♡ ྀི˖ ࣪ celebration
pairing: bruno bucciarati x reader
summary: bruno and the gang go back to Libeccio for old times’ sake, when due to the events of golden wind, things escalate quickly….
tags: smut, established relationship, post-gw, kinda exhibitionism?, puppy love, kinda angst if you squint, dead diavolo au, married couple, TEASING, fingering, oral (f!receiving), creampie, slight breeding kink(?), brat taming(?), gender neutral reader
a/n: first post yayayay. I hope my bruno lovers like this one…. i swear to become a dedicated bruno fic writer. ofc with other jjba characters and etc too. but mostly him.
word count: ~6k+
The afternoon settled in quietly, if it were not for your table.
6PM. Sunlight filtered in from the windows and drawn curtains of Libeccio, it softly splaying against tabletops, cloths, and tableware alike as the soft warmth trickled into the cozy restaurant.
People demurely chattered in the background, with silverware clinking against each other in the background. A soft, gentle atmosphere of nourishment and quiet relaxation began to set in the Italian sunny afternoon, as people began to wind down for the coming of night.
However, the Gang was not too worried about this.
The table slammed as Mista began to rant, his fist hitting the table quickly. You winced, trying to get him to get the memo of quieting down before you looked hesitantly upwards to the side, towards your husband. Bruno was already looking down at you, fondly, as he smiled softly your way in hopes of calming your nerves. His hand searched for yours under the table as your fingers intertwined, and he softly squeezed your hand reassuringly in his hold.
“There’s no way! There’s no actual way you just put TUPAC over Eminem!” Mista bantered, obviously passionate about whatever music topic they were already talking about when you and Bucciarati arrived together for the dinner event.
Before the event, Bucciarati’s nervousness was palpable. A soft tension filled the air as you two ransacked the house in pursuit of getting dressed. You, finding your perfect jewelry, whether that be your favorite bracelet or pearl necklace. But Bucciarati? He paced around your shared bedroom for a minute or two. Out of view and alone, with his own thoughts, of course.
It had been only a couple days to a week after Bruno and the gang had defeated Diavolo. In his mind, Bruno should be overjoyed he’s not six feet under right now. But, even then, a gnawing feeling in his throat where a lump had formed and an itchy feeling in his neck, he knew there were underlying feelings.
Bruno loved you- he did. When he made that decision to defeat Diavolo, and betray Passione once and for all, it was partly for Trish. And then partly for himself, too. But, even if he did shove the feeling down, he knew it was partly for you, too. He wanted more for you and him. Constantly wondering whether he’d come home at night when he worked. Having to leave you for days at a time. Being around some dangerous people he knows he wouldn’t ever let you around. He wanted an end to it all- especially those damned drugs.
So Bruno should be happy, after all.
Yet he was nervous.
Had to be.
He kept his usual calm, controlled demeanor. An unflinching face with an attitude that could control storms. He never let you see. But, deep in his guts, he knew— he never wanted to take you for granted again— not his relationship with you, your love, your touch………because, even when he was dying, when his soul left his body and he could feel himself slowly ascending to heaven, he thought of you. Even when he thought of the mission. Of Giorno’s dream. When Giorno revived him, and he thought about the stakes at hand, too.
Looking down at his own body, bisected and torn, ……all he could focus on was you. Your face. Your laugh. Never getting to see you again. Never getting that house on the Naples beach to share with you. Those quiet, gentle golden dinners.
He knew he couldn’t do it again.
He knew something had to change.
Because, deep in his guts, the deepest recesses of his brain, he knew all he wanted was to spend his life with you. His spouse. His one and only.
As he tried to snap himself out of it, he couldn’t help but still feel that nagging feeling low in his stomach. Even as he drove down to Libeccio, with you in tow.
And now……
Narancia’s annoyance was immediately evident on his face, his expression contorting into one of disgust and disbelief as he retorted. “Well no shit, dipshit! Eminem’s only popular ‘cause he’s fucking white.”. While the entire party waited for food, this was just commonplace for you all to be particular nuisances whenever you came along. Fugo looked particularly disinterested, sighing as he tried to bury his face even deeper into his book. Abbacchio was in the corner of the table, eyes closed, too absorbed in his own headphones and music to care about whatever was going on outside of it.
