slit he slid with ease with how wet you were. You moaned softly into his lips when he began toying with your clit, circling his fingertips around it, pressing and swirling them, making your thighs shiver and tremble below him. You squeezed his shoulders, tensing repeatedly as he was abusing the sensitive bud. With every jolt of your body, you felt the warmth flooding your system, the euphoric haze overpowering your senses, slowly rendering your brain into a heated mush. It wasn’t that long since he began and already you could feel yourself dangerously close to the edge or pleasure. With every skillful circle of his fingers, you felt like he’s pushing you to fall down into the ocean of extasy.

Your eyes squeezed shut, you couldn’t focus on his lips over yours, so he moved his head to the side to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. He wasn’t meaning to mark you but couldn’t help but to leave few reddish spots over the delicious layer of your skin. Any last bit of composure snapped as the orgasm overtook you. You came all over his fingers, your thighs shivering and your vision completely blurry.

While you whined and panted, Gojo found himself even more desperate to hear his name slipping off that tongue of yours and if the consequence of this will haunt him in the future, then so be it.

“Satoru,” he purred right into your ear. “My name is Satoru.”

You registered that, you really did, but all what left your mouth in that very second was an incoherent hum that made him chuckle. Moving downwards, Gojo quickly found his place between the plush of your thighs, giving your still throbbing, swollen clit an experimental lick. You almost jumped at the feeling, your oversensitive bud threatened to make you cum for the second time right away, but he couldn’t care less about you coming down from your high. Instead, he wanted you to dive down into the depth of euphoria and so he slid one of his long fingers into your clenching hole. Immediately, your velvety walls hugged his digit, your slick covering him completely as he began moving it in and out. He kept his mouth occupied with your puffy clit, licking and sucking at it, writing the letters of his own name right onto it with the tip of his tongue and you grabbed a handful of his hair trying to stop him before you explode.

Keeping your trembling thighs apart, he added the second finger with ease, pushing them as far as he could, curling them inside you and hitting the spots you didn’t even know you had. Your sweet juices were coating his face as he sucked and slurped them greedily, slowly becoming pussy drunk from the way you tasted on his mouth. If not for the way his cock twitched against the mattress, he would have happily stayed between your legs for the rest of the night, listening to his name slipping repeatedly through your lips.

Your second orgasm hit you like a train, catapulting you right into the outer space, and for a moment you were certain you couldn’t still be on earth. How else could you explain the white constellations of stars that were spreading in the front of your vision? Satoru laughed, satisfied and still buried deep into your cunt, drinking every drop he could, with his fingers still moving in and out of you. You tried to squeeze him with your thighs, to stop him from literally killing you, because you couldn’t take the third one right after the previous two, but he was determined to prove you wrong.

Slowly adding the third finger, he stretched you even more. The burning sensation made you cry out as he picked up the pace. Even his hand was a lot, his digits long and perfectly working along your sensitive insides. Wet sounds of your pussy filled in the air, accompanying your pants and whines and the filthy noises of his mouth abusing your clit once again. It took him no time to have you cumming again, it almost hurt with how good it felt, and he pulled not only the third release from you, but also fourth. You really needed a break. With a harsh pull of his hair, you forced him up and he chuckled with content. He was breathing quickly as well, completely drunk from your sweet juices, euphoria now flowing through his veins instead of blood.

He pulled away his fingers and a cute pout formed on your lips at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

“How sweet you are,” he cooed, his tone breathy as he pushed his digits over your mouth. You took them in quickly, licking away your arousal, before he retracted his hand and kissed you fervently. The tastes now coated both of your tongues in a filthy mixture of sex and pleasure. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, yes,” you mumbled feverishly, following his lips, yearning for the soft feeling of them against yours. You felt lightheaded, the world outside the bed you were in didn’t exist to you, all you knew and wanted was a man, a stranger from the internet that was above you. His strong, sculpted body caressing yours, his tongue licking its way right into your soul and his insanely attractive voice purring the filthiest things right into your ear. For that night, he was your one and only and for that night, you were his.

Gojo pumped his length few times, smearing the precum and your sleek along it before he pressed the tip against your hole. With lust heavy in his eyes, he slowly pushed in, growling lowly at how tightly you hugged him and biting onto the supple flesh of your breast just to ground himself before he cum prematurely. You gasped at the way he tore into you, little by little pushing himself deeper and deeper.

“Fuck, so tight,” he stammered, sucking on a breath as his voice broke off to a groan. “And I’m not even halfway in.”

You muttered something – babbled, unable to form anything coherent and the way you looked like your soul was leaving your frame woke something primal in him. Satoru grabbed at your hip with one of his large hands, the digits digging into your flesh with bruising force as he playfully grinned, counting “one, two” before pushing in all the way. You trembled from under him, arching your back and throwing your head back just enough to have him glued to your throat, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. Your clenching walls rid him of the lasts of his composure, as soon as he bottomed out, he began losing himself in the feeling of your body. He pulled out almost completely only to sink back fully, initiating the first thrust that pulled a loud moan from your lips.

“Say my name,” he pleaded, his tone underlined with desperation and lust as he repeated the motion once again.

“Satoru.” You obeyed, prompting him to pick up the pace. In no time, he was fucking into you with all the strength he had in his toned body, his knuckles turning white from the forceful hold he had on your hip. He kept you in place, your legs wide open and his thrusts unforgivable. He was ruthless, completely overtaken by the immense, absolute bliss of euphoria, the chase of pleasure motivating his pelvis to keep driving into you.

Your mind was emptied of everything that wasn’t him, the heated flurry of erotic haze overflowing your head and pouring down, pooling in your stomach. His pace was relentless, with every roll of his hips he stroked your walls just right, kissing every oversensitive spot inside of you with the delicious girth of his cock. It’s like he spoke in the very same language as your body, it’s like he was made, sculpted exactly in the way to fill you up to the brim with such perfection.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face as the force of his hips picked up. The intense pace he’s challenged himself along with the crushing flexes of your pussy rendered him into the whining and groaning mess. Every needy flex of your walls made him go more and more feral, an overwhelming pleasure sending a hot rush of bliss throughout his nervous system. The very same impulses were jolting along your spine, sharp tendrils of hot extasy made you squeeze his shoulders and dig your nails into his strong muscles.

Satoru pushed your legs up, pressing your thighs to your chest and angling his hips in a way that has his cock slamming against your sweet spots. He was thrusting into you even deeper, although you didn’t think that’s even possible. The blunt head of his dick kissed every part of your insides as his pace began to stutter. It became desperate, fervent, somehow even rougher. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. A prayer of his name was leaving your lips without your knowledge, steadily pushing him off the edge with every syllable that your sweet voice created.

You nearly screamed when the string of pleasure snapped, an orgasm overtook you in hot waves of bliss and he was quick to follow, gritting his teeth as he dumbly pistoned his cock into you, smearing slick all over himself and your thighs. The flexes of your walls made his head fall back. His slams slowed down, became sloppier and languid; the uneven movement that carried both you and him through the highs of your blisses. Your legs fell down and he collapsed on top of you, supporting himself on his elbow to not crash you completely.

You wrapped your arms around him, allowing him to rest on your chest to catch his breath. Your heartbeat was fast, erratic even and your vision was blurry. You were drowning in the ocean of an utter satisfaction and you had no wish to swim back up.

“Think you have more in you?” He asked after few minutes of calm. His muscles flexed as he was lifting himself up above you once again and he pressed a kiss to your lips. “I hope you do. We’re not done.”

That night you went few more rounds, each one seemingly more intense than the previous one. You lost count of how many times you came; you had no idea how many times he came as well. The sky above Tokyo slowly became lighter, the sun raised up from the horizon line signaling the beginning of a new day, but to you, the previous one continued. The perception of time was the last thing you had in your mind, when Satoru’s body was so close to yours. You were a mess and so was he, in a cacophony of lust driven whimpers and groaned praises, the wet sounds of skin slapping, the ragged grunts and shaky exhales, you two fulfilled the deepest needs. Souls stripped bare, bodies connected and yet still longing for more, lips never wanting to part from one another. All of that finally led you to the point of not being able to continue.

Your entire body hurt, your muscles were sore, your throat dried and your pussy aching. You were exhausted, feeling like you could pass out any second and thankfully, Satoru was just as tired as you. Breaking another one of his rules, the one to never stay in bed with his flings, he now pushed himself further to take you to bathroom for the quick shower, just to wash away the filth that covered your bodies, before laying you down on the mattress. He threw away the messy cover and laid with you, using the second one to keep you warm. Although it was day already, you still had few hours before needing to leave the suite, so he might as well sleep with you. You were gone the second you cuddled to his chest and he followed you quickly.

“Hey, gorgeous, wake up.” Satoru’s soft tone pulled you from the dreamland and if you were to be honest, you could wake up to his voice. Wiping the sleep away from your eyes, you raised up on the elbow to look at him. He was already dressed, somewhat pulled together, looking just as handsome as when you saw him for the first time, although his shirt was more wrinkled and the skin underneath his eyes just a tad bit darker. “Get up, we need to leave.”

