Abbacchio X Reader - Blog Posts

i’m pissing myself i need more abbacchio x reader content or ill explode and im afraid of character.ai and wattpad has barely anything and i’ve already read everything on there and ao3 is freaky as hell i swear there’s an abbacchio x reader vore thing that scared me where is the normal content bro i’m gonna cry not trying to sound like a brat guys i just love abbacchio and reading fanfics is my specialty

real asf!!!

just letting everyone know that if i had to get initiated into bucciaratis gang by drinking abbacchios piss, i’m drinking every drop straight from the tap!!!

SCREAMING JUMPING WITH JOY SPINNING AROUND AAAAAAHAHHSHDJFJ ABBACCHIO I LOVE HIM AAAAA

perfect (abbacchio)

⁺ . ✦ .　⁺ jojo's bizzare adventure (abbacchio x reader) ⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺

content (18+): nsfw, oh he hates you...

word count: 4.4k

a tune for you: not another song about love (hollywood ending) lol

Moonlight trickled through the open shutters, the alabaster rays of soft light highlighting the room in uniform streaks, interrupted only by the glow of the monitor in front of you. Map after map, tab after tab, click after click, you persist, shuffling through the information as your eyes strain to continue looking at that damned screen. It had been hours – no, days – trying to figure out where this hideout was, and to no avail, a previously unwavering hope staring to dim with every new dead end. The work usually becomes intoxicating when you sink into it, the circuits of your brain firing with dedication and grit, attention usually unwavering. But it was something about tonight; your mind wandered, shuffling through memories like a filing cabinet, searching for some kind of answer.

You never understood why he hated you so much. What had you really done?

It wasn’t as if you were useless, or a delinquent. Undertrained? Perhaps, you could admit that, but your Stand had only awoken a few months prior, after first meeting Bucciarati and Polpo. Since then, you had been nothing short of dedicated. So why?

You rub your eyes, quickly realizing the futility of being caught up on such uncontrollable things. More important was the map in front of you. Of course.

A gentle knock causes your head to snap in the direction of the nearby door, the emptiness of the room creating a hollow echo.

“Come in,” you call curiously, checking your watch. 10:30.

Bucciarati peeks his head around the door with an appreciative and knowing smile, his hand lingering on the door’s handle as he steps into the room.

“Thought we’d check on you,” he starts, now walking towards the desk. “Any progress?”

We?

You tense slightly as you see Abbacchio follow behind Bucciarati, his unreadable eyes scanning the room for a moment before falling on you.

“You should really turn a light on in here… You’re going to kill your eyes,” Bucciarati says, leaning over to snap on the lamp perched on the desk. The unwelcome brightness causes your eyes to flutter shut for a moment before readjusting with a sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you mumble softly with a nod before turning back to the screen. “As for updates… I can tell you where the location isn’t. No progress on where it is, though.”

Bucciarati hums softly, clearly disappointed as his hand moves to his chin in thought. Abbacchio, on the other hand, makes a sound that can only be described as a grumble, before looking away from the screen.

“Not even a general area?” Bucciarati eventually asks.

“Well, depends on how general you’re looking for,” you reply, gesturing to the map. “I’m certain it’s among these streets, however, it’s probably too large to survey. It’s just… a lot of data to go through alone… Sorry.”

“You need another hand?”

“Well,” you tilt your head in thought. “I guess someone else would help… I think alone I can finish in another few days, but it might be quicker if someone else is available.”

“Abbacchio,” Bucciarati speaks, standing up straight and turning to the man beside him. “Help her tomorrow.” Abbacchio scoffs, waving his hand for a moment before replying.

“She said herself she can do it alone,” he retorts, expression hardening with his mumble.

“She also said it would be faster with help. The quicker we know the location, the quicker we get paid. Now,” Bucciarati continues, placing a hand on Abbacchio’s shoulder before turning to walk out of the room. “Both of you can discuss a plan for tomorrow, and then seriously, go to bed. It’s unhealthy to be working so late.”

A light smile tugs at your lips as you nod, grateful to be nearly done for the day. Abbacchio opens his mouth, as if to protest, but quickly closes it and looks away, nodding with a slight huff as Bucciarati leaves, closing the door behind him.

“So,” you clear your throat nervously, shifting the desk chair to the side before turning back to the monitor. “Really what I need is you to read these files, and-”

“How long is this going to take?” Abbacchio interjects in annoyance.

“I… I don’t know. I mean, if you read fast, a couple hours. Just scan the police reports and tell me where the units were in each of them. I’m trying to triangulate the location,” you explain calmly, trying to soothe your beating heart.

