Jotaro who loves to go on and on about his research on small plankton to big whales while your head lies in his lap, eyes drifting off.
Jotaro loves to come behind his pretty wife, taking in the perfectly crafted scent he's known for years while she cooks dinner.
Jotaro who isn't a big fan of PDA, but if it's for you, he'll gently place his hands on your waist or snake his arm around your waist.
Jotaro, who freezes at night when you take all the covers to avoid waking you and ends up pulling you closer for extra warmth.
Jotaro, who was known for his stoic and nonchalant energy, melts a little when he sees his cute little wife hum to songs on the radio while you make breakfast, your apron twirling as you turn around.
Jotaro, who loves to please you, flicking his tongue up and down your clit, his large hands holding your thighs open as you squirm.
Jotaro loves to push his pretty wife's head into the pillow while he pounds in and out, whispering lovingly into your ear. His hand tangles between the locks of your hair, sweat dripping off his perfectly crafted abs. His black curls stick to his forehead as he lets out one final grunt before whispering, "I love you."
NOTES: My bad, I had to rewrite it for it make sense in my notes!
“Tell me, have you seen her?”
The words whispered along the waves, carried in the breeze, fastened by the skies. They spun round n’ round till it felt like they had no simple meaning but to exist; those soft spoken words that he might’ve confused for illusion.
Water met his feet, cool white ocean foam pooling at the dips and falling at the rises of the sandbanks. Evening sun over head–still there, not quickening with passing seconds he had left to give.
Caw!
A gull called overhead, calling out those exact words in matra, in mock prayer. He smelt the lasting grip of death falling away with the wind, away from his body, and he stood born anew.
.
.
.
He was alone, so terrifyingly alone; the ocean seemed mute to his calls, for someone, anyone.
It was dreadful, very much so, it twisted his ribs till they felt like shattering, leaving him with a strange alien emptiness that only curdled in his stomach like old flowers.
“Do you see it?”
A voice called out, breathlessly, flowing between the winds. He followed it.
.
.
.
He found a door, partly sunken into the trunk of an overhanging tree. Wooden and stained with time, tucked away behind the drooping branches, away from his eyes. He found himself holding onto the knob like a lifeline.
“Open it, open the door.”
It opened with a loud creak–quite expected from an olden door.
.
.
.
“Hello, Joestar.”
It wasn’t what he expected at all.
He froze, stunned in what laid before him in all glory. A woman, standing amongst the large field, turned the other way so her face was hidden. Carrying herself with such an astound sense of grace that made doves envious.
“I must ask something from you… a favor you would say, friend to friend.”
She said it with such certainty that it ought to be true; had he owed her something?
“Just a small favor, it won’t be much–maybe.”
.
.
.
“I want you to save her, don’t let her forget; her name is (Name) (l/n), You might know her.”
He thought for a second. Nothing.
“I know what you might be thinking, ‘What’s this woman’s connection with this girl?”
.
.
.
“She is—You’ll find out sooner or later….”
.
.
.
“She’s going to forget soon, don’t let her keep waiting…”
The woman turned to face him with a gentle smile. Her smile meant; Was he really meant to save (Name)? Save you? Maybe, maybe it was fate that led him to this very moment, for a greater purpose that is saving you. His world had a way of drawing people together, maybe this was the same.
“The others are waiting….”
She gestured to another door, behind her.
.
.
.
His hand lingered on the knob for a moment, then he opened the door.
A/N: A Josuke x Male reader fic. Just a bunch of angst and comfort at the end. Fear of abandonment from Josuke's end.
"You're not leaving are you?"
Josuke tremored, wanting that little bit of reassurance from Y/N. He always feared that the day would come where Y/N left him. Y/N wasn't leaving him at all, it was just Josuke overthinking things in his mind.
He reached a hand up, rubbing his own throat. Trying to soothe the aching feeling he felt. His breathing quickened slightly, awaiting a response from Y/N as he anxiously watched him.
Y/N walked over to the other male, sitting him down on his couch gently before cupping his cheeks gently, shaking his head. "No. I'm never going to leave you. I promise, I'd never leave you without a good reason, everyone makes mistakes. None of that was your fault." He reassured him, his thumbs rubbing over his cheeks gently. "Try to calm down...deep breaths. In, and out. Follow me.." he mumbled.