Trish wasn’t too bothered, though, with her fist holding her head up as her other arm laid down on the table flat. She was hooked into the conversation pretty well, even going as far as to lean in to hear better— but it was of no matter to Mista and Narancia. Giorno was sitting there in the center of the table, looking quietly content as a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips, as he began looking at Mista and Narancia too.
Giorno tilted his head in satisfaction, scanning over the area as he looked back at the table. ‘They’re awfully energetic’, he thought, as his hand moved upwards to cup his chin.
Even when the victory of days prior was supposed to be settling in by now, changes to Passione announced and all, the weight and heaviness of this new responsibility came through deeply in everyone’s hearts and minds. Giorno and Bruno knew this best of all. With Giorno as the new Don and Bruno his right hand man (the Consigliere), major changes had to be made.
But that was to wait, for now. Because as the afternoon began to settle, you and the gang just had to relax. That was a problem for another day.
Returning Bruno’s hand squeeze, you nodded your head in self-confidence as you decided to enter the conversation. Even as Mista and Narancia bickered…
“Well, I think Outkast is pretty great, too,” you said, voice cutting through the back-and-forth of the argument like a butter knife through bread. You had a lopsided smile on your face, expression a little dazed, as you tried your absolute best to look interested in the conversation at hand.
It only took a beat for Mista and Narancia to break from the silence and just blink at you, paused.
“I’m serious, though. Outkast is literally top 10 rappers out there at LEAST. And nobody ever talks about them.” You asserted, starting to get passionate, as Trish began to look at you.
“Them too!” Mista immediately butted in.
“You dumbass! You didn’t even know who they were 10 seconds ago!” Narancia groaned, now looking completely done with Mista.
The table then began to erupt into almost complete laughter, with everyone laughing and chuckling, seldom Abbacchio and Fugo.
Bruno should’ve been looking elsewhere. He should’ve been looking at the group. But instead, all his eyes could track, and all his eyes wanted to look, at was you. The way you laughed, your hair moving and eyes flashing brightly in the sunlight becoming intoxicating to him as a faint blush began to appear on his ears, creeping up his neck to his cheeks too.
He only chuckled softly at the situation earlier, but quickly found himself captivated by you and unable to look away.
Sensing his stare, you glanced at him quickly only to spot his gaze as you instantly looked away bashfully. Your laugh died down into a quiet hush as Mista and Narancia then began debating about who would win a rap battle: Outkast vs Tupac.
“Bruno, what’s with the stare?” You giggled, a grin spreading your lips as you tried to cover your cheeky grin with a hand pulled up towards your lips. He only smiled at you softly once more in response, his eyes focused on your visage intensely as to commit the moment into memory.
“You’re just too cute,” he confessed.
Rolling your eyes, you pushed him gently yet playfully.
Yet, you would find, this wouldn’t be an isolated incident.
The waiter came in soon after, rolling the cart of meals and sweets alike as he began distributing it around the table.
Eating your carbonara and he, his bruschetta, you still remained oblivious to the true extent of Bruno’s staring.
You put a mouthful of carbonara into your mouth, chewing slowly, as you watched Fugo and Abbacchio finally put down their distractions, becoming invested again at the celebration dinner playing out before them.
As your gaze switched over to your food, you began to sense the stare your husband was shooting at you as you glanced at him quickly- only to see him staring still.
But this incident was the worst of all, because you could clearly see his lower lip between his teeth, biting his lip smoothly.
Slowly but surely, a twisted, evil idea, began to sink into your mind.
As he began to scarf down his bruschetta, quickly trying to distract himself from both his less than holy thoughts AND poor manners, he started to think.
He was a modest man. At least, he tried to be. He was always respectful, in tune with your emotions, and always answering to your every whim and wish.
So how could he be so lacking in modesty now?
He tried to wrap his head around it, yet failed miserably.
But then he remembered that nagging, low feeling deep in his chest. The one that was scared. The one that was ecstatic at the same time. And the one that also wanted to show you how grateful he really was to still be with you and present, was still there.