“Fine,” he crosses his arms, standing up straight, narrowed eyes darting across your face.

You nod again, standing up from your chair awkwardly as you put the computer to sleep. Quickly organizing the papers sprawled out on the desk, you try to relax your tensed shoulders, secretly hoping he’ll leave, saving you the trouble of having to engage in small talk. And again, with the quick switch of the lamp, the room is left in eerie darkness.

Much to your surprise, he lingers, body rigid with agitation. He clears his throat as you stand up straight, though you want nothing more than to walk out that door, mere feet away from you.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t want to be doing this either,” you nod and speak quietly, trying to be reassuring as if he expected you to say something.

“Don’t. Just, don’t,” he snaps, his voice strained. It was though you could feel his temper slowly running out. You nod, eyes suddenly finding the carpet very interesting as you wait for him to leave the room.

“Why do you have to apologize all the time,” he mumbles, almost under his breath as he steps towards the door.

“What?” you reply, though quickly regret even speaking.

“You always apologize for no reason,” he turns to you, words almost coming out as a growl. “It really pisses me off.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorr-” you pause, swallowing nervously before correcting yourself. “I mean… I’ll avoid it in the future.”

“Why?” his question lingers in the air, and in the darkness, you swear you see him step closer.

“I… I don’t know, I just feel like you’re always angry at me,” you whisper the last few words quietly, as if almost afraid to admit it.

“You don’t know why?” he scoffs, mindlessly cracking his knuckles. “You never react to anything…” his deep voice drops further, each syllable accentuated with irritation.

You take a meek step back, your hands meeting behind your back as you look up at him. Pursing your lips, ridden with anxiety, you can only wonder what exactly you’re doing wrong.

“God, why can’t you just be a normal person? Even now,” he rolls his eyes, stepping closer to you. “You’re too damn respectful even when you shouldn’t be. It’s infuriating…”

“I’m… too respectful?” you tilt your head to the side, confusion peeking through your nervousness. “Should I not be-”

Something in him seemed to snap, your words interrupted as he pushes you back into a nearby wall, firmly holding you in place by your shoulder.

“You’re too quiet and agreeable, all the time,” he spits with anger, his body pressing closer to yours. “It’s as if nothing can make you angry.”

His breathing grows heavier, dark eyes looking down at you as he tightens his grip on your shoulder, his other hand clenching into a fist at his side. You’re trapped, his hips nearly touching yours, your back pressed tight against the wall, the palms of your hands sweating against the paint.

“I…” you begin to studder, the words getting lost in your throat as you look up into his eyes.

He leans forward, his face now inches from yours, etched with anger and irritation, yet somehow… conflicted.

“You never get mad, or raise your voice…” he mutters softly, voice still dripping with frustration.

His other forearm moves beside your head, further restricting your movement and encasing you further against the wall. You can feel his hot breath against your skin, noticing the way his eyes travel across your features and down your body.

You were sure he could hear your heartbeat, the way it raced like a drum, pounding almost painfully at your ribs, the sensation growing more powerful as the seconds passed. His eyes meet yours, his gaze now unwavering. He’s so close. Impossibly close.

“It’s like you’re… perfect. It drives me insane,” he mumbles, voice barely a hushed whisper, the soft brush of air tickling your cheek.

“W- what?” you breathe in shock, eyes searching his face in the darkness. “What do you-”

“Shut up,” he grumbles firmly, his eyes flickering down to your lips in the darkness. His grip on your shoulder was tight, almost painful, as his other and traveled down towards your face.

Silence permeated the room, broken only by the mingling sound of deep breaths. The heat of your bodies nearly pressed together was overwhelming, and his hand on your shoulder was like fire through the fabric of your clothes. You search his face desperately, your vision subconsciously drawn to his lips, which softly part.

Suddenly, his expression softened, more than before and only slightly, as if the last of his anger and frustration had begun their transition to something new. Something more dangerous.

Within a second, his hand gently releases your shoulder, fingers lingering on the seam of your shirt before wandering down your arm, his touch light and tantalizing. His other hand now reaches towards your cheek, pushing back a strand of hair and slowly caressing it with his thumb.

“Tell me to stop…” he whispers again, almost desperately now, his vision clouded with urgency and desire.

The words catch in your throat, if there were any words in the first place. You can’t reply, or rather, you don’t know if you want to. Inhaling sharply at his tender touch, you can’t seem to look away from him, your body frozen in an unfamiliar blend of anxiety and yearning.

“You should… You should stop me,” he insists, his hand now moving to your waist, pressing you further against the wall.

But you can’t.

