Panic Room

ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ SFW:

˚. ᵎᵎ Always walks with him towards the outside of the street, holding you super close to him.

˚. ᵎᵎ You wear a dress or a skirt, and when there’s no one else around, Mista absolutely fakes out flipping it up.

˚. ᵎᵎ One time he accidentally did it for real. You wish you were recording his apology, blubbering on his knees.

˚. ᵎᵎ Mista both can’t help himself showing you off, and feels horribly guilty about how his being near you could put you in harm’s way. When he thinks about it, he really shouldn’t be so public with you.

˚. ᵎᵎ Then you run up to him, latching onto his arm like a leech, and it’s hard to feel guilty.

˚. ᵎᵎ Secretly loves being little spoon, occasionally— but ultimately prefers to hold you in his arms protectively.

˚. ᵎᵎ Cute pet names, always. “Baby”, “bella” (I’m not immune), “mi amore”.

˚. ᵎᵎ Is the type to worry he’s in trouble if you say his name, not a pet name.

˚. ᵎᵎ Sleeps with himself facing the door and open windows— he would get hit first. I think this is common for most Passione members I write.

˚. ᵎᵎ The Pistols like to hug your fingertips while you nuzzle their little heads. Mista protests, all the while getting more and more flustered as his Stand’s happiness floods back into him.

˚. ᵎᵎ Definitely the type to nearly go bankrupt for you. Bruno has lectured him about using gang funds for dates.

˚. ᵎᵎ Never schedules dates on the fourth, or at 4 p.m. If it were up to him he wouldn’t be around you that day, in case bad luck strikes you both. You’ll have to drag him.

˚. ᵎᵎ Leave lipstick kiss marks to tease him in front of his partners in crime. The moment Mista sees a mirror, he starts telling them off, saying “At least I have a girlfriend, you assholes!”

˚. ᵎᵎ The worst pick up lines. “Hey, babe—“ “If I hear one more corny line, I’m leaving.” “… but you haven’t heard this one.”

˚. ᵎᵎ Is the type to want to keep a picture in his wallet. He may take it out for dire missions, or in spots where being tied to him could be a risk. But please let him have it. If not, a card with your perfume and a lipstick print would suffice.

˚. ᵎᵎ He wants a lot of photos in general: your shared space is plastered with em. Also saves menus, movie or arcade tickets. If you collaged them, he’d show it off to/annoy Fugo with it.

ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ NSFW:

˚. ᵎᵎ Reaaaaally loves risque photos of you. With or without your face: arms pushing your chest together, the curve of your cleavage and the bottom of your lip just visible; fluffy cuffs around your wrists, a cute, helpless look on your face; arching your back like a cat, a sheer babydoll flowing from your body like a waterfall. If you did a boudoir shoot for him, he’d pay for however many you wanted.

˚. ᵎᵎ Make out sessions almost always lead to something else. Mista is addicted to kissing you, if you could be addicted to it, your swollen lips, the heat when he nipped them, the taste of your soft tongue tangling with his.

˚. ᵎᵎ Prefers to get both of your shirts off, to feel your bare chests against each other.

˚. ᵎᵎ It is canon he likes a nice pair of tits. But I think he would love them no matter what, the feeling of the soft flesh in his hands, the way you shiver when he takes one nipple into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue and kissing up your chest.

˚. ᵎᵎ So. Many. Hickeys. In areas that only he can see (usually). Lays off a little in the summer.

˚. ᵎᵎ He’s like Kars in that he likes any part of you he can grab— in any position. Your calf, pointed over his shoulder. Your stomach, pounding into you from behind. Your hips, love handles when you ride him drive him insane.

˚. ᵎᵎ Definitely gifts you lingerie. He loves seeing you in lace and frilly things especially.

˚. ᵎᵎ Higher libido. Could probably jack off every day, but will instead try to rile you up a respectful amount of times. (He’d fuck you every day if you asked, though.)

˚. ᵎᵎ Biiiiig fan of you going down on him, but would only tease the suggestion. Mista wouldn’t outright ask, but if you drag your lips down his chest, to the hair curling around his belly button, he shivers and fights the urge to shove your head further down.

˚. ᵎᵎ I’m not the first to say he’s a munch, and I won’t be the last. He loooooooves seeing you feel good because of him, and would happily eat you out for all three meals if he could.

˚. ᵎᵎ There’s something about your wet thighs, your sweaty skin under his hands, the sounds you make when he laps at your clit for what feels like your fifth orgasm—

˚. ᵎᵎ Let him put his mouth to use somewhere, instead of yammering.

˚. ᵎᵎ Would come home frustrated after a mission and definitely try not to give into the idea of you giving him some stress relief, but if you offer…

˚. ᵎᵎ Isn’t the type to get really rough. Fluffy cuffs. Likes an occasional spank, giving and receiving.