Josuke fixated his gaze on the other, starting to slowly calm down to get his breathing in sync with his boyfriends. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting his tears roll down his cheeks shamelessly. He placed his hand over Y/N's, smiling slightly as he opened his eyes, wiping his tears. "Thank you.." he croaked softly.
Y/N nods, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "It's alright my love. I love you very much, do not worry." He hummed, wrapping his arms around the other, Josuke hugging back tightly.
Of course! I’m really happy you asked :)
You have excellent taste. I’m working on a Mista one right now, which I’ll post a bit later, so here’s a Bruno one for now.
Yandere! Bruno Bucciarati x Reader
TWS: stalking, murder, kidnapping
The locals were a huge fan of him, you knew that. Whenever he came into local shops that you just happened to be in at the same time as him, bakers, grocery sellers and business owners alike never hesitated in showering him in free goods. His effortless charm and charisma made him extremely popular, you almost felt jealous.
One morning you asked a local barista who he was, and it seemed to you like they stiffened and choked on their words.
“I have, uh, no idea what Mr. Bucciarati does. He is a good man.” they stubbornly left it at that, no matter how hard you pressed.
Feeling large rough hands curl over your shoulder, and a deep voice in your ear you jumped.
“Do you mind if I pay for your coffee today?”
The voice was deep and smooth, seductive. Like treacle or golden syrup.
You attempted to turn, but the person with their hand on your shoulder was a hell of a lot stronger than you’d anticipated. Startled, you noticed their hand on your waist and their chest pressed against your back, soft warmth flooding into your skin. He smelt like expensive cologne and gunpowder.
The barista’s face lit up at the sight of the person behind you.
“Ah, Mr Bucciarati! Speak of the devil!”
Despite Bruno being so forward with his actions, you had no idea what he wanted from you. He’d appear outside your work place in the evening with your favourite drink in hand (hang on, how’d he know?) ready to walk to you home like the gentleman he was. Gorgeous lush bouquets of flowers would appear on your doorstep, much to your delight, and suddenly all your student debts and loans started to disappear. Funnily enough he always appeared wherever you were, whether it was to run errands, to pick up a new book or check your letterbox. Charming as he was he always laughed it off, saying: “I’m always all over the town, expect to see me often.”
At this he glanced at you hopefully, as if waiting to see a sign in your face that you wished to see him too.
“Oh, and you know that male co-worker of yours, m/n? I’ve heard he’s no good, perhaps stop talking with him?”
What?
One night you even turned on the news to see the face of a man who’d been catcalling you at the train station on the headlines of a deeply disturbing murder case. According to news reporters, the body was split into segments, as if the murderer had simply ‘unzipped’ their body.
Fast forward to a chilly Monday morning where you turned up at your workplace to find the entire building closed down.
I’ll have to search for a new job soon, you thought in dismay.
Calloused hands embraced your waist in a manner too sensual for just acquaintances, and you whirled to face Bruno.
“Are you free tonight?”
What you were doing at such a fancy restaurant on a weeknight you had no idea, but before you could even object Bruno had taken care of all the details and you had a date with him that evening.
The usually put together man was especially strange that night, going out of his way to be sweet, pulling out your chair for you, lunging in front of you to open doors (good forbid your beautiful hands touch a doorknob), stiffening and tightening his grip on you anytime a male/female walked past (which left deep bruises) and fixing his deep sapphire gaze upon you the entire night as if you were a fairy about to vanish into a cloud of glitter any minute now.
Despite all these oddities, you had a beautiful night.
When he was walking you home, Bruno finally decided to spit it out.
“I can have nobody but you. Please move in with me. Love me please, and only me.”
Shocked, you turned down his offer as politely as you could, stating that you just weren’t ready for a relationship yet. He continued walking with you, but moved with a glazed, pained look in his eyes and with a shuddering in his body as if he was about to break down any minute. Feeling horrible, you hugged him, but he felt stiff to the touch.
“This just won’t do.” He said quietly, gripping onto your arm in desperation. The lovesick glow in his eyes mixed with murderous intent set your blood running cold. “Y-you have to love me.”
“Bruno,” you said, trying to move his hand off your arm. “That hurts. Could we talk?”
You felt a cold feeling behind you and goose bumps rippled on your skin before the sensation of your body splitting in half made your vision go black.