God, you want to. You want to leave and forget this confusing interaction ever happened but the more you look up to his lips the more you feel yourself melting into his touch. He hates you, and you know that, but something about it makes your chest tighten.

It’s conflicting; you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

He felt your breath hitch, and in a second he was kissing you. It wasn’t smooth or gentle, but rather like a crash of waves, his teeth roughly colliding with yours in desperation. And how it was filled with frustration, as if you both resented it but couldn't stop.

His hand found your scalp, pulling your head back and deepening the kiss further as his tongue finds yours. God, you hated it. Hated the way he tasted so sweet, hated the way his hand ran up your body, hated the way you wanted him so badly, as if starved for his touch.

The kiss grows hungrier with every passing second, unbroken even as you both struggle to breathe, mind and body focused only on the sensation of his touch. You feel yourself grow lightheaded, breaking away for only a moment to gasp before his lips crash against yours yet again.

You’re drowning in the sensation of him, stars dancing along the sides of your vision as your hands move to his chest, fingers sliding gently across the opening of his shirt. He groans, the sound swallowed by the proximity of your lips, just as he shifts his grip to your waist, pulling you closer into him.

A soft moan escapes your lips as you feel your hips press against his, your back instinctively arching and eliciting another desperate sound from him. He whispers your name against your lips, tone laced with agitation and need as he grinds his hips against yours, pushing you further against the wall.

“Abbacchio-” you whimper back, only to be silenced as he plants a wet kiss just below your jawline.

“Just… be quiet,” he grumbles, lips grazing your neck before he rests his forehead against the wall behind you. You hear his breaths coming in uneven, chest heaving up and down almost tumultuously. He sighs, and you feel his grip tightening in your hair, the tug making you wince slightly.

Gently, you run your hand further up his chest, fingers brushing along his collarbone and neck before settling in his hair. You feel him shudder under his touch, his hand on your hip tightening as his fingers dig into your skin.

“S-stop,” he hisses softly, swallowing a groan caught in his throat. “I’m trying to…”

You bite your lip, trying to control your own breathing. He’s right; you shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s far too late for reason and restraint. You continue to run your hand through his hair, coaxing another soft groan from Abbacchio who presses his head further against the wall.

“You… you’re too…” the words seem lost in his mind, his shallow breaths growing more erratic as your palm feels his racing heart, his forehead pulling back from the wall. “Too… perfect.”

With the final husky word, his lips find yours again as his hand tugs your chin up to meet his mouth. It’s different from before: just forceful and passionate, but with an inexplicable affection, conveyed by the way his hand traces along your jawline, thumb softly caressing your cheek as your lips continue to move against his.

Your arms wrap around his neck, tenderly pulling your body closer to his without breaking the kiss. He responds almost immediately, both hands moving to your hips as he moves you into him, grinding himself against you.

Your breath hitches as he continues, shifting his thigh between your legs and granting you more friction. He rocks you back and forth, upper body still pressing you against the wall.

One of his hands moves around your hips, running along the bottom of your thigh as he tugs your leg up, hand fingers resting along the inside of your knee and pulling it to the side of his body. His hips move against yours again, the newfound angle drawing more soft moans from your lips.

Those sounds were his final straw, his other hand immediately grabbing your other thigh and pulling you off the ground and against his body. His lips never leave yours, the kiss growing deeper and more desperate as his patience wears thin, evident by his bulge now pressed against your hips.

He pulls you away from the wall, now urgently stumbling towards the desk which you had left, hands kneading into your skin. Your body feels as though it’s on fire, the feeling of your back being slammed onto the desk barely registering as your senses focus on the friction between your legs as Abbacchio grinds down on you.

He quickly lifts a hand to haphazardly shove aside the assortment of office supplies and technology hindering your ability lie flat, the monitor in particular making a crashing sound as it hits the wooden floor. He pulls you by the front of your shirt back up to him, your mouth smashing against his so hard and desperately you swear it’ll leave a bruise tomorrow.

His forearm rests gently on the desk beside your head as he situates his body between your legs again, tugging you down so your hips are flush with his own. He lets out a soft moan as you wrap your legs around him, the feeling of his muscles tensing on top of you leaving a shiver running down your spine.

“Off, now,” Abbacchio’s deep voice commands with fervor, already beginning to tug at your shirt. You barely have time to lift your arms as he strips it off of you, tossing it to the side with surprising forcefulness.

Without wasting a second, his hand slips under your bra, cupping your breast and making your breath catch in your throat. He uses his other hand to tilt your head back against the desk, now nipping at the sensitive skin below your jaw.