Bruno wanted to get home— as unassumingly quick as possible, taking his time to ease you up to the idea before he ruined you— for at least hours at a time, all to show you how he’d never let you go again. To show you that he’ll never leave you.
And most importantly, to show you that he’ll never make you go through anything as traumatizing as even thinking you lost him again.
So, even as his blush now burned pink, flushing his face, you began to twirl some more of your carbonara into your fork and held it up as you enacted your evil, silly little plan.
Before his blush became too obvious for anyone to spot, especially to Narancia’s leering gaze, you quickly pretended to sneeze, an ACHOO! hitting the air and reverberating in everyone’s ear canals before you flinched, jumping at the table as it made another sound.
As you lerched forwards into the table, you made sure to tip your fork his way as your fork magically fell. out of your grasp onto the bottom of his expensive, white tailored blazer.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Bruno,” you pleaded apologetically as you feigned your innocence as best you could.
Bruno’s head immediately looked down, witnessing the fork on his lap now as he sighed. “It’s okay, cara,” he reassured as he picked up the fork and set it down on the table.
You immediately jumped up, grabbing some napkins at the table quickly as you began to dab at the increasing stain on his lower abdomen. “Nonsenseee,” you groaned, coughing before speaking again. “Come on, let’s go to the bathroom, so I can get you fixed up,” you ushered him upwards, as he began hesitantly but trustingly following you.
As everyone stared in silence, a few seconds later, everyone began to focus on their conversations and food as everyone but Leone resumed their own business. His eyebrow rose, following you in suspicion before he shook his head, understanding the tension at hand, before putting his headphones back on and shuffling his playlist.
As you two rushed into the women’s bathroom with luckily nobody else inside (due to the restaurant closing soon), tensions were already high as you let the door close behind you and Bruno already dragged into a single stall.
Bruno looked at you with simply wide eyes as you huffed, trying to smoothen yourself out and gain more composure before speaking again once more.
“Bruno, what was that back there?” You asked, seemingly annoyed and frustrated.
Bruno’s lips opened, then closed momentarily, brows furrowing as he contemplated how to respond to your puzzling question.
“I’m sorry, bella—” he said before you quickly cut him off.
“You made us look like, you know, we had something going on!” you groaned, trying to quiet your tone so it wouldn’t reach walls outside of the bathroom.
“We both have reputations to uphold, we can’t be getting too close and personal in public!” you continued to rant as you ran your fingers through your hair.
Getting carried away, you were busy looking at the floor, biting your nails with anxiety as you looked upwards back towards your husband.
The sight you beheld in front of you made you want to rip your own hair out.
Bruno, standing there in the stall, was just staring at your lips with lidded, dazed eyes as he quickly noticed your deadpan stare.
“I can’t help it,” he chuckled, eyes flickering back up to his eyes as you began to cross your arms.
Before you could finish that gesture, though, he planned to take your mind off it, as he closed in on you with his chest pushing you to the side of the wall, him moving you with his hands slinking around your waist as he kissed you deeply.
His lips moved against yours with precision, like waves, as you slowly leaned into the kiss, both of you closing your eyes. His tongue sure enough after another beat began to lick at and poke your mouth, asking for permission, as he tilted his head.
Whimpering, and definitely caught off guard, your hands moved up to wrap around his neck as you opened your mouth, granting your smitten husband permission.
He groaned, accidentally rocking his hips into yours with a slow yet gentle thrust as you whimpered again. The kiss began to turn into a full on makeout session, as his tongue began to caress your tongue and dance around your mouth as he licked up every bit of carbonara sauce he could.
Trying not to get too carried away, you tenderly pushed him, ripping your mouth from his as you both began to catch your breaths.
“What has gotten into you today,” you whisper, stunned, as your hands found his cheeks, thumbs softly caressing his strong cheekbones.
He simply nuzzles into your touch, his hand sliding up to return your gesture as he looks at you with those love-sick eyes you’d recognize any day, out of a crowd of men.
“I missed you,” he rasps, all he can muster out, as he slowly closes in for another kiss.