You wake in a luxurious bedroom, with Bruno running his fingers through your hair. Crying and scared out of your mind, you beg him to let you go, but it’s like he can’t hear you.
Over the next couple of weeks, he treats you as if you can’t care for yourself. Cooking you extravagant meals, buying you lavish gifts, even forcing himself into the shower with you to run his hands over your trembling soapy body.
You haven’t seen the outside world in months now. You can feel yourself going brain dead as Bruno’s obsessive love swallows you whole, making you completely and utterly reliant on him. No matter how humiliated you may feel about these arrangements, Bruno doesn’t mind a bit.
Completely relying on him. Him as your entire world. It’s exactly how he wants it!
He doesn’t care for a thing in the world, except your love for him.
THE FIRST thing you did when you first woke up was bring a hand to your face. When you found that your hat was still there, you let out a small sigh of relief and sat up to adjust it properly. Your fingers brushed over the familiar embroidery on the edge of the hat, feeling your tense shoulders slowly fall to their natural places. A yawn soon escaped you and you turned to look at the rising sun while rubbing at your eyes, squinting every now and then until your eyes adjusted to the light of the dawn. As you peeled your sleeping bag off yourself, Thunderstruck trotted over to you with a huff.
"Good morning, girl," you rasped out, patting Thunder's snout with a smile. Thunder nudged your hand and then looked at your bag which held a few apples you had scavenged a day earlier. There were only two and Thunder seemed eager to have them now, pawing at the dirt. "Yeah, yeah, okay," you chuckled, turning to take the apples out and turning back to find all four of the horses standing in front of you. Your eyes widened before a string of laughter left your lips.
"Let's see if I can break these up," you muttered, placing your thumbs in the pit at the top of an apple, trying to split it in half. You grimaced as you struggled to pull it apart, pushing your thumbs into the top until suddenly, it split clean in half. You looked at it owlishly, blinking harshly until you almost let out a yell of delight. Thunder had nudged your head over to face the still sleeping men nearby, making you grumble under your breath. Being alone was really starting to sound better than being around these men— well, so far, Mountain Tim had been the sweetest so you really didn't mind having him around.
"...anyways, here you go Thunder, and here's another half for you." Mountain Tim's horse ate up the apple quickly, shaking its head graciously once it had its share while Thunder ate it one bite. You reached over to grab the other apple and repeated the motion you had done earlier until it split. Johnny and Gyro's horses were quick to come up to your outstretched hand, eating the apple halves much slower than the other two. Once the halves were gone, Gyro's horse proceeded to lick your hand, making you laugh quietly, reaching out a hand to pat the horse's snout until your wrist was pulled away.
"What the hell are you doing to Valkyrie?" spat Gyro, pulling your arm until you were halfway into the air. Johnny and Mountain Tim were waking up from around the campfire, eyes widening as they saw Gyro hold you up. You scrambled to get out of his grip, pulling at your own arm with fear filling every crevice of your body. "I asked you a question, Speedwagon!" He threw you to the floor, leaving you to push away from him while you held your hat to your head.
"Woah, Gyro, calm down," Johnny urged while Slow Dancer trotted over to him, placing something into its owner's hand. Johnny grimaced but inspected it regardless, finding it to be a chunk of apple. With a sigh, he gave it back to Slow Dancer who took it back graciously as Johnny dragged himself over to Gyro. "He was just giving the horses some apples," he assured as you nodded fervently while getting to your feet awkwardly. Mountain Tim nodded from his spot on the ground.
"I was watching the whole time," Tim avowed which made you flush, "and, if they were poisonous, I would've known. I tend to have the nose for those kinda things." Gyro, albeit still barely convinced, gave a dismissive wave of his hand, stomping over to his sleeping bag which he then proceeded to roll up. As you rubbed at your sore wrist, Mountain Tim gave you an assuring nod that washed away the wave of fear.
You slowly made your way back over to your sleeping bag, conscious of the still angry man near you, and proceeded to roll it up as well. Thunderstruck was quick to walk over to her owner, bending her neck so that you could place it back in your bag. Then came the saddling up— you knew you wouldn't be successful on the first try but went through the process anyway, grimacing when you ended up hanging halfway off the saddle.