˚. ᵎᵎ He is pretty suggestible though, and would absolutely try most things.

˚. ᵎᵎ Daddy kink? Sure, he’ll pull it out to see that dazed look on your face. Anal? You do look fucking adorable with the little heart-shaped gem plug. Blindfold? He misses seeing your eyes, but how sensitive you are with the lack of vision almost makes up for it.

˚. ᵎᵎ Solid seven inches, curved, shaves if you ask. But he keeps himself clean, he doesn’t like the ides of making you dirty unless you ask.

˚. ᵎᵎ Praise him, and let him praise you. Fiiiiiiilthy mouth. Rivaled only by Abbachio.

ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

“Oh my god, you feel so, so fucking good, shit…”

“Who’s this pussy belong to, huh? Say it, say my name, bella, fuck—“

“Wanna see you cum again, c’mon.”

ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

˚. ᵎᵎ Favorite position is seated on the edge of your bed with you straddling him, able to aid him as he bounces you on his dick. Your cute, fucked out face makes him harder.

˚. ᵎᵎ Also wears condoms with no complaints. If you were serious though, he would be tempted to ask sometimes if he can creampie you. Huge fantasy of his to see his cum dripping between your legs, knowing he did that to you.

˚. ᵎᵎ Would also be very down for kids, part of the creampie fantasy is a latent breeding kink, lol.

˚. ᵎᵎ No qualms about quickies, and honestly enjoys the thrill a little in public: he can’t let anyone else see you like this, eyes glassy and mouth agape, but god he couldn’t help himself when he saw you in that cute little fit.

˚. ᵎᵎ Aftercare is a mutual, cuddly affair. You have a dedicated towel that gets washed extremely frequently. He’s all questions, making sure you aren’t sore (if you are… not saying he’s proud but he does get that moment of smugness), and helping you over to the bathroom to take a shower where you can cling to him and decompress.

The overhead flash of neon pinks and greens, blues and oranges, throws a horde of people into a frenzy on the dance floor, the already heavy bass of the music amplified by their unified jumping. Strobe lights scan the crowd geometrically in intervals, blinding at times, but somehow only encourages everyone to get a little wilder in their movements. The crowd swarms with an intense energy, arms and necks being tossed every-which-way, distracting them from what was meant to be a discomforting warmth in the air, and the stickiness of sweat across their skin.  

In the center of all this, Mista shouts the lyrics of the chorus with what little breath he has left, his calves aching each time he springs up with the rhythm. He holds onto his hat for dear life and tries his hardest not to elbowanyone in the face, successful only 60% of the time. Not like he could hear their complaints over the music anyways, so technically he couldn’t get in trouble, right?  

Life never felt so easy as it did when Mista was at the club. Of all the simple pleasures he’d come across in his life, this one was undoubtedly his favorite. Absorbing concerning amounts of alcohol, meeting awesome strangers, and being able to move his body in any way his mind desired? It’s an experience that just can’t be replicated. So, he took it upon himself after each boring, under-stimulating work week to hit up the best underground club in Naples: Il Seminterrato.  

He was essentially a regular at this point, considering the DJ, bartenders, and owners knew his name and face. It earned him nothing more than a few drinks on the house every other weekend, and they’ve even stopped asking for his ID at the door, granting him quicker access. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty about it even though he probably should; who wouldn’t want benefits like that? If it meant he could get on the floor faster, then who gives a damn?  

Mista opens his eyes and tilts his head to the ceiling, smiling to himself as the colors swirl and twinkle above him. Tonight felt...particularly exciting. He couldn’t explain why: maybe he’d had a little bit too much to drink already, or perhaps that monthly horoscope he’d read in the papers had been right after all—whatever it was, he knew for sure he wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.  

“Hey, you’re hot! Wanna dance?”  

A voice shouts at him from over his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. He snaps his head around, the stranger respectfully hovering behind him. The guy looked to be a few years older, but the flicks of glow-in-the-dark paint he had splattered on his face made it clear he was still in Mista’s ideal range. Regardless, he was pretty cute, so... 

“Hell yeah!”  

Mista backs up into the man's arms, allowing them to strap around his waist as they both continued to move with the music. Best to take what he could get.

 Recently, it felt like he was getting less and less action, but he couldn’t think of one reason why. He was as handsome as always, hype, friendly, all the things that magnetize people...yet the most he could get out of anyone was a brief kiss. Perhaps it’s because his taxi fare was $14.44 a few weeks ago...yeah, definitely that. Either way, he was sure this would finally be the night that he left the building with something more than a raging headache and sore feet.

With a deep sigh, you take a seat on the first open bar stool you can find, propping your elbows up on the counter and digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. A comforting—though it feels patronizing—hand lightly rubs your back, 

“Come on, you can’t start sulking now that we’ve finally made it here. That would put all my efforts to shame!” Your friend speaks into your ear, sounding a bit disheartened.  