Sighing, you make him stand straight. “Seriously, Bruno, tell me what it is. You can usually wait until we get home.” you reason, looking him in the eyes as if with a silent plead for him to tell you the truth and the entire, complete truth.
Looking away, Bruno contemplates for a second, before looking back into your eyes. He sighs as well for a second before pulling himself together. “To be honest with you, cara,” he begins, his eyes starting to water before he blinks them away.
His hands come to yours, encasing them in his gentle hold once more as he tilts his head.
“I’ve been distracted. I’ve been hurt, and I’ve been thinking of how I almost lost you, lost the gang, lost everyone.”
“I can’t sit here and pretend anymore like that wasn’t the scariest moment of my entire life. Not getting to see my partner another day,” he continued.
“I miss you more than I ever have in my entire life, and you’re right here in front of me. All I can think about is how you’re mine. How I want to spend every day with you for the rest of my life. How much I missed the smell of your hair, your touch,” he rasps once more, voice breaking.
He gives your hands another gentle squeeze before recomposing himself.
“What I mean to say, is,” he coughs.
“I was reckless. I didn’t think about how I could’ve lost you. How you could’ve lost me. And now,” he says slowly, looking straight into your eyes as if he were lost in the sea of your eyes.
He begins to bring your hand up to his, leaning down slowly.
He brings your knuckles specifically to his lips, kissing them softly, as his thumb caresses your palm and hand caresses yours sweetly.
“All I want to do is show you. Maybe start that family we always dreamed of,” he said, almost with a teasing lilt, as he smiled like a Cheshire cat. The sly smirk reached his eyes, making them a little lidded, as he regained his posture.
“But not now. Not here,” he asserted.
“I’ll set up a day, just you and me. Then, with a room full of petals and wine, we can fully embrace each other. All day. No distractions,” he promised, looking once more into your eyes, looking every bit the loving and affectionate husband you always knew him to be.
But, he unleashed a demon he didn’t know existed. Blinking back tears yourself, you swallowed down a lump in your throat as you coughed, clearing it out. “Bruno, I—” you choked out, trying to process his emotional explanation.
He waited for you, patiently, eyes flickering all across your face as he sought to gauge your every reaction.
“Bruno, you should’ve told me before this,” you said, looking away, before you suddenly pulled him by his collar, yanking him to your head as you went into for another kiss.
Your hands frantically began to search his body, infiltrating his suit jacket via his chest cutout before going up to his cheeks and jawline as you began to pant in his mouth, lips moving against his in a rhythm already.
His eyes were already closed, him savoring every second of this moment, your presence, and the feel of your lips on his when you begin whimpering again into his mouth, making his cock twitch in his pants.
You break away suddenly, a string of saliva connecting you and him together as you two parted on either sides of the bathroom stall.
You stared at him for a second, silent yet heavy with tension, when you finally spoke.
“Let’s do it, right here, right now,” you choke out yet again.
Immediately, Bruno’s eyes are wide, as he clears his throat before speaking quickly, as to not let your hopes up. “No, cara, not here,” he said, leaning in again so his nose was flush next to yours, your lips a centimeter apart.
But stubbornly, you shook your head no immediately. “No, Bruno, I need it, now,” you said with a whiny lilt, thighs already rubbing together.
He simply closed his eyes, trying to ward off the temptation of his spouse as he fought to keep himself in control.
“Tesoro, no, you’re far too precious, far too special…..” he said, sounding more desperate than he intended it to sound.
You just whined again, refusing to give up. You were going to get your way, whether he liked it or not. “Bruno, I appreciate you, but,” you said, leaning in even further to slide past his head to his ears as you whispered:
“I need this now. I need you now,”
He coughed, face beginning to turn flush.
And finally, something in him snapped. His need for control and dominance sprung into action as he slammed you flush against the walls of the stall, a thud echoing throughout the rest of the bathroom.
He began kissing you once more, his tongue giving you a quick once over on your tongue before he dipped his head lower, kissing your jawline, then the space below your ears, till eventually he got to your neck, where he began to lick and nip at lightly.