At first, it confused you a little, but then you glanced to the side where the electronic clock was showing 9:26am. You should probably get out until 10, so the cleaning team can enter and prepare the suite for another guest. It made sense, but what made for a bigger surprise was that he still was there. You fully expected him to be gone before you open your eyes, you thought you’ll never see him again after that night, and yet there he was, waiting for you to get up.

To be fair, Satoru could have, and even planned to vanish before you wake up. He was ready to pay for another day in the suite only to let you sleep him off properly. He didn’t think he’ll even stay in bed with you after fucking, but if it was any other woman, he’d be out the door first chance he had – he never liked the awkwardness that come after the sex with a stranger. He hated those odd, pseudo-polite questions, he never truly knew how to act to not hurt the person and at the same time, not seed any false hopes, because he had no wish to settle with any of his affairs. But you were different, and he had no idea why. For you he was willing to break all of his rules, he wanted to be there when you wake up, to see the tiredness painting through your beautiful features, to leave the hotel with you and spend just as much time as he could breathing the same air as you. He hoped that maybe he’ll get lucky enough to kiss you one more time before parting ways.

You gathered yourself up, giving yourself one more quick rinse under the shower and putting on your clothes. You looked ok, considering what happened – the ice-cold water woke you up quickly. Smoothing your dress, and brushing your fingers through your hair, you left the bathroom, ready to get out of here. Satoru helped you with your jacket, handed you your bag and then put the dark, round sunglasses into the pocket on the front of his shirt. The day before you noticed the shades laying on the table.

“How are you feeling?” He asked in the elevator as he pressed the button with 0 printed on it, making the lift head down towards the lobby.

“I’m sore as if I just went through a triathlon, but other than that, I’m feeling good,” you replied in a light tone, smiling softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing. Though I feel like I went through that triathlon with you.” His remark made you chuckle, and Gojo felt like the entire tension left his body along with the fear of the awkward conversations. You two went through the lobby with ease, he gave the keycards to the receptionist and led you out of the hotel.

“So, Satoru,” you began, looking up at him. In the broad daylight you noticed the slight lavender undertone to his hair. His eyes glistened even more beautifully in the sun, although for a moment you wondered if he maybe needed the glasses to protect those eyes. You decided against asking about it. “Thank you for that night. It really was incredible.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he smiled softly, his fingertips brushing against your cheekbone and before you knew it, you leaned into the warm touch of his hand. “I hope you’ll forget about me quickly.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget about you,” you confessed, but smile never left your mouth. “But I won’t be searching for you.”

“That’ll be better for you, sweet thing.” Gojo sighed, realizing that he will never forget that night either. Before that, he couldn’t recall the name of any of his flings – sometimes he couldn’t even remember it during the meeting, but yours engraved itself into his mind permanently. But no matter how badly he’d want to continue this thing with you, see where it’ll go, he couldn’t. Being with him would make the rest of your life a constant risk, and it already was selfish of him to stand publicly and talk with you. He cleared his throat, pushing all of those thoughts away as he lightened his tone. “So, that was your first time with a stranger from the internet, huh?”

“Yeah… Honestly, it wasn’t even exactly my idea. My friend set up my account, apparently, I was too boring to be alive and in desperate need of some fun, or something like this. I’ll probably delete the app from my phone today though, I don’t think those dating sites are really for me.”

“I see. Well, I guess that’s dangerous to meet random people like this after all.”

“Also, how could anyone reach the bar of expectations after you,” you joked and he laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, right, that’s reasonable. Alrighty, guess it’s time for me to go.”

“Sure.”

“Will you be okay?”

“No worries, I’ll get home on my own, Satoru.”

Satoru. He was right, his name sounded like music when spoken in your voice. There was some underlying care and softness to your tone when you addressed him, even if it wasn’t intentional. He wished to hear it more, he wished he had more time.

“Take care, alright?” He smiled, putting on his glasses. They were dark enough for you to not see his eyes anymore.

“You too.”

“Goodbye, y/n.”

“Goodbye, Satoru.”

He didn’t kiss you. The warmth of your skin lingered on his fingers as he was walking away, a direction completely opposite to the one you went. Fuck, he didn’t even hug you.

You texted your friend on your way home, telling her that you’re okay and deleting the hundreds of missed calls that she spammed you during the night and morning. You couldn’t blame her, you went missing for the entire evening and up until now, you gave no sign of being alive. You promised her to send a text yesterday, assuming that the date won’t be too entertaining, but turned out, it was. With a sigh, you threw the phone into your bag, looking up at the sky. It was blue and clear, just as beautiful as the eyes of a man that you were meant to never see again. It pained you, and you didn’t know why. You really had no idea who he was, all you knew about him was his name, his age and his length, but other than that, you couldn’t describe him as a person to save your life. You had no idea what color he likes, what food he enjoys, what movies he watches and what’s his job – you knew how he tastes, how he feels and how he kisses. It really was just sex. Then why did you feel so void in the heart?

“Yeah, yeah.” Satoru mumbled to the phone. It was Yaga calling, wanting him to come to work today even though it was one of not many days off he had. Apparently something happened, although he couldn’t make out what exactly happened. It didn’t sound so urgent, really, it didn’t sound interesting enough for Gojo to rush to school. “Yeah, actually, I’m quite busy today, you know?” He tried, but the yelling on the other side of the line only increased and if it wasn’t for his sensei, he would just hang up. Not many people had the privilege of scolding him so openly.

“Satoru, focus, it’s import-“

Oh, fuck it.

“Sorry, sensei, something’s breaking up!” He disconnected the call and turned around. He couldn’t see you in the crowd anymore, but rushed back anyway, pushing through the ocean of people. He really wanted that kiss. And that hug. And you. Even if that meant he’ll have to protect you for the rest of his life, he was willing to take that risk.

He found you few streets further, waiting on the bus stop, reading the schedule, probably searching for the nearest one. You were on the phone with someone, drinking water from the bottle that you probably bought on your way. Then the green vehicle approached and you made few steps to get in, waiting just for people to get out first.

“Y/n!”, he called, but you didn’t hear him, probably because of the phone call. “Y/n, wait!”

“Huh?” This time you heard something and stopped mid-step, looking around and searching for the voice. Once you found him, rushing towards you, your gaze lightened up and it only made him go quicker.

When Satoru reached you, his hands immediately wrapped around your middle, pulling you into his chest fervently and you cradled his face with as much of your hand as you could, keeping your phone in it still, with your friend on the line. You couldn’t care about her rambling, when he was kissing you like he just saw the love of his life for the first time in years. For that moment, you felt like you’re inside the low budget rom-com, like you’re one of those fictional characters that find love at the first sight – the ones that you always make fun of, because there’s no such thing as love at the first sight. Life is far from the reality of those romantic shows that young girls love so much.

“Satoru, what are you doing?” You asked him, catching your breath when he parted his lips from yours just enough to allow himself to speak.

“You might be in danger if you keep seeing me. Fuck, you most likely will be in danger if you keep seeing me. But I can protect you. I’m able to keep you safe if-“, voice got stuck in his throat, but the encouraging smoothing of your fingers on his cheek pushed him to finish. “If you’ll trust me and be willing to… We could go grab some breakfast, for starters. What do you think?”

“I trust you, Satoru,” you replied with your voice calm. “And breakfast sounds perfect.”

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bucci-cookies · 2 years

Text

A Trip To Naples - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

Here is a commission piece I did where the reader goes on a trip to Italy and falls in love with a lovely stranger :)

Naples: the birthplace of pizza, home of the famous Amalfi Coast and, of course, the destination of your impulsive getaway. With the stress of work pushing down on your shoulders, you needed some sort of break; those winning tickets couldn’t have come at a better time. Three weeks living in the bustling Campanian city in an all-expenses paid hotel was a perfect way to spend your annual vacation time.

One of the highlights of Naples was its colourful markets: picturesque stalls and shops lining the cobblestoned streets selling various trinkets, clothing and flowers. You found yourself in the Market of Antignano, deep in the centre of Vomero. The jovial sellers beckoned you over to look at the various slippers, cosmetics and linen sitting on the displays, eager to squeeze some money out of you before lunch. An elderly woman with thick black hair selling keyrings waved at you, shaking one of them in her hand. It was a cute little thing, a brown plastic bear holding a red heart between its paws, all connected to the metal ring. You figured that you might as well replace your old worn-out one with a new souvenir.

“Questo è perfetto per voi zucca!” She smiled, placing the ring in your hand. To your knowledge, she said it was perfect for you.

“Il mio Italiano…non è buono” You laughed awkwardly. The only fault in this seemingly perfect holiday was that you only had very little knowledge of the language. You could say enough to scrape by, but in this case, you found it easier to say you don’t know the language well.

“Ah! You speak English, zucca?” The woman asked, not phased by your inability to speak her Italian.

You sighed loudly, thankful that you could converse in a language you understood. “Yes, I do. Sorry, this is my first time in Italy.”

“Oh? How lovely!” She beamed, giving you a toothy grin. She looked down at her watch, 1 pm, almost time to close up for today. "Have you got somewhere to go for lunch?"

