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naomijoestar · 1 month ago

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⋆.ೃ JJBA SCENARIOS ࿔*:･

Masterlist here <3

genre: erotic fiction

warnings: boners; doesn’t lead to anything tho, slight NSFW

characters: bucci gang

notes: F!reader, also i wasn’t going to include the 18- characters (giorno, narancia, fugo) but i set up a poll yesterday on whether I should include or exclude them and the majority of the votes told me to include so here you guys go!

Bucci gang members getting a hard-on from their crush

Giorno Giovanna

You and Giorno are sitting on an ornate balcony overlooking Naples, enjoying the sunset. The atmosphere is warm, the golden glow of the setting sun enhancing the intimacy.

Giorno listens carefully as you speak, but he's acutely aware of the way your body shifts closer, your fingers lightly brushing his thigh as you adjust yourself on the seat. The touch is innocent, but it sends a ripple of heat through him. He prides himself on his control, but he feels his breath hitch when you lean in even closer, your lips just inches from his ear, as you softly ask him a question.

His pulse quickens. His hand rests on his knee, and he clenches his fist discreetly, trying to maintain his calm façade. But beneath the table, he subtly shifts, trying to hide the involuntary reaction your proximity is causing.

You tilt your head curiously when he doesn't immediately answer, your eyes meeting his. "Giorno, are you okay? You seem a little... distant."

Giorno's face remains calm, though his voice is deeper than usual. "I'm fine," he replies, his words a touch slower, as if carefully measured. But the heat creeping up his neck and the tightness he feels under the table say otherwise.

His composure slips for just a moment as he brushes a strand of your hair away from your face, his fingers grazing your cheek.

Your soft smile doesn't help. It only fuels the heat in his chest, making him long for more, but Giorno, always the gentleman, leans back slightly to catch his breath, hoping you don’t notice the subtle tension building between you two

Bruno Bucciarati

You and Bruno are working on a mission late into the night. The small room is dimly lit, and you're seated next to each other, sharing the same space.

Bruno's focused, but as you lean over to point something out on the map, your chest lightly presses against his arm. He freezes for a split second, the warmth of your body suddenly igniting something in him. He keeps his eyes fixed on the map, trying to maintain his usual collected demeanor, but inside, his thoughts are racing.

Your breath tickles his ear as you speak softly, oblivious to the effect you’re having on him. The sensation of your body so close, combined with the scent of your perfume, stirs a primal response that even Bruno struggles to suppress.

His jaw clenches slightly, and he subtly shifts in his seat, his hand pressing against his thigh to calm himself. But when you laugh softly, your lips so close to his neck, he feels a surge of warmth, and he has to cross his legs beneath the table to hide the growing tension in his body.

You turn to him, your lips still curved in a smile. "Bruno? You're awfully quiet." There's a playful teasing in your tone, but Bruno only offers a tight smile, his usual confidence faltering.

"I'm just... concentrating," he says, though the slight huskiness in his voice betrays him. He swallows hard, his hands resting in his lap, hoping you don’t notice how affected he is by your presence.

Leone Abbacchio

You and Abbacchio are seated at a secluded corner of a bar, the dim lighting creating a sultry atmosphere. You have been teasing him all night, your laughter cutting through the low hum of the room.

Abbacchio's used to keeping his emotions in check, but you know just how to push his buttons. You lean in closer, your leg brushing against his under the table as you smirk at him.

"You're really fun to mess with, you know that?" you tease, your voice a little lower than before.

Your lips are dangerously close to his ear now, and Abbacchio tenses, feeling a surge of heat course through him. His body reacts instinctively to the closeness, and he grits his teeth, shifting slightly in his seat to try and adjust himself without making it obvious. The tightness in his pants is becoming more noticeable, and he silently curses his body's reaction.

He turns his head to glare at you, his usual scowl in place, but his eyes betray him-they're darker now, filled with something he's trying to keep under control. "You're playing with fire," he mutters, his voice low and gruff.

You lean back slightly, still smiling, but your eyes linger on him, noticing the tension in his body. Abbacchio crosses his arms, but it doesn't help; he's still keenly aware of the way his body is reacting to your proximity, and it frustrates him that he can't maintain his usual composure.

He quickly finishes his drink, hoping to distract himself, but the heat between you lingers, and Abbacchio is left sitting in silence, pretending he's unaffected, though you both know better

Guido Mista

You two are walking down a quiet street after a late-night hangout. The moonlight making everything feel more intimate.