A snort came from behind you, but you didn't dare look and see who it was, face burning as you tried hopping onto the saddle again and failed. There was a bit more muffled laughter and you almost cried when you still weren't able to get on your horse. It didn't help that Mountain Tim was walking over to help. Once more, you threw yourself onto the saddle and pulled yourself up, panting from under your bandana.
"Guess you didn't need my help after all," smiled Mountain Tim as he, Johnny, and Gyro effortlessly saddled up. You hummed and pulled down the brim of your hat, cheeks aflame. "Let's get going then." Before any of them could even react, you were off, leaving the three to stare after you for a moment. "Er, we should go too..." said Mountain Tim as he pulled Ghost Rider into a gallop, Gyro and Johnny doing the same afterward.
The desert was quiet aside for the gallops of horses across it and the occasional cry of a falcon. As the sun began to rise, small lizards and birds left their desert homes in search of food, instinct fueling their every move. You watched as this happened, letting Thunderstruck do as she pleased. Every now and then, Johnny would shout directions and Mountain Tim would lead the other horses that way. Gyro, on the other hand, was quiet, not even challenging the route you would all take to the checkpoint.
Just like the day before, melancholy filled his electric green eyes, for what you couldn't tell. Again, it was none of your business and you weren't planning on making it your business anyway. After you all reached the checkpoint, you would all go your separate ways and you wouldn't have to see them until the finish lines. A pit of isolation sunk in your stomach as you leaned your head on the back of Thunder's neck, eyelids feeling heavy.
"Hey, wake up, you're gonna fall off your horse." You looked up to find Gyro riding closer to you, the only trace of emotion on his face being in his eyes. A grimace pulled onto your face as you looked away and shut your eyes. There was a grumble from Gyro and then the sound of Valkyrie pulling away from Thunder's side. Eventually, the town came into view and the three men sped up, leaving you following after them at your normal pace. This was only a checkpoint after all.
When you got there, there were two identical-looking men standing in front of them all, Gyro, Johnny, and Mountain Tim's arguing almost overpowering the voices of the other two men. Of course, all three were talking about who had gotten there first which was a bit disappointing to see in Tim's case. You said nothing and waited until they calmed down which had taken a moment after Gyro had gotten fussy and thrown his steel ball at a nearby wagon.
"Congratulations on your very early arrival, sirs," one of them began, standing there with an awkward smile, "this is a town specifically built as a checkpoint in the Steel Ball Run race." The three men seemed to finally pay attention as you leaned on Thunder's neck. "We were expecting to hear of the second stage riders arriving tomorrow but according to our information, you have distanced yourself about half a day from Sandman and Diego Brando AKA Dio, who took a separate route," said the other as the first one stepped forward with some ink, "we need to check your race numbers and your horses' prints."
"That damn Dio," grumbled Johnny, spitting into the dirt while Gyro grimaced. Mountain Tim gave the two men a charming smile while you all got off your horses. As one of the men began taking the prints, the other approached Gyro, handing him a letter with a smile. Gyro gave him a nod, no words exchanged between them— then your eyes met. You hastily looked away, pulling your bandana further up your face just as the man asked to take Thunder.
"Go on now, girl," you said, letting out a soft yawn afterward. The man perked up, looking around Thunder's body to face you, "we have a hotel with showers a bit down the road if you'd like to lodge there. We also have tents, restaurants, bars, a blacksmith, a barber..." You held up a hand to stop him and yawned once more, giving him a smile from behind your bandana.
"That'd be great," you began, turning to find Mountain Tim fixing up Ghost Rider's saddle, "d'you mind if I leave her with you?" Tim gave you a thumbs-up and you smiled, then turned around to the side of Thunder's neck. "Be good Thunder. I'll get you more treats later," you cajoled which was answered with a huff and a whinny. You gave one last wave to Mountain Tim before grabbing your bag and heading for the building with a hotel sign.
"Hey, Speedwagon! Where are ya goin'?" asked Johnny, making his way over to you when you stopped in front of the building. "Hotel," you replied gruffly, rubbing your eyes until you found Gyro standing beside him, eyeing your tired form. "Oh, in that case, why don't we all room together-" "Gyro looks like he wants to kill me so I'll have to pass." Johnny watched with wide eyes as you made your way into the building and then looked back at his friend with a frown.
"What?! I would!"
"Dammit, Gyro. You can be a handful sometimes."