Your body is taught with desire, the feeling of his hand beginning to press and squeeze your skin only heightening the sensation. Your back arches as you feel his hot breath against your neck, his free hand moving behind you to unclip your bra.

As it falls to the side, he pulls back for the first time, eyes roaming across your body with appreciation and an undertone of frustration. His chest heaves as a soft sound catches in his throat, eyes eventually trailing up to meet yours in the moonlight, pupils dilated with hunger.

“Perfect,” he grumbles under his breath, the flattering word spoken with a hint of vexation. You open your mouth to speak but are silenced by the feeling of him unzipping your pants, already pulling them off of you, with your underwear quickly following behind.

You gasp as the cold air hits your skin, heightened by the feeling of him spreading your legs once again. He settles between them, leaning over you with a forearm beside your head, his hand beginning to stroke the hair along your scalp.

His other hand drifts downwards, touch gentle and light as he teases his way along your sternum and stomach. You swallow in anticipation, eyes looking up at his as you bite your lip, silently praying that he can see how badly you need him without having spoken a word.

His gaze grows hazy, his eyes shutting for a brief moment as if controlling himself, before his fingers finally travel lower, right where you want them.

He lets out a soft gasp as he feels you, before mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath. As he begins to move his fingers against you, you find your head digging further back against the hard wood of the desk, your hand coming up to grip his shoulder.

Softly, he slips a finger into you, his knuckles curling gently to find the right spot. You gasp soft and squirm under him, your fingers digging more tightly into him. His other hand quickly finds its way to your chin, his elbow still resting on the table as he jerks your head back to face him, his eyes staring deep into yours.

“You’re going to look at me,” he whispers demandingly before his finger begins to move in and out of you, his thumb shifting to press against your clit.

You moan softly, eyes squeezing shut as you shiver in pleasure; his grip on your chin tightens as his fingers pause yet again.

“I said, look at me,” he hisses, his breath tickling your lips. You slowly open your eyes again, meeting his gaze as your body shivers in returned anticipation.

He continues his ministrations, fingers now moving quicker and deeper inside of you as you force your eyes to remain open, studying his features: the slight parting of his lips, his darkened eyes, the flush on his pale cheeks.

It’s now that you can really see the effect you’ve had on him, even in the low light. His eyes are half lidded, desperate and needy but somehow still frustrated. The soft purple of his lipstick is nearly gone from his lip, the edges smeared messily like watercolors.

You gasp as he pulls his fingers out of you, trailing up your folds before resting on your lower stomach. The emptiness almost hurts, the aching in your body returning as you crave more of his touch.

His lips quirk into a smirk, the expression almost feeling belittling as you lie beneath him, your naked form contrasting his fully clothed one.

“Please,” you whimper softly, biting your cheek in embarrassment as the words leave your mouth.

He scoffs slightly, pushing off of you as the smug expression remains plastered across his face. You sit up, watching as he removes his belt, the sound of metal hitting the floor almost electrifying, the anticipation nearly drawing a sound from your lips.

With an almost evil tantalization, he begins to strip, removing each piece of clothing slowly and with intent, eyes never leaving yours. He watches carefully as you study him, watching as his toned muscles contract as he moves, traveling down just in time to watch him tug at his own boxers.

His demeanor is different now, the anger and desperation from before morphing into a possessive dominance. The boxers drop to the floor, pooling at his ankles and leaving him completely exposed to your wandering eyes.

His weight is on you again within a mere second, his bare skin pressing against yours, the heat of your bodies mingling as he captures your lips into another kiss. You moan softly, indescribably desperate for him as you wrap your legs around his hips again, tugging him closer against you.

Sounds of pleasure fill the small room as he rubs against you, grinding his hips against yours, a final tease before the main show. Your pleading whimper is followed by a breathless beg, the words swallowed as he continues to kiss you with hunger.

He finally positions himself, his hand moving to your hip as he holds your body in place, lips not breaking apart from yours. Gasping against your mouth, his forehead presses against you as he finally slides into you in a single, fluid motion.

You feel a wave of pleasure wash over you, the sensation growing more intense as he begins to move against you, the weight and motion seemingly pushing you further into the desk. Unable to stifle the string of moans that fall from your lips, your hand finds the back of his head, gripping desperately into his hair as your breath caresses his face.

“F-fuck… fuck you,” he whispers, voice cracking in passion as his fingers tighten around your hip, sinking further into your skin. He continues to thrust into you with the smoldering passion of pent-up frustration, movements desperate and disheveled but leaving you a crumbling mess beneath him. It’s electrifying, the feeling of his skin on yours, the sensations of his hands along your body, desperately grasping at you as if he can’t control himself.