You're laughing, the mood light, until you playfully nudge him, your hand resting on his chest for a moment longer than expected. Mista stops mid-sentence, the playful vibe suddenly shifting. Your touch sends a jolt through him, and he feels a wave of heat spreading downwards.

"Uh, wow," he says, his voice cracking slightly as he laughs awkwardly, trying to shake off the feeling. But his body's already reacting, and he glances down quickly, panicking as he realizes the situation unfolding in his pants.

Mista's always been confident, but right now, he feels the need to hide his growing arousal, pulling his jacket down to cover himself. "Hey, you wanna grab some gelato or something?" he blurts out, his voice a bit higher-pitched than usual as he tries to change the subject.

You look at him, amused by his sudden shift in energy, and arche a brow. "Mista, are you okay? You seem... flustered." Your tone is teasing, and Mista feels his face flush as he desperately tries to keep his cool.

"I'm not flustered! I just-uh, I really want ice cream, that's all," he says, laughing too loudly. But as you walk, his steps are a little stiffer, and he keeps his hands awkwardly in his pockets, trying to play it off. Inside, though, he's mentally cursing his body for betraying him so easily

Narancia Ghirga

You are hanging out on a rooftop, watching the city lights flicker below. The cool night air contrasts with the growing warmth between you as you sit close together.

Narancia's usually full of energy, but tonight, he's more subdued, his attention drawn to the way your leg brushes against his. You shift closer to him, your body pressing lightly against his, and Narancia feels his throat go dry. He's not used to feeling this kind of tension-it's different from anything he's experienced before.

Your hand grazes his knee, and suddenly, his body reacts with a jolt of heat. His breath hitches, and he shifts uncomfortably, feeling the tightness in his pants as his arousal becomes undeniable. He glances at you, panic flickering in his eyes as he tries to play it off.

“S-sorry, it's just a little cold up here," he stammers, though his voice betrays him. It's not cold at all, and the heat radiating from his body is unmistakable.

You look at him, your expression soft, but there's a hint of something more in your gaze. "Narancia, you okay?" you ask, your voice gentle, but your touch lingers on his leg, making his pulse race even faster.

He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Y-yeah, I'm fine! Just.. you know, uh... the city's really pretty tonight, huh?" He's babbling, trying to distract himself, but the tension between you is growing, and his body isn't giving him any breaks.

Narancia shifts again, pulling his shirt down as subtly as possible, hoping you don’t notice his very obvious reaction. But the way you’re looking at him with that knowing smile, makes him realize you probably already have

Pannacotta Fugo

The both of you are in the library, studying together late into the evening. The quiet atmosphere is heavy with tension, and the dim lighting makes everything feel more intimate.

Fugo’s eyes are glued to his book, but his thoughts are elsewhere. You are sitting right next to him, leaning over to look at the same text, and the scent of your perfume is clouding his usually sharp mind. Every now and then, your arm brushes against his, and with every accidental touch, Fugo feels his composure slipping.

He adjusts his collar, suddenly too aware of the warmth building in his chest—and lower. His mind races, scolding himself for letting his thoughts wander like this, but the tension between you is growing, and he can’t ignore it any longer. Your hand grazes his knee lightly, and the contact sends a shockwave through his body, stirring something deep inside him.

Fugo’s body reacts before his mind can catch up. He shifts awkwardly in his seat, crossing his legs beneath the table, but the pressure in his pants is undeniable. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, hoping you don’t notice the slight tremble in his hands as he grips the edge of the table, trying to stay focused on the book in front of him.

You lean in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you ask him something, your voice soft and teasing. “Fugo, you seem distracted… everything okay?”

He swallows hard, feeling a rush of heat up his neck. His voice is lower than usual as he replies, “I’m fine. Just… trying to concentrate.” But his body betrays him; his heart is racing, and the tension in his pants grows harder to hide.

You smile knowingly, your eyes lingering on his face for a moment longer than necessary. Fugo clenches his fist, fighting the urge to lose control. He’s always been careful, disciplined—but right now, with you so close, he feels himself dangerously close to crossing a line he’s never dared before.

In a sudden move, he pushes his chair back slightly, creating more space between you. “I need some air,” he mutters, his voice strained as he stands up quickly, hoping you don’t see the flush creeping across his face, or the other, much more obvious reaction he’s trying to hide

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