"Nowhere, in particular. I'll just walk around and see what looks nice." You had researched local places to eat earlier. Most of them were within the same vicinity so you planned to go to whatever seemed less busy to avoid long queues.

"Zucca, you must go to Libeccio!" She shook your hand, almost like her life depended on you going there. "It's marvellous, oh you'll love it!" She squealed. "Plus," She said with a smirk, "it's owned by such a sweet young man, Bucciarati. He's so graceful and kind, you’ll love him!”

You remember searching up Libeccio - it was a beautiful restaurant, though you were worried it was a little out of your price range. It screamed expensive from the pictures you saw online. Well, you were on holiday, you might as well allow a little bit of luxury. You paid for the keyring, placing it in the side pocket of your bag before waving the kind woman off as she packed up her stall for the day.

Libeccio was about a ten-minute walk away, allowing you to explore parts of the region a bit more. You took note of some stylish boutiques along the way, thinking about how your wardrobe could do with a revamp. As well as some grocery stores for if you ever needed a snack.

Libeccio, unsurprisingly, was an Italianate-style building. Bay windows with pink and shamrock-like decorative window trims along both stories of the tawny-coloured building. The inside had half-cream half-dark oak walls, and a soft crimson carpet covering the entire dining area. It was a little intimidating to see so many well-dressed people sitting together. Eating meals you probably couldn’t pronounce and drinking wines you had never heard of. You felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. You swallowed the lump in your throat and made your way to the waiting table where one of the floor workers stood, writing some notes in a large black book. He greeted you with a wide smile as his hazel eyes and tanned skin shone under the bright lights that reflected off his silver name badge that read ‘Alejandro’. He held up a finger, presumably asking you if you were the only diner, to which you nodded. Before you could get a word in, he placed you on a two-seater table near one of the windows with a menu and a glass of water to get you started.

You opened the sleek black booklet, revealing extensive lists of appetisers, starters, mains and desserts, all in clean, fancy, Italian writing. The best thing you could do was whip out Google and try to search for all these meals. You tried to note what sounded best, whittling down the list as best as you could, but you barely scratched the surface of the menu when the waiter returned, asking if you would like to order. With an embarrassed blush, you tried to explain how you were struggling to read the menu. But it seemed like he couldn’t understand you, especially over the noisy restaurant.

You didn’t notice that this interaction had caught the attention of a group of men who sat a couple of tables down from yours. “Scusi.” A sultry voice said. You looked up to see a tall man with darker skin standing next to the waiter. The mas w `A`1as dressed in a cropped sweater and sleek black jeans, offering a perfect view of his toned abdomen. His hair was thick and curly, framing his roundish face and drawing attention to his dark eyes. The man whispered something to the waiter, making him run off, before pulling a chair next to you.

“Buongiorno signora. Are you having trouble with your menu? I see you switching between it and your phone.” Before you could begin to question who this man was and how he knew you would speak English, he took the menu from your hands and began flicking through the pages before tapping one of the options. “This is gravlax bella, it's just cured salmon, comes in thin slices.” He turned over the page. “Ah and capricciosa! You’ve got mushroom, artichokes, baked ham, olives, my absolute favourite!” He said with gusto as he scooched a little closer to you. Truth be told, you didn’t feel too comfortable in this situation, a strange man in a strange country acting so familiar with you made you uneasy. And the way he so easily managed to get rid of the waiter rubbed you the wrong way, who knows what his intentions were? You simply tucked your lips in and nodded at his rambling about the menu, thankful that you at least had some options to order.

You avoided eye contact with the strange man until suddenly his voice stopped. You looked over to see another man standing behind him, one with lighter skin and short black hair. “Mista,” He sighed, his voice a smooth baritone, “la stai mettendo a disagio.” He whispered with a smile, squeezing the man’s shoulder. Instantly he looked back at you, bowing his head.

“I’m so sorry signora, I’ll get out of your way!” He dropped the menu back on the table and walked back to his original seat. He was met with the disapproving headshakes of the third man on the table. The new man moved the chair back to its original place opposite you before holding out a hand.

“Bruno Bucciarati, I’m the owner.” He shot you a dazzling smile. Thankful that he was at least affiliated with the restaurant and not another stranger, you calmly shook his hand. You had to admit, the woman from the market was right, he was handsome. His frame was tall and lean and he had a certain youthful essence in his speech and gestures. His hair was cut to his shoulders, neatly styled to form bangs that reached his thin black eyebrows. His eyes were the most noticeable feature on his face, soft blue ones surrounded by long lashes. If you had to guess, he was probably in his mid 20s. Part of you wondered how a young man like him could own such a lavish restaurant. “You’ll have to forgive my friend, he was only trying to help and he got a bit carried away.” Bruno turned around to face the man you now know to be Mista, presumably staring him down, before facing you again and rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward laugh.

“It’s fine, thank you for clarifying.” You smiled back. “I’m really glad we can speak in English, my Italian isn’t good at all.”

He cocked his head to the side, thin eyebrows furrowed. “You weren’t able to request a menu in English?”

Your jaw dropped slightly, realising this could have been resolved if you simply asked for a different menu. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I could!” You pressed your hands against your cheeks in shame.

Bruno laughed gently, his shoulder relaxing, grateful that this wasn’t a staff complaint in the works. “It’s okay, I’m glad you know for next time, I will go get you one.” He came back shortly with an identical menu, this time with everything in English. “We get a lot of tourists here, so we print a couple menus in different languages, mainly English and French.”

“Thank you so much sir, it helps a lot.” You waved him goodbye as you flicked through the new one, picking up all of the meals you had missed out on earlier. You decided to give Mista’s suggestion a go, after all, he was just trying to be nice. A different waiter met you this time, a woman with her hair tied back in a long, blonde ponytail and an exuberant expression across on her face, ready to take your order: the capricciosa pizza, and a slice of chocolate cake with gelato for dessert.

By now the restaurant had more customers, different groups of people huddled around the tables, filling the room with the smell of their meals and another layer of noise above the soft music in the background. Couples, families and friends chuckled and chatted together, enjoying the lively mood that the Naples summer put into them as they shared glasses of wine and scrumptious desserts. It didn’t take long for your waitress to return with a piping hot thin crust pizza on a large round plate with a rich cheesy and meaty aroma exuding from it as she placed it in front of your nose. She refilled your glass of water, adding a few blocks of ice to cool you down as the weather had begun to increase, before leaving you to enjoy your meal.

You took a bite from one of the slices, enjoying how the base crunched in your mouth and sighed, it was incredible. The meat was perfectly seasoned and paired wonderfully with the assortment of vegetables. This particular version had an additional drizzle of olive oil, but to your delight, it didn’t make the dish greasy at all. You had never had a pizza as wonderful as this, you saw why that nice old lady recommended Libeccio to you, as well as why Naples is known as the pizza hotspot. It’s like the meal had some sort of hold on you, its smell wrapped around your body, making you focus on the rich ham and savoury sauce. You ordered one of the smaller sizes, making sure you had enough space for dessert, which was just as delightful. The cool vanilla gelato was a perfect pair for the thick, warm chocolate cake. You always tried to limit your sugar intake, not wanting to sacrifice your health for a few treats, but it didn’t take long for your sweet tooth to activate and completely devour the rich cake.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” Mr Bucciarati returned once your plates had been cleared, sitting on the chair opposite you. “I hope everything was to your taste?” He placed his elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand.

While wiping your lips with a napkin, you nodded enthusiastically. “I did! I guess your friend was right about the capricciosa, it’s really amazing!” You definitely planned to return to Libeccio soon, especially since it wasn’t as expensive as you thought it would be.

His cerulean eyes lit up as a toothy grin formed. Libeccio had been his favourite restaurant since he was young. When he bought the establishment from the previous owner, he spared no expense to continue to do its name justice, not wanting to cut any corners regarding the quality of service or food as some would do. “Well I’m glad you liked it, it’s one of my favourites too.” He leaned in a little towards you, clearing his throat. “Can I ask, is this your first time in Italy?”

You paused a little before replying. “Yes. I never travel much, it’s far too expensive these days. I actually won these tickets in a lottery.”

He gave an understanding nod before switching to another beaming smile. “Ahh well that’s lucky, Naples is one of the best cities here. Call me biased since I grew up here, but I thoroughly prefer it to cities up north.” He folded his arms against his chest with a jokingly smug expression on his face. To Bruno, no amount of glitz and glam in Florence or Milan could match the warm pleasure that Naples made in his heart.

“Well, I’m glad I’m in the right place.” You smiled, turning to face him a little more.

“May I ask where you’re from?”

With slight hesitation, you revealed your home country to the kind stranger, watching his eyes light up at your words.