He shifts his hand from your hip, running it down to your thigh before hoisting your leg up, hooking your knee around his shoulder. Without giving you a second to adjust, he thrusts harder into you, the new angle sending your head lulling back into the wood, your hair tangling as you squirm and gasp.

Your hands grip desperately at the desk, fingers finding a series of files and feeling them crumple under your forceful touch.

As one of his hands rests on your thigh, keeping your leg held over him, the other wanders across your stomach and up to your chest, giving your breast a squeeze without disrupting the erratic motion of his hips. He groans your name softly, over and over, the words spilling out like a familiar stream, as if second nature.

You feel the pleasure beginning to culminate, the heat building as his hips continue to snap rhythmically forward.

“Don’t… don’t you dare… not yet,” Abbacchio commands through shallow breaths, his pace never faltering.

“I’m- I can’t… I can’t,” you gasp softly, body taught with tension already as you balance on the edge of release, trying desperately to hold on.

He pulls out of you, not even giving you enough time to gasp as he grabs you by the waist, flipping you over on the desk. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your chest hit the wood and your feet hit the floor, your hands instinctively reaching out again, desperate to hold onto something.

A quiet grumble of need fills your ears, paired with the sensation of fingers tracing along your spine, traveling down before gripping your hips.

You hear a deep sigh before feeling the sensation of him slipping inside you again, your trembled moan filling the silence of the room. He wastes no time, already beginning to move again, arguably with more force than before.  

He presses his palm down into your back arching your back further and causing a string of curses to leave his lips. Your eyes screw shut and your fingers grip the edge of the desk, unable to focus on anything other than the heat continuing to build in your body, seemingly freezing your other senses.

You can’t take it anymore; the sounds of his groans, only growing louder, in combination with the sensation of his hand now grazing across your body, nearly sends you over the edge.

Another gasp catches in your throat as his hand slips under your body again, his finger slipping between your folds as his hips continue to snap against you. His touch is firm and slightly careless, clearly inebriated by pleasure.

“You… you’d better…” Abbacchio’s mumbling grows more desperate and incoherent with every passing second, his pace speeding up as his finger continues to move against you.

His name rolls of your tongue, becoming louder and more husky as you reach your climax, your body shuttering softly against the desk and seemingly directing him through his release as well. His hips slow, body almost collapsing on top of yours, his chest now pressed against your back and leaving you pinned against the desk.

He sighs softly, head almost nuzzling into your hair as his hand finds the side of your waist, caressing it gently as he continues to lie on top of you. You hear his breaths subsiding, the rising and falling of his chest against you growing less erratic and more peaceful.

You swallow, blinking as you catch your breath and begin to relax against the wood, the weight of his body on yours offering a strange sense of contentment. His free hand glides up your arm, fingers tracing along your skin before reaching your hand. He slides his palm up your wrist, eventually intertwining his fingers with your own before rubbing tender circles along your skin with his thumb.

You’d hate to break the silence. And what could you even say?

Perhaps it is better to appreciate the moment for what it is, with the cold moonlight now a dim flickering through the shutters, his warm breath against your neck, a feeling of drowsiness tugging at your serene consciousness. Whatever feeling of frustration, pent up feelings of lust and passion that were feeling before, seemed to melt away with the night. This current feeling, the lingering intensity of emotion and sensation, alongside the tranquility and silence of your surroundings, could only be described by one whispered, frustrating, and even desperate word.

Perfect.

screaming crying rn!!!!

Anyways I feel like not enough people talk about Abbacchio and Narancia's relationship. Of course I think that Narancia would have reacted the same way if someone else from the group had died instead of Abba, but when he goes "we can't just leave him here" I just SOB EVERYTIME

And I like to imagine that their bond must've been much deeper than it's shown. Not necessarily with Abbacchio as a father figure, more like an older brother. I think that in general Abbacchio was much more loved than he thought by everyone

HAGAHSHW HELP ME I LOVE THIS

If I'm allowed to request a scenario where the bucci gang meet a new recruit who literally looks sweet/innocent but is chaotic beyond belief. I just re-watched asobi asobase and in one of the episodes where hanako sets fire to the restaurant by accident. But in this case the new recruit, whose stand is similar to avdol(but with blue flames, cuz blue=hotter more dangerous fire) does it on purpose while looking the boys dead in the eyes with a 'innocent' smile on her face. It'd be even more crazy if by the time police, firefighters, ambulances arrive she just cancels out the flames entirely and the only thing burned in the restaurant are the curtains she set fire. And all this cuz abbacchio decided to be an asshole and tried to do her dirty like giorno. Lesson learned, latom😔😔🙏🏿🙏🏿.