Remembering the rest of the gang back at the table, he quickly dismissed his dirty thought of marking you for others to see as he dipped his head even lower, wet, puffy lips over the junction of your neck where your neck and your shoulder met.
Knowing you could cover his marks up, his hands began to roam, his hands feeling you up through your clothes when he ran his hands down to your hips, resting there softly for a second or two, before moving to glide beneath your shirt. His meaty, thick fingers began to feel you up more systematically.
His hands roamed over your waist before moving upwards to your chest, caressing and fondling and squeezing as he saw fit before he quickly spun you around, his body flushing deeply against yours as your chest suddenly hit the flat of the wall in front of you.
Bruno knew there wasn’t much time to waste, so he did what he knew best, and that was to make you cum.
He quickly shrugged off your shorts, making you gasp, as his length began to press against the curve of your ass. Your panties were quick to fall next as he immediately dove down, kneeling, when he quickly began to lap at your neglected, already dripping cunt.
He ate it like a starved man, his tongue gathering your juices as his fingers already rose up to assist him in his efforts.
His fingers traced the ring of your labia, dancing around your clit once or twice before generously dipping into your cunt. He began to tongue fuck you then, hurriedly, as his tongue already poked your entrance in light thrusts.
As his tongue eased its way in, the tense muscle thrusting in deeper and deeper, Bruno groaned with the taste of your cunt on his tongue he savored oh so deeply. But, despite this, his fingers then turned its attention on your clit, where you really wanted all the attention at. In slow, small circles, his fingers rubbed your clit which made moan after louder moan leak from your lips, despite your protests and determination not to be so noisy.
Your sweet sounds of pleasure were all too familiar to Bruno by this point, as his other hand not dug into your cunt squeezed your thigh as if to remind you the reality you two endured.
Trying to muffle your cries, your whimpering and almost pleads of submission drove Bruno to no end as his fingers began tracing even tighter circles around your sensitive clit.
Engorged, your clit throbbed, as the familiar coil of tightness began to wind deeper and deeper inside your gut, and you knew that soon your release would soon coat his body.
Determined to finish this quickly, Bruno gathered up your glistening slick with his deft, yet quick fingers as he thrust a finger into your cunt. Then two. And instantly, your hands flew up to the bathrooms wall, as those moans of pleasure you fought to keep unnoticed threatened to break out in the heat of passion. You groaned, trying to keep your moans at bay, when his tongue began to swirl around your fluttering walls sensually and his two broad fingers rubbed against that gummy, sensitive part.
The coil finally snapping, you cried out in pleasure as your walls clenched around him, his tongue exiting quickly to allow for his fingers to thrust into you even deeper through your orgasm. Your legs quivered as your release dripped down your thighs, your release slowly ebbing away even as the waves of it began washing over you one by one. Feeling your walls flutter, Bruno knows you’re in ecstasy by now when he quickly undos his belt to shove his trousers down just enough to allow his boxers to quickly join it above his knees.
His cock stood rigid and tall, head already a flushed pink as it twitched, rugged veins running all around his length. For as long as you’ve been married to Bruno, you knew about his generous size, but even as you took it time and time again, it always managed to surprise you just how well endowed your kind husband really was.
Even when he was gentle you felt stuffed to the brim. His length curved upwards with just enough thickness and veins in the right spot to make you start to scream his name.
Yet, every time, he was nonetheless humble.
As he guided his cock to your puffy, swollen entrance, your clit throbbed yet again as your greedy cunt spit over his length.
Still ever the more teasing, he ran his length up and down your cunt with hips in a rocking motion as he rubbed, not entered, your waiting entrance.
“Pl-Please, Bruno,” you begged for mercy as you tried to look back at your merciless, yet loving, husband.
“Shh, mia dolce ragazza,” he cooed, his posture leaning in to fit yours as his breath began to coat your earlobe.
“You wanted this. Now take it, like you’re made to,” he set you in place.
His bulging head then began to rock against your clit, making it throb even harder, as you bit your lip in an effort to quiet down.
Every time his fat head knocked, rubbed against your clit, a strike of pleasure would hit you, leaving you gasping, begging for more.
“Bruno!” you finally shout out, in a more hushed tone, as his hips finally halted.