He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “Oh? I hear how beautiful it is there, especially in the Spring. I have an old friend who moved to,” He snapped his fingers as he tried to recall the name. “It’s escaped me now, but you know the small town in the south, the one with all the mountains and forests? I had a friend who moved there when we were younger. We would send each other postcards when we were little.” Bruno didn’t have many friends his age, especially as he grew up in a quieter area with an older population. This meant he cherished the few he had greatly. When his friend Mikhail moved away due to his father getting a job abroad, they vowed to always send each other letters and postcards. Sadly, this was cut short when he was twelve. You were familiar with the town he was referring to having visited there several times. It was a gorgeous area, filled with a lively artistic and historical culture, as well as being one of the largest cities from your home.

“Were you given any sort of activity list? Things to do here?” Bruno asked, fiddling with his fingers.

You shook your head. “Nothing, in particular, I don’t really know where to start.” You simply planned to rely on whatever the Internet suggested.

“If you would like anyone to go with you or show you some nice places, I’d be more than happy to show you around.”

“Oh no that’s completely fine! I don’t want to intrude on your schedule.” You grit your teeth, not wanting to inconvenience the lovely owner.

He scoffed with a light-hearted tone, shaking his head. “No, it's fine! You won’t be interrupting anything, I promise.” He paused, briefly before pulling a pen out of his shirt pocket and writing something on a napkin. “Here, this is my number. If you would like to go anywhere or need an idea, I would be more than willing to help.” He neatly folded it and handed it to you. “You don’t have to agree, this is just a suggestion! I know that being in a new country can be hard and sometimes daunting.” He quickly explained, holding his hands up as if to prove that this was just an innocent suggestion. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel as overwhelmed by a stranger as you did when Mista approached you.

You took the napkin from him, placing it in your purse. “Thank you Mr Bucciarati.” There was something about him that made it easy to talk to him: maybe it was his calm body language or his soft facial expressions, but it felt nice talking to him. In your gut, he seemed like a good guy. Besides, it would be nice to have a native speaker around to guide you.

“You can just call me Bruno by the way.” Usually, he was fine with being referred to as Bucciarati, but something in him felt like being less formal with you. “What can I call you?”

“y/n.”

He smiled and tilted his head to the side, causing his hair to fall slightly as he slowly repeated your name. “That’s such a beautiful name.”

**************************************************

It had been two days since you visited Libeccio, and still, the kind man’s napkin sat in your bag, stuffed underneath your purse. Bruno did seem nice, and at least he was the well-known owner of Libeccio, so he wasn’t a completely random stranger. It would be nice to have a personal tour guide, especially someone native to the area, it would also make your trip a lot less lonely. You pulled out the napkin and used the hotel phone to call him. After two rings, he picked up.

“Salve, Bucciarati parla.” He said, his voice was deep and groggy like he had just woken up and you could hear the sizzling of a frying pan in the background.

“Mr Bucciarati - Bruno?” You cleared your throat. “It’s y/n, I hope I didn’t call at a bad time.” You heard ceramic plates clanging against each other as well as the opening and closing of wooden drawers.

Bruno yawned before replying, rubbing his neck, soothing it after an uncomfortable night’s rest. “From Libeccio right?” His voice sounded a little chippier as he placed some bread in the toaster. He couldn’t deny that he was hoping you would call, at least this was something pleasant to start off his otherwise boring day.

“Mhm…I’m sorry I responded so late I-”

“It’s fine, it was a bold move on my part.” He cut you off with a light chuckle as he spread some butter on a crisp slice of toast. He was never usually so forward, especially with new people, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel pressured or preyed on. “Does this mean that you’ve decided to take up my offer?”

“Yes.” You nodded, perching on the end of your double bed.

He was thankful that you couldn’t see the wide grin that spread across his face. “How do you feel about pasta making?” The kettle whistled in the background, steam bursting out of the spout before settling. “There’s a place in the Spanish Quarter, they do pasta-making sessions for pretty much anyone, they’re supposedly quite fun.” Bruno poured himself his usual morning drink, a cup of coffee with a little milk and a dash of honey. He had visited his area several times before, though never to attend a class.

The opportunity to be taught how to make a true Italian pizza did sound intriguing, and a public session would be a safe option to go with a stranger. You concluded that this would be a decent idea. “That sounds great! How much does it cost?” You eyed your purse, knowing that you put yourself on a reasonably tight budget.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll cover you.” He said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his warm coffee.

“No no, I can’t just let you pay for me!”

Bruno let out another soft chuckle as took his usual seat on the sofa. “Don’t worry, the owner owes me anyways. So how does this afternoon sound?” He asked before taking a bite out of the soft buttered bread.

You turned to face the clock on the nightstand. “I can do two o’clock if that’s okay.”

“Meet me at Libeccio then.”

Bruno sat on a long wooden bench just outside the restaurant, arms resting on the back with his head tilted backwards. He wore a blue button-up shirt, opting to leave the top few buttons, exposing the top of his toned chest. Today was a lot warmer than the rest of the week, hence the cool lemonade sitting next to him with already melted ice cubes.

“Sorry I’m late!” You waved shyly, placing a hand on the bench. “I took a wrong turn and ended up at a marketplace.” An awkward laugh left your lips as Bruno sat up to face you, holding a hand above his eyes to avoid the glare of the Sun.

“No problem, the next bus will be here in a few minutes.” He smiled, looking down at his watch. You took a seat next to him, crossing your legs as you waited for the next bus to arrive. Libeccio was even busier than the last time you were there, the chatter from inside the restaurant poured out into the busy streets. This particular street seemed to be the centre of food service in the area, with cafes, bakeries and restaurants lining the road. Across from you was a small coffee shop with outdoor seating, while a dessert parlour with a white and lilac interior sat beside it. Through the window, you could see a group of kids and adults sitting in a booth enjoying an array of ice-creams and milkshakes, the perfect treat for such a hot day.

“That place does incredible cheesecakes,” Bruno’s voice caught your attention. “Probably the best you can get in Naples.” He pointed to the dessert place you were staring at.

“Do you go there often?” You asked, turning to face the man as he sipped his drink.

“Sometimes, when I have the chance. You should try it one day!” He gave you an enthusiastic grin. Libeccio only had limited dessert options, mainly a couple variations of cake with a simple scoop of vanilla gelato, but that wasn’t enough to soothe his sweet tooth. His usual order was a chocolate milkshake with a slice of either cheesecake or a brownie. The positions of Libeccio and Più Golosi (Sweet Tooth) complimented each other well, a savoury and sweet place just across the street from each other, a perfect, tempting pair for customers.

Before you could respond, the small yellow bus pulled up to the stop, stuffed to the brim with a flood of travellers. The double doors swung open, releasing a swarm of people as they rushed to jump off the stuffy vehicle. As Libeccio was in the city centre, the majority of the travellers were ending their journeys here, leaving the bus nice and spacious for the two of you. Bruno led you to a seat in the middle of the bus, slightly behind a group of teenagers chatting away about whatever trip they were on. The bus drove slowly along the street, giving you a chance to gaze at the array of bright and beautiful buildings lining the road. Naples really was a gorgeous city, decorated in bright buildings of various styles: gothic, classical, italiante, modern. Its proximity to the water not only guaranteed you a few nice days at the beautiful beach, but it also meant that you would get some of the best seafood around. As schools were closed for the holidays, you weren’t surprised to see so many kids and teens walking around. Some were in swimwear, most likely from the aforementioned beach, while others were in various summer wear, laughing with friends over smoothies as they moved from shop to shop.

It didn’t take long to reach the place, a large stone building with several cars parked in front. Near one of the entrances was a tall man with cropped black hair, treating himself to a smoke break. “Cardinale.” Bruno waved at the man, causing him to look up from his lighter. On closer inspection, the man, Cardinale, had a large tattoo on his forearm reading “Frederica.”

“Bucciarati.” Cardinale nodded with a smile, walking towards the two of you. “Oh, you brought a friend?” He faced you, looking you up and down before reaching out a hand towards you. “Cardinale, as you have heard.”

You took his hand, noting his strong grip on your hand. “Y/n, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Lovely to meet you too,” He let go of your hand, looking down at his watch. “If you’re here for a class, the next one is in about five minutes, Angelica is leading. Just put on an apron and wait in the hall with the rest of the group.” He pointed you in the direction of the large entrance next to him. “Don’t worry about a fee.” He took a puff of his cigarette as he waved the two of you off.

Contrary to its rustic exterior, the inside of the culinary school was extremely modern and polished. In the long hallway stood a group of about ten people, presumably the other people joining the class, chatting amongst themselves. Along the wall was a line of aprons, well, what would have been a line of aprons if they hadn’t been taken by the rest of the group, you and Bruno helped yourselves to the last two.

The wooden door at the end of the hall swung open, revealing a young woman with thick curly hair, beckoning everyone in. “Welcome welcome! Come inside!” She held the door open for everyone, greeting each member as they entered the pristine kitchen. She was quite tall, with dark skin and hazel eyes, all complimenting the friendly smile spread across her face, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. “Two people to a bench, please wash your hands before you touch anything.”