Sorry I just thought this would be funny. Bye

Masterlist here <3

Hello! Sorry for the extremely late reply, I hope you enjoy this <3

Lesson learned, latom

The restaurant was lively, filled with the clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation. Bucciarati’s team occupied a corner booth, their usual energy simmering beneath the surface.

And at the center of it all sat their newest recruit—sweet, polite, and seemingly harmless.

She smiled as she stirred her drink, the very picture of innocence. But underneath that facade lurked something far more dangerous.

And Abbacchio? He had no idea what was coming.

He had made his distaste for her obvious from the start, treating her with the same level of hostility he once reserved for Giorno. Every snide remark, every passive aggressive comment, every pointed glare.. it all led to this moment.

The moment she tilted her head, smiled sweetly, and set fire to the restaurant.

The flames roared to life, an unnatural blue that burned hotter than anything natural. It licked at the walls, raced up the ceiling, and bathed the entire restaurant in a deadly glow. The air shimmered with heat, screams erupted around them, and chaos exploded as civilians scrambled to escape.

And there she stood. Completely still. Watching Abbacchio.

Smiling.

Her expression never wavered, not even as the fire raged around them. She leaned slightly forward, resting her chin on her hands.

“Oops,” she said, voice light, playful. “My bad.”

Abbacchio’s breath caught in his throat.

The others?

Mista pushed back from the table so fast his chair nearly toppled over.

Narancia’s jaw had practically hit the floor.

Fugo looked seconds away from having a nervous breakdown.

Giorno, on the other hand, was unfazed. He merely sipped his tea, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment.

Bucciarati pinched the bridge of his nose, already exhausted.

And Abbacchio?

His soul was ascending.

“What. The. Fuck” he rasped.

Outside, the sirens blared. The sound of approaching fire trucks and police cars filled the air. The restaurant doors burst open, and emergency responders stormed in—only to find the blue flames vanishing in an instant.

One second, the fire raged. The next, it was gone.

The restaurant stood untouched, completely unharmed.

Except for the curtains. They were still burning.

The firefighters stood frozen in place confused as hekl.

The officers exchanged glances, unsure of what to even report.

And Abbacchio? He turned his wide, haunted eyes back to the new recruit, who was now happily sipping her drink. As if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t just committed arson with intent and gotten away with it like it was a casual tuesday.

Let me know if you’d like anything tweaked <3

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

ABBACCHIO MY SWEETHEART UFH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH☹️☹️☹️☹️

I see requests are open 🙏 and first of all, omfg I absolutely loved your response to my nonchalant reader confessing to Bucci gang+Trish 😭❤️ tho it left me wondering what if 👀👀 nonchalant reader is not taken seriously, so they double down with their confession by doing the exact opposite of sth casual because now they do something more elaborated, extravagant or/and even obnoxious (like fancy dinner, a big boquet of flowers, heartshaped chocolates or maybe even balloons) to make their point clear and sure to get across this time. Like !!! I meant it, I am in love with you!! but this time doing the grand gestures gets Nonchalant Reader flustered when repeating outloud that they love them

Masterlist here <3

I love this so much!!! I seriously had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy <3

Og post of the confession here <3

Bruno Bucciarati

The first confession over breakfast had left Bruno intrigued, but you could tell he thought you were joking. So now, you’re sitting across from him at a ridiculously fancy restaurant with chandeliers, classical music, and a waiter in a tux pouring sparkling water into crystal glasses

Bruno, ever composed, places his napkin neatly in his lap, a polite smile on his lips. “This is… unexpected,” he says smoothly. “Special occasion?”

You fidget with the edge of your menu, trying to maintain your nonchalant facade despite your flushed cheeks. “Yeah. I, uh… wanted to clarify something.”

He tilts his head, curious. “Oh?”

The words catch in your throat, but you force them out anyway. “I meant what I said. I’m… I’m in love with you.”

Bruno leans forward slightly, eyes softening, but your nerves hit like a freight train. “Like, actually,” you blurt, voice a bit too loud. “Not some breakfast joke. I got a whole table reservation and—”

The waiter appears, placing an elaborate bouquet of roses between you. You stare at it in mortification

Bruno hides a smile behind his hand. “I’m beginning to see that.”

“I panicked!” you hiss

Bruno’s laugh is warm, genuine. “You’re charming when you panic, did you know that?”

Narancia Ghirga

The first confession during video games had left Narancia completely flustered, but clearly, he thought you were messing with him. Time to up the ante

So now, you’re standing outside his window with a boombox blaring cheesy love songs, dressed way too nicely for no reason

Narancia sticks his head out the window, eyes wide. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”

“I LOVE YOU!” you yell over the music, face burning but fully committed. “LIKE, FOR REAL!”