Chuckling, he kissed your neck sweetly and used one of his hands to gently move the rest of your hair away from your neck as the other hand moved downwards, slower, to guide his cock to your well awaited core.
He grabbed his cock in hand at the base as he lined it up with your entrance, his hot breath and pants in your ear as he began to place wet, sloppy and hot kisses all over the column of your neck— the back of it, of course.
Rocking your hips slowly back onto his, he grunted, before his cockhead split you into two. His tip bullied in, stretching you deliciously as he entered you once, then pulled out completely.
He entered you twice, only the throbbing tip inside, before he pulled out once more.
An evil grin began to place itself on his face as he finally gained that control he sought after when you had taken it so brutally from him earlier.
You whined, feeling his deep grin on the back of your neck as his forehead nuzzled the back of your head. “Bruno! Please, Bucci? Bucciarati?” you pleaded, ready for nothing but his cock as you tried to look back at him once more.
“You shouldn’t have teased me, cara,” is the only thing he can hoarsely mutter out as he entered you again, finally taking his cock deeper than the tip inside you as his length finally began to give you the true stretch.
His length pushed its way in, even through the tightness of your inner walls and the way you almost fought to keep him out as he grunted. “So tight,” he mustered against your ear once more as his hips began to rock against you once more. Soft “plap!”and “clap!”s began to fill the air as his balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, and each thrust he gave you was deep and fulfilling.
You kept your whimpers low, your true moans hidden beneath the surface which he knew all too well as you fought desperately to obey your new Consigliere.
But deep down, you knew that was a losing battle.
His hips began to pick up the pace, upping the ante a bit as his selfish desires began to peek their rear heads from within his gut. He tried to muffle the sounds of skin against skin as best he could, yet try as he might, they still came out. His cock desperately twitched in your walls, hungry to find release in your core as his tip began to bully against your cervix again and again.
You cried out, ready to let your torrent of moans let loose when the door suddenly creaked open.
His hips immediately stalled all movement as his breath caught, your own suddenly caught in your throat as you gulped.
Mista peered his curious head in, wondering about the heady smell in the air he chalked up to just bathroom air as he looked around. “Uhh, are you two gonna be done soon?” he asked, potentially vague about what he was referring to on purpose as the heels of his shoes clicked.
Quickly, you tried to regain whatever sense of dignity and modesty you had left in you when you eagerly piped up. “Yeah! We’re fine, I just had to take his shirt off because the stain was way deeper than we thought!” you explained, voice steady and not breaking an inch as he blinked in mild confusion.
“Whatever you say, boss,” he said before standing back up from leaning on the door and leaving, the soft click of the door closing behind him a beat later as you two panted softly.
After a second or two more of waiting, you two knew the coast was clear when his cock, all the more impatient compared to his owner, pulsed again in your cunt.
He chuckled, softly swaying his head side to side in a “no” fashion as he looked at you fondly. “You’re a horrible liar, you know that, right?” he teases.
You scoff, even in such dirty submission.
“Yeah, must’ve learned from you,” you egged back, as your hips softly swayed as if teasing him further on his hips.
He groaned, scoffing lowly as he pushed his hips in as deep as he could get, intertwined with you in every sense of the word as his balls tightened against his cock. “You’re dangerous,” he mocked, thrusting in you pitifully before putting his form flush against your back once more.
“Yet that was the wrong move.” he finally answered, as his hips pulled back slightly to thrust back into you. He set a harsh precedent this time with his hips colliding into yours faster, hitting animalistic paces, as his cock now sponged against your cervix and began hitting your gummy g-spot with accurate, scary precision.
You immediately jolted, eyes widening in surprise as you closed your eyes immediately in forgiveness as he reminded you of exactly how he handled you. Why he was your husband, and nobody else could amount.
You fought to keep your moans in urgently, ardently, as little squeaks and peeps began to rush from your lips. Your body shook upwards with every thrust Bucciarati granted you, and you knew you could do nothing but take it as you felt another flood of moans bubbling up deep in your gut.