By default, you and Bruno stayed as a pair, choosing one of the benches near the large arched windows. The woman introduced herself as Angelica, explaining that she was a final-year culinary student and would be leading this session. She took you through all the steps, from making the dough, to forming the various shapes and preparing the sauce. Bruno seemed to be a master already, calmly forming little portions of perfect gnocchi, enough to get some praise from Angelica as she walked around the benches. At first, you were dreading this, worried that you would be the only one to mess up the shapes. The first few pieces of garganelli came out rather flat or irregularly folded, but after the fourth one, you started to get the hang of it. You decided to mix it up with some gemelli, they were much easier than the radiatori which Bruno made.

“You’re so good at this.” You laughed awkwardly, eyeing the array of styles Bruno had made.

He scoffed in return. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, trust me when I say that I was worse than you when I first started.” He tutted loudly, realising he had squashed the riccioli in his hands. “As you can see, I still make mistakes.”

“I don’t think I’ll even attempt the ruote or the spighe.” Angelica had a camera set up at her station, it projected a birds-eye view of her work onto the screen slightly to the left of her. On her board were roughly thirty different types of pasta she made on the spot, ready to be cooked. They were all perfectly shaped with no sign of imperfections.

“Well, maybe when you return from your holiday you can continue practising. Being able to make pasta from home can save a lot of money sometimes.”

“Do you make all of yours from scratch then?” You asked, using the pasta machine to flatten out a new section of dough.

“I try to if I have the time.”

You shook your head. “Owning a restaurant must take a lot of your time, I can’t imagine how much work goes into it.” You began sectioning out the dough for a batch of casarecce.

“Well yes…sort of.” Owning a restaurant was time-consuming, Bruno wouldn’t deny it. But it wasn’t the only thing that limited his time and availability. His position with Passione didn’t concern you, after all, you were a tourist and a stranger. Before the conversation could continue any further, Angelica called everyone’s attention to the front where she took everyone through the sauce.

It was a simple cream sauce with bacon, parmesan and swiss cheese, a perfect match for the pasta. While the food simmered in the separate posts, the opportunity arose for the group members to mingle with each other, only for a few minutes. You ended up conversing with the couple behind you, a pair of 19-year-old university students on a date. The four of you talked about the summer, they shared their plans to travel around Naples before returning to Rome for their studies. While you and Bruno explained that you were also on holiday here and he was showing you around.

Once everything was cooked and plated to Angelica’s standards, everyone made their way to the dining area just down the hall from the kitchen. You both sat by a round wooden table situated by a window, helping yourselves to the freshly squeezed juice offered. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the worst as you took a bite of your dish. To your surprise it was delightful! The thick creamy sauce paired wonderfully with the light pasta, and the bacon gave an extra savoury crunch to the dish.

“See, I knew you weren’t as bad as you thought.” Bruno asked, topping up his glass of juice.

“I surprised myself honestly.” You laughed, collecting another forkful of food. “How is yours?” You noticed that he had already eaten half of his plate.

“As you can see, I thoroughly enjoyed it, it was lovely if I do say so myself.” He smirked proudly, his expression making you giggle. “Though I think I’ll add more vegetables to it if I remake it.” He ate another forkful.

The two of you conversed a little more as you cleaned up your plates and washed them up. Bruno was a real gentleman, even with the smallest things like holding the door open for you, he was a good listener and showed genuine interest in your stories about back home. There was something about him that made you very comfortable, he genuinely seemed like a friend to you, despite how little time you had known him for.

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” You said as you walked towards the bus stop. “I’m very grateful that you did this.” You rubbed the back of your neck shyly.

Bruno gave you a smile as he dug his hands into his pocket, “It’s no problem.” The bus back to Libeccio arrived and you both got on board. It was just as empty as it was when you got on it earlier, allowing the two of you to speak openly. “Y/n? While I enjoy your company and would love to show you more interesting places, I just hope you don’t pressured to meet with me. I know that being in a new country can be daunting and I don’t want you to feel unsafe around me.” Bruno said, squeezing the fabric of his trousers.

“Well, I’m thankful that you appreciate boundaries. I’d like to think I can trust you, I would like to see more places, its better than travelling all alone. You replied, resting your back against the window so you faced him.

The corners of his lips upturned lightly. “I would like that too.” He cocked his head to the side. “Just give me a call whenever you feel like meeting again.”

**************************************************

Today marked two weeks of your trip, and of those fourteen days, ten of them had been spent with Mr Bruno Bucciarati. After the success of the pasta-making class, you met up the next day to try out that dessert place you were looking at, Più Golosi. He treated you to an ice cream sundae with a fluffy waffle, while he had a tall glass of hot chocolate with a slice of carrot cake. The day after that, he took you through the underground world of the Napoli Sotteranea, through the ancient labyrinth of aqueducts, passages and cisterns, weaving through the narrow passages by candlelight. Later you visited some of the other marketplaces, trying out some of the local street food like cuoppo and graffa. Graffa was a kind of fried fluffy, potato-based doughnut covered with sugar. Cuoppo came in land and sea variations, with the land version consisting of potato crocché stuffed with cheese and ham, pasta zeppole, zucchini flowers, ricotta and scagliuozz, arancini rice and more. With the sea version contains squid and shrimp rings, seaweed fritters and fried fravaglietti. You both shared a love for music and art and expressed these through trips to the Museo e Real Bosco di Capodimonte and the busy busking-rich streets where guitarists and pianists were often found entertaining crowds dotting the area.

You and Bruno had grown closer over time, sharing more intimate sides of you over cups of coffee and walks through the shopping centres. You ended up meeting some of his friends, Giorno, Fugo and Mista. The latter you had already met through the awkward encounter in Libeccio, but you were thankful that now you had a more pleasant encounter with him. Mista was quite the comedian, loud and unhinged, while Giorno and Fugo were more mellow and casual like Bruno. You hit it off with them immediately, you bounced off each other quite well. You learnt about his childhood, how his parents were separated and he bought Libeccio just a couple of years ago; while letting him in on details of your life back in your home country. Bruno never pried into your personal affairs, always tiptoeing around anything that could seem intrusive (he didn’t even know which hotel you were staying at), respecting the boundaries set as new companions while remaining amicable. That little connection you felt to him when you first met had increased over time, and something inside you wanted to see him more and more. Maybe it was just a silly little crush, after all, having a handsome Italian gentleman showing you around the city would make anyone blush. And besides, you were on holiday, maybe the new scenery had changed you in a way. Regardless, you were not going to act on anything, you’d had enough bad luck with past relationships, no need to cripple yourself with a fantasy-like ordeal with a strange man in another country, and it’s not like you knew if Bruno felt the same.

Today you were at the beach again, for the third time this trip, basking in the Sun and soaking up a nice tan.

“Fancy a drink?” You pulled off your sunglasses, looking up at Bruno as he stood beside you, holding out a chilled can of Coca-Cola. You thanked him for the beverage and cracked it open, enjoying the refreshing drink. “I have to leave soon, a friend is coming to pick me up in a few minutes.” He said with an apologetic tone as he packed up his belongings. “We can drop you off at Libeccio if you would like us to?” He folded his towel, placing it in his small travel bag.

You had grown a little tired of today’s beach trip anyways, with it being a Saturday, more families were free to visit the beach making it more crowded and louder than normal. “If you could that would be great.” You began packing up your own items, making sure to not leave anything behind like your water bottle or sunscreen. The two of you walked over to the parking lot after changing, where a black Honda sat with the driver resting his head on the open window.

“Who’s that.” The man looked up, pointing to you.

“She’s a friend, y/n, I need you to drop her off at Libeccio.” Bruno opened the back door for you to get in, before making his way to the front passenger seat.

“I’m not your personal driver Bucciarati.” The man scowled, starting the car and pulling out of the parking space. Bruno scoffed and leaned on the window.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve done a lot more favours for you Abbacchio,” He turned around you face you, “don’t mind him, he’s just bitter for no reason.” He gave you a reassuring smile before facing forward once more.

The journey was short, just a few minutes of driving with very little traffic. Bruno and Abbacchio talked for most of the journey, presumably about something important as they only spoke in Italian, despite them speaking in English earlier. The man Bruno was with looked about your age with pale skin, long greyish hair tied back and a few bruises on the back of his hands. You assumed this was just a friend, or maybe someone he worked with at Libeccio. They dropped you off outside of the restaurant and Bruno waved you goodbye as the car drove off.

“So are we not going to address her?” Abbacchio asked, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “I didn’t know you liked picking up foreign girls, I guess this is the person you show around.”

Bruno rolled his eyes at the teasing, refusing to let it get to him.

“Oh? Trying to act like the bigger man now?” Leone turned into the next street. “I thought you’d given up on dating after Ambra? Or Esta? Or even Genevieve?” He looked at Bruno through the corner of his eye. He picked up on the way Bruno’s jaw clenched slightly after hearing his exes' names brought into the conversation. Despite what many people would assume, Bruno Bucciarati never had any luck with girlfriends. Yes he was sweet, outgoing, polite, a great cook, loving, he checked most if not all boxes on the typical ‘perfect boyfriend’ list; but his involvement with Passione was enough to render his pros useless. Ambra and Genevieve were both frightened by this connection, cutting the relationship short and eventually just ending communication with him as a whole, while Esta ended up using him for his money, despite knowing that Bruno was in love with her. These three relationships were enough to crush his spirit and deter him from dating as a whole, not wanting to have his heart shattered by anyone else. His coping mechanisms were focussing more on Passione and buying a restaurant close to his heart, Libeccio.