The neighbors are already peeking through their windows, and you’re regretting every second of this decision

Narancia bursts out laughing, leaning on the windowsill. “Wait, you’re serious?! Oh my god, you’re insane!”

“I KNOW!” you yell back, hands shaking as you fumble with the boombox to turn it off. “But I meant it!”

He grins so wide it makes your embarrassment almost worth it. “You didn’t have to do all this, dummy. I already like you too.”

You freeze. “…Oh?”

“Yeah! But this was awesome.”

Guido Mista

The kitchen confession had gone over way too casually. So now, you’ve decided to go full drama mode—heart-shaped chocolates, flowers, and a cheesy handwritten card are all set on the table

Mista walks in, blinks at the sight, then bursts out laughing. “What’s all this? Valentine’s Day come early?”

You groan, already regretting this. “I’m trying to be serious here, Mista.”

He grins, picking up the card. “Aw, you even wrote me a love letter?” He reads it aloud with way too much enthusiasm

You slap a hand over your face, cheeks burning. “Okay, okay, stop.”

Mista cackles, setting the card down. “You’re so flustered, it’s kinda cute.”

You glare at him. “I’m in love with you, idiot.”

His teasing expression falters for just a second before softening. “Yeah, I know,” he says, smiling warmly now. “I just wanted to see you get all worked up first.”

Fugo Pannacotta

Fugo’s intense logical nature means your first confession barely registered. So now, you’re standing in front of him holding a massive bouquet of flowers, wearing an outfit that makes you feel like an awkward rom-com protagonist

He blinks at you, visibly confused. “What is this?”

“I’m clarifying my previous statement,” you say stiffly, shoving the bouquet toward him

He cautiously takes it, looking between you and the flowers like you’ve just handed him a bomb. “Why?”

“Because,” you mutter, shifting on your feet, “you didn’t believe me. I meant it, Fugo. I’m in love with you.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you force the words out. Fugo’s expression shifts from confusion to realization, and his ears turn bright red

“You didn’t need to do all this,” he mutters, looking away

“Well, you weren’t getting it,” you snap, embarrassed

He glances back at you, a rare, shy smile tugging at his lips. “I get it now.”

Giorno Giovanna

The garden confession had been brushed off too smoothly, so now you’ve set up a full candlelit dinner. Roses, soft music, and a carefully plated meal—the works

Giorno enters, visibly surprised but composed as ever. “This is… elaborate.”

“Yeah, well,” you mumble, pulling out a chair for him. “Needed to make a point.”

He sits gracefully, watching you with amusement. “And that point is?”

You sit across from him, heart racing. “I love you,” you say, voice cracking slightly. “Like, really love you. Not just some random garden comment.”

His eyes soften, and a small smile graces his lips. “You’ve certainly made your feelings clear.”

“Good,” you mutter, poking at your food

He reaches across the table, taking your hand gently. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I was never confused—just waiting for you to realize how much this means to you.”

Leone Abbacchio

After your nonchalant confession was brushed off, you decided to go all out. Now, you’re standing awkwardly in front of Abbacchio with a gift bag and a bottle of expensive wine

He raises an eyebrow. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“A… grand gesture,” you say, voice cracking slightly

He crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You feeling okay?”

“No,” you grumble. “This is stupid. I don’t know why I—whatever, here.” You shove the gift bag toward him

He takes it reluctantly, pulling out a small, heart-shaped card. The corner of his mouth twitches. “Seriously?”

“I love you,” you blurt out, feeling like you might actually combust. “Happy now?”

He stares at you for a long moment before letting out a low chuckle. “You really went all out, huh?”

“I panicked,” you admit miserably

“Well,” he says, smirking, “I guess I’m flattered.”

Trish Una

After your casual confession, Trish had brushed it off with disbelief. So now, you’re standing outside her dressing room with balloons, chocolates, and a handwritten love letter

She opens the door, takes one look at you, and blinks. “What is this?”

“I’m making a point,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “I meant it. I’m in love with you.”

Trish raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re blushing.”

“I know,” you groan. “This is embarrassing, okay?”

She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So you really love me, huh?”

“Yes!” you snap. “God, don’t make me say it again.”

Trish laughs, stepping closer. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect this. But I guess it’s kind of cute.”

“Great. Glad you’re entertained.”

She grins. “I’ll take the chocolates, though. And maybe we can talk about this over dinner—my treat.”