“Bruno, please— i’m sorry—“ you choked out, breathing heightening rapidly as he took you fiercely. Yet his hips didn’t falter, another sick grin on his face as his eyes dropped, the hunger in them apparent as his pupils nearly blacked out his eyes. “You asked for this,” he whispered. “You wanted this. I’m—“ he choked out himself, moaning at a tight clench from your cunt. “’m only giving my pretty tesoro what they wanted,” he grunted, his pace increasing even steadier, as he felt his cock begin to throb in anticipation anew.
You couldn’t help yourself, shoving your hand downwards as you rubbed your own clit harshly, Bruno’s hands suddenly flying to your hips as he gripped them with a tight hold, desperate to make you cum, as your flood of moans finally came tumbling out.
Moan after moan you let out, some of them including his name, his movements becoming more and more frantic and more and more driven as he climbed to your release with only that goal in mind.
Finally, that tension in your coil snapped, as you released over his cock again, making Bruno grunt and hilt himself to the very end as you shook against him, the force of your orgasm taking you by the hand as you let out a loud, echoey moan that reverberated against the restaurant bathroom walls and you shuddered.
Bruno’s hips still rocked hard against yours even through your orgasm as he felt your walls clench him tighter than ever before, only to flutter against his length, your walls rubbing him sweetly at the same time. He moaned, the moan growing louder and more insistent as he shut his eyes, thinking of your release dripping down his balls to the bathroom floor. “Fuck, _____!” he hissed as his length finally gave way, hardening even further in his own enlarged state as his now red cockhead began to twitch violently, rope after thick, gooey rope flooding your womb with pleasurable force as his balls spasmed and hips still flushed against yours.
His cock let out rope after rope of release that seemed to go on forever, his soft grunts and moans of “I love you” melting in your ear as you both rode the waves of your orgasm and exhaustion.
As more soft pants and breaths of air filled the air, Bruno slipped his softening cock out of your core and tucked it neatly back into his boxers and he pulled his boxers + trousers back up. He quickly got some toilet paper from the stall and plugged up your dripping slit, it puffed out and sensitive still as you shuddered.
“Careful, mio caro,” you hushed out as he smirked, tsking. “I know how to take care of you,” he reassured you softly, running kisses down your back as he softly patted your pussy with the paper, the excess of his seed oozing out of you slowly.
“You always looked so beautiful like this,” he praised, in another trance as he felt the cum gather on the toilet paper.
“Claimed by me. Mine wholly.” he added, a smirk tugging on his lips. He knew deep in his heart no one could fuck you the way he does.
You rolled your eyes.
“What, you need a pregnancy to prove i’m truly yours?” you scoffed.
“Precisely.” he finished, finally throwing away the toilet paper in the can as he smacked your ass playfully, lowering himself to pick up your panties and pants as he tugged them higher onto your sweltering form.
You sighed, getting out of the stall one at a time as you both got ready in the bathroom mirrors so as to not look too ruffled or messed up.
Shooting glances at each other even after what had gone down, you both smirked as you knew this was not the last you two would hear about this affair.
As Bruno straightened his blazer, he stood tall and proud once more as he looked himself in the mirror— looking every bit the Consigliere he knew he was now ready to embrace.
He took you, waist in hand, back to the table where the stain magically washed out of his blazer with only a wet water stain where the carbonara sauce once was.
The restaurant had already gotten close to closing for the day, everyone in the group already standing up and chattering amongst themselves in groups of when they spotted you two.
With bright, smiling eyes, Narancia and Trish waved you two over, as they resumed talking about their favorite dishes and plans for tomorrow when you all were finally ready to leave.
Somehow managing to seamlessly integrate back into the group, you all left back to your own homes as Bruno and Leone chatted before walking home. “So, just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Leone bantered, a playful smirk tugging on his own lips as he stared at Bucciarati knowingly.
Bucciarati coughed, quickly looking away, as a faint blush began to appear yet again.
“That’s of no importance.” he asserted, playfully scoffing at the man before him before turning to wrap his arm around your waist, looking back at Abbacchio softly.
“It’s a story for another day. Arrivederci, Leone.” he bid farewell, with you in tow, as you two giggled all the way back home.
