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A Bad Day
Title: A Bad Day
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo
Character(s): Melone, Mista, Buccellati, Illuso, Pesci, Ghiaccio, Prosciutto, Risotto
Pairing(s): Buccellati/Pesci, onesided Melone/Mista
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Castration mention
Summary: Buccellati finds creative uses for Sticky Fingers in punishments. Melone probably should have expected this.
Notes: S-see warnings.
“Really, Mista- or may I call you by your first name? Last names are so impersonal and I would like to think we’re more friendly than that by now-”
Though Melone is blocking most of his view with his body, Mista catches sight of Buccellati coming down the hallway. “Buccellati!”
Melone backs off to give Mista some much-needed space, as Buccellati approaches them with a frown. “What a pleasure it is to see you, Buccellati.”
Buccellati ignores his greeting, turning to Mista. “Is he bothering you?”
“He’s been hitting on me since I ran into him ten minutes ago, and it’s getting creepy. I was gonna pistol-whip him in a second if you hadn’t shown up,” says Mista.
“I’m not creepy...” Melone frowns for only a moment, before returning to his usual pleased expression. “And it isn’t as if being hit in the face would deter me for more than a minute, so you might as well not bother.”
Mista scowls at him. “See, that’s creepy. Will you just-”
“I’ll take care of it,” says Buccellati. “Don’t worry. Giorno needs to see you in his office.”
Mista nods and, with a last narrow look at Melone, heads down the hallway.
“Now, Melone. What am I going to do with you?” Without letting him reply or prepare himself, Buccellati pulls him into the nearest room, and locks the door behind them.
Melone returns to the assassins’ base of operations on the verge of tears.
“What’s wrong?” asks Illuso, letting him inside. The other assassins look up from what they’re doing with some concern as Melone marches over to Pesci.
“Your boyfriend,” he says, sniffling, “zipped off my manhood.”
Pesci blinks at him. “He did what?” he asks, not processing.
“He took my penis and removed it from my body. I have never, never once in my life been so humiliated-” Melone glares at Ghiaccio, who immediately stops snickering in the corner.
“...What were you doing before this happened?” Pesci asks, slowly and carefully.
“Does it matter? Are you siding with him over me, your friend and teammate?” When Pesci doesn’t answer, Melone groans. “I was flirting with Mista. Maybe I was coming on a bit too strongly. But that doesn’t deserve castration.”
“He’ll give it back as soon as you apologize. It’s not that bad.” Pesci fidgets, not looking directly at him. “It’s not like he’d do something permanent… and you kind of did deserve a punishment, this is the fourth time with Mista alone…”
Melone looks to the person most likely to side against Buccellati. “Prosciutto?”
“If I could take off your other brain at will and have you start thinking with your head,” says Prosciutto, crossing his arms, “I’d have done it myself ages ago.”
“...Risotto?” Melone asks desperately.
Risotto doesn’t even glance away from his book. “You might want to have that apology in writing, just to be safe.”
Dejected, Melone slinks off to his room, leaving the others to return to what they’d been doing as if nothing had happened.
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo
Character(s): Melone, Mista, Buccellati, Illuso, Pesci, Ghiaccio, Prosciutto, Risotto
Pairing(s): Buccellati/Pesci, onesided Melone/Mista
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Castration mention
Summary: Buccellati finds creative uses for Sticky Fingers in punishments. Melone probably should have expected this.
Notes: S-see warnings.
“Really, Mista- or may I call you by your first name? Last names are so impersonal and I would like to think we’re more friendly than that by now-”
Though Melone is blocking most of his view with his body, Mista catches sight of Buccellati coming down the hallway. “Buccellati!”
Melone backs off to give Mista some much-needed space, as Buccellati approaches them with a frown. “What a pleasure it is to see you, Buccellati.”
Buccellati ignores his greeting, turning to Mista. “Is he bothering you?”
“He’s been hitting on me since I ran into him ten minutes ago, and it’s getting creepy. I was gonna pistol-whip him in a second if you hadn’t shown up,” says Mista.
“I’m not creepy...” Melone frowns for only a moment, before returning to his usual pleased expression. “And it isn’t as if being hit in the face would deter me for more than a minute, so you might as well not bother.”
Mista scowls at him. “See, that’s creepy. Will you just-”
“I’ll take care of it,” says Buccellati. “Don’t worry. Giorno needs to see you in his office.”
Mista nods and, with a last narrow look at Melone, heads down the hallway.
“Now, Melone. What am I going to do with you?” Without letting him reply or prepare himself, Buccellati pulls him into the nearest room, and locks the door behind them.
Melone returns to the assassins’ base of operations on the verge of tears.
“What’s wrong?” asks Illuso, letting him inside. The other assassins look up from what they’re doing with some concern as Melone marches over to Pesci.
“Your boyfriend,” he says, sniffling, “zipped off my manhood.”
Pesci blinks at him. “He did what?” he asks, not processing.
“He took my penis and removed it from my body. I have never, never once in my life been so humiliated-” Melone glares at Ghiaccio, who immediately stops snickering in the corner.
“...What were you doing before this happened?” Pesci asks, slowly and carefully.
“Does it matter? Are you siding with him over me, your friend and teammate?” When Pesci doesn’t answer, Melone groans. “I was flirting with Mista. Maybe I was coming on a bit too strongly. But that doesn’t deserve castration.”
“He’ll give it back as soon as you apologize. It’s not that bad.” Pesci fidgets, not looking directly at him. “It’s not like he’d do something permanent… and you kind of did deserve a punishment, this is the fourth time with Mista alone…”
Melone looks to the person most likely to side against Buccellati. “Prosciutto?”
“If I could take off your other brain at will and have you start thinking with your head,” says Prosciutto, crossing his arms, “I’d have done it myself ages ago.”
“...Risotto?” Melone asks desperately.
Risotto doesn’t even glance away from his book. “You might want to have that apology in writing, just to be safe.”
Dejected, Melone slinks off to his room, leaving the others to return to what they’d been doing as if nothing had happened.