“She is just a friend, that’s all.” Bruno shrugged, eyes focused on the traffic lights up ahead.

“Ha! That’s rich!” Leone snorted, stopping for the red light, he paused, considering his words before saying them. “Does she know you’re in Passione?” Abbacchio had known Bruno through two of his relationships, and as one of his closest friends, he could also tell that Bruno was already interested in you and he didn’t want him to make another mistake.

“No, she doesn’t.”

Leone sighed, his skepticism growing. “Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t need to know.” Bruno snapped, winding down the window slightly for air. In his gut, he was sure that Leone knew his feelings for you, he was good at reading people. But still, Bruno was stubborn and would rather avoid such an intrusive conversation.

They had reached their destination, an old motel on the outskirts of the city. “It’s very clear that you like her Bucciarati, she’s the one you’ve been touring the city with right?” Leone sighed, knowing that he would be treading on an uncomfortable, but necessary conversation. “How do you know she’s not using you? Taking advantage of a rich guy to improve her time here, how much have you spent on her?”

“Not much.” This was technically true, anytime Bruno paid for anything, you paid him back or simply split the fee.

Abbacchio grunted, stepping out of the car and making his way to the motel room with Bruno right behind him. “Jeez, you never learn do you?” He scoffed, trying to find the right key for the room. “Don’t give me any of that ‘I don’t like her’ crap, you know you do that’s why you spent all your time with her.” He managed to unlock the door. “Just don’t let her break your heart again, I can’t say I’m expecting anything good from this.”

**************************************************

“Do you know the Amalfi Coast?” Bruno asked, poking you lightly.

You tapped your chin. “I’ve seen a few pictures, it looks beautiful.” You turned back to your plate of lasagne, cutting another piece of the dish and piling some salad on top.

Bruno cleared his throat, poking his carbonara as he tried to figure out how to word his next comment. His words were stuck in his throat leading him to continue tiptoeing around the topic as he had before. “There’s a very nice hotel that I go to sometimes, its so close to the water.” He looked up at you, trying to gauge your interest. You simply nodded and sipped your water, humming in response. “I think it's the kind of place to go with someone.” His voice upturned slightly, almost like he was asking a question. You still didn’t react much as you sipped your lemonade. Bruno huffed and placed his fork down, leaning towards you. “Y/n, I’m asking if you would like to join me.” He blurted out, making your eyes widen.

“Oh.” That was all you said as your hands paused in the middle of loading another forkful. There was an awkward pause and the air grew thicker. A bead of sweat trailed down the back of Bruno’s neck as the regret pooled at the bottom of his stomach. How could he think you would even agree to this? You had only known each other for just over two weeks, him suddenly inviting you to a hotel in another area just made him look like a creep. Now you knew he had some sort of interest in you and there was no backtracking.

‘I just want to curl up in a ball and-’

“I would love to go with you Bruno.” You said, cutting off his thoughts. You folded your lips in, fiddling with your thumbs as you stared at your plate bashfully. With such close proximity, Bruno could see the slight redness of your cheeks. So it looked like you both shared similar feelings towards each other, Bruno wondered how long the two of you had been in this state without knowing.

“I’ll drive us there tomorrow then.” He smiled, refilling his mocktail.

It felt like forever for Saturday morning to arrive, you spent hours fretting over what to wear. You hadn’t been on a date in a while (was this a date?), even longer since you went on a trip with someone you were interested in, and that most certainly didn’t end well. But you felt like Bruno was different. Despite his classy sense of style or his popularity among the locals, he never came across as judgemental or arrogant and that made it easier to get ready for the trip.

At 10 am, Bruno arrived at your hotel. This was the first time you ever told him where you were staying and you would rather he picked you up than you took a suitcase with you to meet at Libeccio. This was also the first time you ever saw his car. It looked expensive, a shiny black convertible that people kept looking at as they walked in and out of the hotel’s front doors. He wore a plain white t-shirt and had a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses on his head. He shot you a confident smile as he waved at you, getting out to help you put your suitcase in the back.

The journey was a little longer than expected, around three and a half hours with the traffic that clogged the highway. Bruno had a designated travel playlist, burned onto a CD which he played for any long journey. It was a mix of American and Italian songs, mainly different variations of jazz or romantic songs, he made sure to sing along to most of them, even when he fumbled the lyrics. Bruno had a very smooth singing voice, his baritone voice made every word sound like honey as he sang, you could listen to it for hours.

You and Bruno conversed for a while, passing the time as you sat in traffic once more between Trecase and Torre Annunziata. Bruno told you how Mista and Giorno had asked about you, hoping to see you again before you leave, carefully excluding how they teased him for planning this trip to Amalfi, well aware of your shared interest in each other. Abbacchio was still skeptical, this spontaneous trip to Amalfi, which was completely covered by Bruno, didn’t help his gut feeling about you using him. But seeing how the two of you acted around the rest of the group made him a little more optimistic about the situation. He just hoped you wouldn’t run back home and block his number instantly.

“We’re here!” Bruno pulled up in front of a grand hotel, ‘’. It was a large classical building with pillars along the front, all coated in bright white. The inside was a soft gold colour with a gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Being here was breathtaking, you always thought your hotel in Naples was fabulous, but this was extraordinary, does Bruno really make so much money to afford this just through restaurant owning?

After Bruno checked you in, he handed you the key to your room. You and Bruno were staying in separate large rooms next to each other on the sixth floor which gave you the perfect view of the water. After a couple hours of settling in, you took a tour around the coast. Amalfi was an interesting place, it was made up of thirteen towns, all clinging to the cliffs, reaching all the way down to the beautiful shore. Tourists traipsed up and down the area, some hiking on the Path of the Gods, while others explored the Blue Grotto caves in Capri. Bruno told you that when he was younger, he assisted his father with his duties as a fisherman: from gathering bait, to fishing, to following him on deliveries to the local fishmongers. He arranged a boat for recreational fishing just off the coast of Postiano, but for the sake of preserving the natural ecosystem, participants were asked to just catch and release.

The small boat rocked slowly on the water as Bruno guided you through fishing, holding your hands in the right position to be able to reel the fish in properly. It took a couple of tries, but you managed to catch a few small sardines.

That evening, Bruno had arranged dinner at a small restaurant near the hotel.

**************************************************

La Galleria was a cosy little place specialising in seafood from the local fishing ports. Your table was on the roof with a breathtaking view of the water below as the cooler evening breeze hit the back of your neck. You wore a simple red dress, while Bruno wore a red turtleneck with a black blazer. You both had bowls of chicken caesar salad, drizzled in a rich sauce, followed by a miso-glazed black cod on white rice for Bruno, and shrimp scampi with pasta for you. As the soft jazz from below wafted up to the roof, you and Bruno reminisced on your time together these past couple weeks, from strangers in Libeccio to sharing a meal in Amalfi. Your knee brushed against Bruno’s innocently as you talked, the close proximity making your heart race. Bruno was so handsome, and even though you told yourself that you wouldn’t let a crush grow to anything more, you couldn't help but feel the urge to have his muscular arms wrapped around you or run your fingers through his soft black hair made your stomach twist. You could listen to his voice for hours on end, enjoying his cute hand gestures and his rich accent. He was so kind to you too, planning so many trips, including paying for this one. He was way too generous to you and the last thing you wanted was to come across as a golddigger of some sort, Bruno was a genuinely nice guy, so patient and attentive.

Bruno’s heart was racing too, worried he would trip on his words or forget how to say something in English as he had before when talking to you. You always looked so beautiful to him, no matter what, you always took his breath away. He couldn’t imagine the last time he had felt so at ease around someone, much less a stranger he met a couple of weeks ago.

“Thank you so much Bruno, for tonight, for everything.” You said, your fingers lightly brushing against his on the table. He wanted to hold your hand badly, to kiss it again like he had before and tell you how much you meant to him.

“You’re welcome bella, I’ve really enjoyed these past-” He was cut off by the ringing of his phone, “please excuse me.” He got up immediately, excusing himself downstairs in a rush. You didn’t see the caller ID, but usually, Bruno was fine with answering calls around you, but his behaviour made you worry. The call was short and Bruno returned within a few minutes, facing his meal as if nothing happened. Ordinarily this would be normal, but it seemed like something was on his mind, like his mood was suddenly soured. You noticed how the space between you had grown slightly bigger than before, you were no longer lightly brushing against his knuckles, and nor were your knees connected.

“Bruno, is everything okay?” You mustered up the courage to ask, worried that you would be prying too much into private affairs. You hoped he would just tell you everything was fine, that it wasn’t anything serious, but you knew it must have been.

“Y/n…” He sighed, biting on his bottom lip, “there’s something I need to tell you. I haven’t been completely honest about myself.” He avoided making eye contact with you, which was more than enough to elevate your worry. Your stomach dropped, a million possibilities racing through your head. Maybe he didn’t really like you, maybe he was using you for attention, reeling you in with a charming persona? Maybe he had a partner and was using you to cheat?