"Handful of what?"
You had walked off before you could hear the rest of their conversation, eager to check into the room and have a nice, peaceful rest without having to worry about whether or not your hat was covering your face. How it had never fallen off until you wanted it to was beyond you. While getting the key to your room, the idea of a warm shower made its way into your mind, making you smile to yourself. You told yourself after your nap you'd take one.
"Room for three, please," said a voice from beside you, making you frown. Gyro was looking at you with a mix of smugness and anger, all wrapped up in one smirk. You didn't bother starting something with him and figured you'd be too tired to make sure you didn't die. An invisible shiver ran down your spine as you took the key in front of you, walking off before Gyro could try anything else.
Once you reached your room, you spotted Gyro and Johnny rolling over, talking about how they would go to the stables after Mountain Tim joined them in the room. You focused on unlocking your door, cringing when Gyro called your name. Without even looking over, you pushed into your room, slamming the door shut and locking it immediately after. As soon as you hit the mattress of your bed, you had fallen asleep.
And then, of course, you were flung out onto the street.
Your ears rung terribly as your body ached, rocks and splintered wood stabbing into parts of your body. Pools of crimson began to stream down your face, spilling from unseen wounds while you heaved for air. Considering you had just been blown out a window, your body felt like shit, but you had managed to gain enough strength to palm your head for your hat which sat there, untouched.
"Speedwagon!" You felt your arm fall limp— and there was Mountain Tim's body putting itself together right in front of you— and a blue blur came into your field of vision. Your body burned as the blur pulled you towards it and you had managed to make out Gyro glaring at some oddly-posed man in front of them. "Speedwagon, Speedwagon, can you hear me?!" the blur cried as its chest moved erratically.
Your throat felt too dry to say anything and you nodded as best you could, blocking the sound of talking and shouting with the ringing in your ears. It felt almost impossible to even breathe, let alone talk. When you were finally able to make out who the blur was, Johnny had dragged you onto his wheelchair and Gyro had held his hands out in front of them. You tilted your head back, feeling your hat loosen. Your hand shot up to hold it in place, Johnny giving you a look before his eyes widened.
"Gyro! The ground! He kicked something this way!" His grip on you tightened significantly and his chest heaved as it had before. You pulled his hand into hers, squeezing it to both keep yourself awake and to calm him down. As you sat there though, you could swear you felt blood slowly rushing back to your head. "No, Gyro! Get away from the mouse!" screamed Mountain Tim from behind them. Johnny stiffened from beneath you and you watched his face contort into fear, his already pale face going paler instantly.
Can I request something for Leone abbacchio? Maybe where his s/o dies. Something where the reader was alone at the base, and there are clear signs of a fight but the only body in sight Is that if the opponent. So abbacchio uses moody blues to try and trace where she is, henceforth seeing the fight pretty much blow for blow up till the fatal blow executed upon the reader, and where she got to before finding her dead or dying.
Your Hands Felt Warmer Than Mine (Leone Abbacchio x Reader [Angst/Request])
Hey hey hey I’m terribly sorry this came out so late anon :,) Not going to lie I struggled a bit, but this was a valuable learning experience for me!! Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy!
CW: Gun usage, someone is shot.
——————
“What’s wrong?”
Abbacchio stops breathing air into his cupped hands.
“I didn’t bring my gloves out today,” he grumbles, rubbing his palms together.
You look at his jacket and notice that he doesn’t have pockets, either.
The leaves beneath the two of you paint the concrete with orange and brown hues. A gust of wind causes Abbacchio to shiver.
“Ah, wait.”
You slide your ungloved hands out of your pockets and cup his hands in your own.
Abbacchio stares at you in confusion. He lifts one of his eyebrows, “What are you doing?”
narancia placed down a card, everyone else’s biggest arch enemy. a +4 card - adding more cards into [y/n]’s pile of cards.
the duo, narancia and mista, high-fived each other. “YOU FUCKING RAT!” [y/n] screamed loudly, angrily collecting four more cards from the pile. “i was so fucking close to winning... fugo! give me the fucking fork!”
“it’s three am in the morning! go to bed, all four of you!” bucciarati groaned, using sticky fingers to teleport himself into the living room as he came out of the wall casually. “we have a mission tomorrow! give me those, clearly it keeps on distracting all of you!”