If you’d like any tweaks let me know! I hope you enjoyed this cz I found it so cute <3

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

i fear i have consumed all of the Abbacchio x fem reader content that exists. I cannot find anything else. I’m going insane i need more content of that fine ass man idec anymore he’s so 🤤🤤 and i can’t even watch edits of him cuz tiktok is GONE. HELP ME AUGHHH

I LOVE ABBACCHIO SO MUCH AAGAGAG

hiii!!! could i perchance ask for Bucci gang hcs of them finding reader in the bathroom at like 2am with a full face of vkei makeup ^^ if it’s not too much to ask !!!

p.s. i srs love your work so much <33

Masterlist here <3

I am soso glad you enjoy my work!🥹 I hope you enjoy this as well ❤️

Bucci gang react to walking in on you in full vkei makeup

Bruno Bucciarati

- He doesn’t even question it at first. Bruno is half-asleep, and his only concern is whether or not you’re okay

- “Do you feel sick? Wait… why are you so sparkly?” He rubs his eyes, takes a closer look, and just blinks at you in confusion

- He thinks you look stunning, but he has no idea why you decided to do this at such an ungodly hour. He calmly asks, “Would you like some tea?” as if tea is the solution to everything

- Ends up complimenting your eyeliner technique before reminding you to get some rest. “You’re talented, but don’t overwork yourself, okay? Good night, cara.”

Narancia Ghirga

- Narancia screams. Loudly. Like, actually screams

- He thought you were some kind of ghost or demon haunting the bathroom and nearly threw his shoe at you

- Once he realizes it’s just you, he bursts into laughter. “Why do you look like a rock star? Are you in a band now?”

- He insists you let him try the makeup, too. “C’mon, do mine! I’d look cool, right? Like, super edgy!”

- You two spend the next hour giving him a matching visual kei look. By the time you’re both done, it’s almost sunrise, and he’s taking blurry selfies in the mirror

Guido Mista

- Mista sleepily waddles into the bathroom, sees you, and freezes mid-step

- “…Is this a dream, or are you auditioning for some gothic opera?” He’s genuinely torn between being impressed and confused

- Immediately whips out his phone to snap a picture. “The guys are never gonna believe this. You look like you belong in a magazine!”

- Tries to convince you to let him borrow your eyeliner. “C’mon, lemme try it. If I look half as good as you, everyone will think I’m cool!” Spoiler: he smudges it everywhere

Giorno Giovanna

- Giorno walks in completely unfazed. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it

- “ You look… unique,” he says, in his usual calm tone. But then he tilts his head and adds, “Is this part of a new artistic project?”

- Genuinely admires your skills and asks thoughtful questions about your inspiration. “How did you get the eyeshadow to blend so perfectly? It’s quite impressive.”

- Somehow convinces you to explain the concept of visual kei in-depth at 2 a.m., and by the end of it, he’s recommending color palettes and outfits for your next look

Leone Abbacchio

- Abbacchio stumbles into the bathroom half-asleep, muttering about how you’re being too loud

- When he sees your face, he just stares for a solid ten seconds. Then, with the straightest face imaginable, he says, “What the hell are you doing?”

- He’s absolutely not letting this go. “It’s two in the morning. Do you even know what time it is? What possessed you to turn yourself into a glam rock zombie right now?”

- Despite his grumpiness, he thinks you look kind of cool but will never admit it. If you tease him, he’ll roll his eyes and walk off while muttering, “Kids these days…”

Pannacotta Fugo

- Fugo is baffled. He stares at you with the most exasperated look imaginable

- “Why? Just… why?” He’s trying to process why you’re awake, why you’re in the bathroom, and why you look like you’re about to join a gothic rock band

- He starts lecturing you. “It’s two in the morning. You need to sleep. This can wait until daylight, don’t you think?”

- Secretly, he’s impressed by your creativity but won’t admit it because he’s too busy being the responsible one. “At least wash your face before bed. Makeup isn’t good for your skin overnight.”

Trish Una

- Trish is instantly wide awake when she sees you. She gasps, “Oh my god, you look incredible!”

- She’s fully supportive of your midnight makeup escapades and starts gushing about your blending skills and color choices.

- “You have to let me try this! I want to match with you!” She insists on doing her own visual kei look right then and there

- By 3 a.m., the two of you are in full glam, taking dramatic pictures with moody lighting in the bathroom

If you’d like anything tweaked just let me know! Also I want to let you all know that whenever I write these silly scenarios with the “reckless teenagers late nights” vibe I enjoy writing Abbacchios’ reactions the most lol! So I might rewrite this as a full scenario for Abbacchio!👀

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!