Bruno turned to face you, clutching your hand in his as he looked earnestly into your eyes. “I’m still Bruno, bella, I’m still the same person who owns Libeccio, and likes fishing. And I do like you, so much, but I can’t keep hiding this from you and I understand if this means you don’t want to be around me anymore.” His breathing was rapid as he squeezed your hand tightly. His mind was prepared for the worst scenario, he was ready for you to scream or run away from him, locking yourself in your room and finding your way back to Naples without him. He was ready for you to get angry or upset at him for not telling you sooner. Part of him regretted bringing it up already, feeling like he had thwarted his best attempt at love, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep you in the dark if he genuinely cared.

“Y/n, do you know what Passione is?”

You exhaled deeply, yes, you had heard of Passione, a hub for organised crime in the south of Italy. Was Bruno really part of them? When you think of mafiosi you imagine much older men, using laundered money for drugs, weapons, and exploiting women, at least that is the stereotype, was Bruno really one of them? Sweet, kind, generous, optimistic Bruno who you adored being around? The same Bruno who always helped anyone he saw? Who showed the utmost respect for all the older citizens and acted with integrity? You 100% believed that not everyone involved in crime is inherently bad, many people fall into it at low points of their lives, you knew that Bruno was a good man, regardless of his affiliation with the group.

When you didn’t respond, Bruno let go of you. “I knew this was a mistake, I should have just listened to Abbacchio and stopp-”

“Bruno,” You placed a hand on his, making him lose his train of thought, “I’m not upset that you’re in Passione.” You whispered, interlocking your fingers with his. “I don’t think less of you for it, I know that people can be put in situations that make them choose that path,” your eyes darted to the side, “but I believe you’re a good person Bruno, I really do. I’m not exactly in the safest position as a woman in a foreign country, but I feel so safe with you Bruno, regardless of Passione.” You meant everything you said, keeping your eyes locked on him to show your sincerity. “I-”

Before you could speak, Bruno’s lips were on yours.

His hand remained holding yours, though squeezing slightly tighter now, while his free hand held the side of your face. His lips were soft against yours as his thumb pressed against your cheekbone. Slowly he pulled away, rubbing his nose against yours slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise, really.” You squeezed his hand gently.

Bruno’s hand found itself fitting perfectly in the curve of your waist. “I want to be with you y/n, not just for this trip.” His voice was shaky, he tried his best to not push too hard. “It’s okay for you to say no, it is.”

“I want to be with you too Bruno, I really do.” Without thinking, your hand moved up to hold the side of his neck, feeling the heat radiating off him before moving down to his shoulder. “Can I ask, Bruno…why are you with them?”

He took a deep breath, already regretting what he was about to say. Bruno never liked talking about this incident, he never told anyone this story, not even his old girlfriends. “My father was in an accident when he was 12. He was in the hospital and one night some people tried to…to kill him.” The sympathetic look in your eyes made it easier for him to talk. “He wasn’t in a gang or anything, he was just an ordinary person. I was in the room when they snuck in, two men, I-” His words got trapped in his throat. “I killed them.” He could tell from the small changes in your breathing, your posture, the glint in your eyes, that despite keeping an open mind about Passione, you couldn’t fully wrap your head around him being tied to murder. “If I didn’t they would have killed my father and come after me, there was nothing else I could do.” He begged, pleading for you to at least hear him out, scared that you would leave him after such a confession. “I had to go underground, I can’t do anything with something like that on my record.” The silence that followed was deafening, the sound of his heartbeat rang through his ears as his chest heaved slowly.

“It’s okay Bruno…it really is.” You whispered, “You’re the first person to know this and not run away or use me.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships. You’re the first person I’ve been able to actually feel happy with, Bruno, the first person to actually make me feel like you care.”

“Of course, I care about you bella, you mean the most to me. I hate that people have treated you that way, you deserve everything I could possibly give you and more…everything.”

The rest of dinner carried on smoothly, with Bruno’s seat much closer to yours and his hand resting on your knee. His eyes were more focused on you than the delicious food in front of him. His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest as your leg brushed up against him and your perfume wafted into his nose. Bruno really did think you were beautiful, the way your dark hair fell to your shoulders, contrasting your crimson dress. How your cheeks turned rosy when you laughed, or your tendency to fiddle with the hem of your clothing when you were tired. There had always been something in him that knew he had feelings towards you, but kissing you, even though it was brief, solidified his feelings.

Neither of you pushed any further about the kiss, nor did you talk about your beat-around-the-bush confessions. Instead, once dinner was over, you made your way back to the hotel silently.

“I guess I will see you in the morning then?” Bruno asked, letting out a soft laugh as you stood in front of your respective doors.

“Yeah, I guess I will.” You smiled as you waved each other goodbye. It wasn’t until you had both returned to your rooms that you were able to release the tension in your body. The kiss still lingered on your lips as you pulled your night shirt over your head and you could feel your face get warmer. You couldn’t deny that the idea of him kissing you was something buried in the back of your mind, especially when he would hold you in close embraces and his natural scent would waft into your nose. There was a part of you that wanted to continue, that wanted to go to his room and lie with him on this warm evening in Amalfi. To feel what it would be like for him to hold you in his arms as more than just a friend. You shook your head, feeling like a young teenager having their first kiss.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention to the TV opposite your bed and flicked through the channels, landing on what looked like a random soap opera. By your bed was a small menu with all the items available for room service and decided on a jug of lemonade to cool you down. When there was a knock just two minutes later, you were a little surprised by the speed of service. You were even more surprised by seeing Bruno standing by your door.

Bruno had been standing outside your door for the past five minutes, contemplating knocking on your door. Would he be intruding? Jumping to conclusions over a simple kiss?

Ah, but it wasn’t a simple kiss was it, you had confessed your feelings to each other.

But you only had three more days in Naples, maybe this was your way of getting some sort of closure, getting your feelings out on the table before you disappear and never cross paths again. Even on the off chance that anything came from this, it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be weird for him to approach you like this.

While Bruno reasoned this in his head, his body had other plans. It wasn’t until you swung the door open that he realised he had already knocked.

“Hi,” He swallowed, awkwardly placing his hands behind his back. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You shook your head as you opened the door wider, welcoming him into your room. “No no, I just haven’t been able to sleep.”

“Me neither.” He perched on the edge of the desk, watching the television next to it. “What are you watching?”

“I have no idea, I couldn’t figure out how to put it in English.” The silence from both of you overpowered the noise from the TV. Usually you would bounce off each other better, but the events at dinner seemed to leave you both somewhat shy. Deep down, you both wanted more, but neither of you had the confidence to make the first move.

Bruno walked over to you, sitting next to you on your bed, knee brushing against yours.

“Y/n…” He started, taking your hand in his, “I meant everything I said earlier, about how I feel about you.” His slender fingers traced the lines of your palm slowly. “In a perfect world, I’d want you to be with you, properly. But I know that you have to go back home soon, I understand if this has to end here.”

“It doesn’t have to.” The words spilt out of your mouth before you could even process them properly. “I mean…I can always come back, maybe sometimes you can visit me.” A long-distance relationship wasn’t something you ever really thought you would find yourself pursuing, but you couldn’t miss this opportunity with Bruno.

“I like that idea.” Bruno smiled, interlocking his fingers with yours before ducked down for another kiss, this one was shorter and sweeter, the type that gives you a warm feeling in yout gut. It was like a bridge had formed between the two of you and any worries about intimacy had been crossed out. “Out of curiosity, when are you next free?” His enthusiasm made you giggle.

You tapped your chin, recalling what you discussed with your boss before you left for Italy. “I have to use up my holidays within the next three months, maybe I can come back before they’re over.” You grinned widely, enjoying the way he his face softened at your words.

“Can’t you stay a little longer? Use up your holidays now?” He pulled you onto his lap, kissing all over your face. His demeanour had suddenly changed, knowing that he might only have to wait a couple of months to see the woman he cared so much about. You giggled as you held his broad shoulders, squeezing them lightly as you tried to pull him away from your face. He ducked down to nibble where your neck connected to your head, trying to coax you into staying.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I can’t afford it Bruno, and besides, I signed papers with my boss saying I would be back to work next week.” You felt him sigh against your neck.

“How much more time do you have left to use on holidays?”

“10 days I think.”

“I’ll book you a flight.”

“Bruno!” You pulled away, pinching his soft cheek “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I do bella, but I just think it’s easier to book now that the prices are cheaper.” He wrapped his arms tighter around your form. It didn’t take long for his lips to fall back on yours, moving between them and your neck, only to be broken by a knock on your door.

“So sorry for the wait signorina, the machine wasn’t working.” The waiter apologised profusely as he placed your lemonade on the table.

“It’s no problem, thank you.” You smiled, closing the door behind him. You both shared a few glasses of the cool drink, talking more about the possibility of you coming back to Naples. Despite his earlier energetic behaviour, Bruno was quite understanding of the situation. He knew that compromises would have to be made and that things may not always work out, but regardless, he chose to be optimistic about the situation.

Once the jug’s contents had been thoroughly depleted, you found yourselves tucked under your bedsheets. You didn’t realise how tired you were until you fell asleep so quickly against his soft t-shirt, to the sound of his heartbeat. Cool air blew through the window, making you press up against him in your sleep as his hands moved down to hold your waist. Bruno’s heart was pounding like it wanted to leap right out of his ribcage. Being here, holding you, this was all he wanted. For the first time in so long, he felt like he was happy again, like you were the one for him. He gave up on this feeling ages ago, not wanting to risk another heartbreak, but now he couldn’t resist it.

He was in love.

**************************************************

Sunday was quite simple. Breakfast at a lovely little cafe, a bike ride through Sorrento and lunch back at the hotel. This was certainly not the first time you and Bruno had gone out together, but this time was different. The way he held your hand, your waist, hugged you, everything felt different now, a good type of different.

This “good different” continued to Monday and Tuesday, with Bruno being even more of a gentleman to you. He made sure to cherish every moment with you like he was making up for lost time.

The sun peeked through the window, highlighting your body as you hummed in your sleep. Bruno had been awake for a while now, the lump in his throat and the twists in his stomach making it harder to enjoy the warm summer morning.

Today was your last day, the last time he would be able to see you for who knows how long. He always knew you would leave, Naples wasn’t your home after all, and there is a chance it may never be. But now that the dreaded day had come, it just made his chest ache to the point where it made his head spin.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your back was pressed against him, allowing him to nuzzle into your neck. You groaned quietly, fidgeting in your sleep before settling once more. Bruno used this as an opportunity to place a kiss on your neck, enjoying the sweet natural scent emanating from your body. He slid his other arm under your body, hugging you properly as your legs tangled together under his sheets.

“Bruno…” You grinned, feeling the pressure of his body against you as he had you in a tight embrace. “I need my sleep you know?” You patted the side of his face lightly, enjoying the warmth emanating from his soft cheek.

His heart hurt even more hearing your voice, knowing this would be the last time he would hear it in person. “y/n…” He whispered, holding your hand gently in his, bringing it down to the soft mattress and interlocking your fingers with his. “When is your flight?” He mumbled into your neck, eyes locked on his thumb stroking your skin.

You inhaled sharply, realising why his tone had been so mellow this morning. “6 pm, there’s been a car arranged.” You bit your bottom lip, feeling Bruno lean away from you with a deep sigh. His arms left your body cold air hit your back.

“I’ll come with you, I’ll see you off at security.” Bruno said, laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. You turned around to face him, watching the sun highlight the lower half of his face and chest, coating them in a pale yellow glaze. His lips were downturned slightly, forming an involuntary frown as his eyebrows furrowed. His expression made your heart sink to your stomach, you knew you would miss him so much.

You scooched closer, resting a head on his flattened shoulder as your fingers traced his chest gently. “I’ll come back Bruno,” You dragged your fingers down to his navel. “I promise.” You looked up at him, catching how his eyes shifted from you as soon as you made eye contact, realising that you caught him staring. His cheekbones were softly dusted with pink as he cleared his throat.

“I know you will, and I’ll find time to visit you.” He cupped the side of your face, “but you can’t blame me for being a little upset that you’re leaving.”

“I know, I am too.” You gave a half-smile, holding his wrist. Seeing you frown made his heart sink even more, it wasn’t his intention to dampen the mood so early in the morning.

“Y/n, why don’t we go to Libeccio? For your last meal here?” Bruno asked. Ending the trip with the place you met seemed perfect. It also gave Bruno the opportunity to make sure you received the best service possible.

“I’d love to.”

You both laid in bed for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth until noon when you finally got up for lunch. You wore a simple sundress with a red flower pattern along it, something that Bruno absolutely adored on you. Hand in hand, you left his home for the restaurant, deciding to have one last walk through the streets you grew to love. Libeccio was slightly quieter than usual, what with it being lunchtime on a Wednesday, this at least made it easier to talk to each other.

“Oh? If it isn’t the two lovebirds!” A familiar voice called, you looked up to see Mista leaning on the back of Bruno’s chair, much to his dismay, poking his nose into his menu. Bruno had made the mistake of being open to the group about his feelings for you, this ultimately left him vulnerable to childish teasing which would surely get worse when you weren’t around. “Y/n, Bucciarati says you’re leaving today?”

“Mhm, I need to leave for the airport in a few hours.”

“Ah, this one will certainly miss you,” He nudged Bruno with his elbow, “he goes on and on about you all the time anyways.” He scoffed.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Bruno asked, not bothering to look up from the menu.

“I actually came to collect an order,” He lifted up the black bag in his hand, that explained the sudden smell of shrimp. “But I might as well give Y/n a goodbye hug.” Mista walked towards you, pulling you out of your seat and hugging you tightly. Bruno knew what Mista was doing by pressing his palms on your lower back and hugging you for much longer than what was needed. But it was in his nature to tease people like that, after all, you and Mista grew to be quite good friends, and you both knew he was playing around. “Make sure to come back soon!” Mista waved as he left the restaurant.

Bruno turned back to you to see a smirk across your lips. “What?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Your face when Mista hugged me, I didn’t think it would get to you.” You laughed, flicking through the calzones section of the menu.

“Can you blame me for being a little jealous?” Bruno sighed, closing his menu and placing it on the table. He waved at one of the waiters, a tall, slender young man with long wavy hair, eager to take your orders.

Over lunch, you discussed plans for when you went back home: how to fit your schedules around each other, the possibility of sending each other gifts, and Bruno travelling to visit you. The thoughts alone brought butterflies to your stomach, the idea of Bruno being in your home, visiting your favourite places, your family and friends even. You already had a list of things to do with him buried at the back of your mind.

Once the plates were cleared and the bill was paid, you found yourselves in a small park, wandering along the footpaths that weaved along the luscious green grass, between the thick oak trees.

“Y/n…we need to get to the airport soon.” Bruno whispered, pulling your waist towards him as he sandwiched you between him and an old tree.

“Mhm.” You rest your head on his shoulder in a warm embrace, his rich cologne flooding your nose with a scent you would soon miss.

“Y/n…mi bella.” The pet name made your heart well up. “I know we haven’t been together for a long time but…the feelings I have for you, it’s like I-”

“I know what you mean Bruno.” You cut him off quietly, tugging his soft cotton shirt. You felt the same way Bruno did, the tingles you got when he held your hand, the way your body perfectly moulded into his, how your stomach twisted and turned anytime he looked you in the eye. Somehow, somewhere, along the line, you realised that you had fallen in love with the kind mafioso that swept you off your feet.

“So you love me too bella?” Bruno asked, a teasing tone to his words as his lips met your forehead.

You rolled your eyes playfully, enjoying how his soft lips felt against your skin. “Well if I have to put it in words, then yes.”

Bruno’s heart pounded in his chest, he could feel the shakiness in his breathing from the relief of knowing that you felt the same way he did. It was almost laughable how quickly the chains around his heart loosened when you appeared. How his vows to never give in to another person were discarded as he got closer and closer to you. You were perfect to him, everything he wanted and more, and he knew he couldn’t just let you leave without letting you know how much power you had over him and his weak heart.

“Bella, I love you so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Please remember that, always, even if I’m not there with you.”

“I love you too Bruno, truly I do. I haven’t felt this way with anyone in so long I-” Bruno’s lips pressed gently against yours, stealing your breath away.

“I’m sorry to cut you off but you just look so cute, why do you have to leave today bella, stay here with me a little longer.” He groaned, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, knowing how much he would miss this.

“Believe me, I want that more than anything, but I have to go back, Bruno.” The thought of not being able to hold him like this, to not stroke his soft black hair or look into his warm eyes, ate away at you.

“We should probably head to the airport soon then.”

Within the hour, you were at the airport, waiting in the busy queue to check in your luggage, while Bruno held you from behind, chin resting on your head. You ended up with one extra bag, filled with gifts for your friends and family: trinkets, snacks, clothing, as well as things that Bruno bought you.

“When you land, let me know okay?” Bruno hugged you one last time, his hands memorising the curve of your body, ingraining everything from your scent to the softness of your skin in his memory. His lips moved to kiss your forehead gently, “Y/n…I won’t pretend like I’m not going to miss you every day. I want us to work out bella, I’ll take time to visit you whenever I can okay?” The slight sniffles and breaks in his voice made your heart sink. Bruno loved you so much, more than he could contain, and you felt the same way about him as you inhaled his rich cologne.

“Bruno, I’ll miss you just as much, if not, more.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll call you as soon as I get back mi amore.” Hearing you use that name on him made his stomach twist and turn. Being called that, by you, in your voice that soothed his soul made his heart beat even faster. At that point, he just had to steal another kiss from you, a passionate one that stuck on your lips even after you pulled away.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, letting you cross the barrier to find your gate, and with tears welling in both of your eyes, you waved each other goodbye, thankful for this spontaneous trip that brought the two of you together.

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