You shake your head and wave him off, “Bruno please, I’m not sulking, I'm just...adjusting.”  

Your lie doesn’t seem to bode well with man, and his gentle rub turns into a ruthless pinch.  

“Ow-what the hell!” You turn around to glare at him, reaching back to soothe the pain.  

Bruno only smiles at you, placing his clutch in the hands of the man behind him before taking the stool beside you. “Don’t even, I can see it all over your damn face." 

“Jesus, Leone, could you please tell this prick to keep his hands to himself?” You complain to the tall man still standing, but the shrug he gives you is telling of who’s side he’s on.  

“Can’t. He’s right, you need to get outta your head.”  

“Sell out..” You say under your breath, placing your hand in your chin.  

“See? We’ve got to get you back to how you were in the cab. And I know just the trick..” Bruno doesn’t wait for your response as he reaches out to flag down the bartender, a young woman, who approaches with a friendly smile.  

“Hey ya’ll, what can I get ya?”  

“A round of tequila shots, please.”  

“You got it, boss.”  

Bruno tries to ignore the look you’re blatantly giving him by pretending to fix his shirt, as if the entire club couldn’t see his tits enough already.  

“Seriously? Are you trying to get me to make a fool of myself?” You tut, nudging him with your elbow. The last time you had too much tequila in your system, things had gotten a little...depraved.  

Bruno laughs, “Kind of, yes. This is the fastest way to get that stick out of your ass.”  

“I don’t have a ‘stick up my ass’, I’m reacting like how anyone else would if they’d just gotten dumped!”  

“You knew the guy was a piece of shit, you should’ve expected it at some point.” Leone chimes in, draping his arms over Bruno’s shoulders and resting his chin on his head.  

You roll your eyes. “He wasn’t that bad. I mean, sure he had a few quirks, but-” 

“Remember that time he ‘borrowed’ your car without asking to meet up with some ‘friends’ downtown?” He interrupts. Your face sours at the memory.  

“Oh right, and it turned out they’d gone to a strip club?” Bruno adds.  

“Not to mention him never paying for dinner and refusing to take photos with you-”  

“Okay, I get it, he was shady!” You groan, putting a fist to your forehead. “..You don’t gotta be so blunt about it.”  

Three short glasses are slid across the bar counter landing in a nice little cluster in front of you, their rims decorated with salt and a slice of lime. You all thank the bartender in unison, each of you grabbing the glass of your choosing.  

Staring down into the clear liquid, you feel your lips pull into a frown. As annoying as they were being about it, your friends are right about your ex. You’d met the man eight months ago by what felt like a miracle, considering your romantic life had been drier than a desert prior to his arrival. It started as a one-night-stand (which should’ve been your first sign), but he insisted on seeing you again multiple times afterwards. A few solid dates later, you’d developed a charming relationship, though it only stayed that way for a month or so. Upon first meeting him, your closest friends Leone and Bruno were skeptical of the guy’s intentions, but you brushed it off as them being overly protective.  

You had so easily gotten caught up in the excitement of having a boyfriend that you neglected all his distasteful tendencies; how he wouldn’t hold your hand or kiss you in public, the way he’d coincidentally run out of cash right after you’d already given him some...But oh, he gave the sweetest compliments, and in the comfort of your home, he treated you with such tenderness.. 

‘That bastard is going to bleed you dry.’ 

Leone had said in his usual aggravation. For whatever reason, you still held on to hope that the man would change, with a little pleading here and there...but it always fell on deaf ears. On Wednesday, it all came crashing down, and it was revealed that he had been seeing other men behind your back, an admission that had apparently only been a surprise to you. But without even getting a chance to discuss the matter, the man broke up with you on the spot, claiming he ‘had other clientele to tend to.’ You’d never felt so dejected in your life. Just like that, more than half a year of your time had gone to waste.  

“Shady doesn’t even cover it. He was a sleaze, and I should’ve decked him when I had the chance.” Leone’s gruff voice brings you back to the present.  

You huff, “Yeah, maybe...”  

With his free hand, Bruno presses his hand to your cheek, your gaze lifting to him. “Enough about that. We’re here to get him off your mind, not for you to ruminate.” The smile he gives is genuine, and it makes the tension in your chest ease up a little. He raises his shot glass between the two of you, “We’ve got more important business right now!”  

You respond with a softer smile, lifting yours as well. “-Okay, okay..cheers.”  

“Bottoms up, bitch.” Leone is the last to slot his glass into the circle, each of you laughing as you clink your shots together, lick the salt from the rim, and toss the liquid back. 

The tequila goes down without a fight, sparking your nerves with a thrill that you know will come to haunt you sooner rather than later. Before you can even set your glass down, Bruno is already ordering another round, nodding his head to the music which seems to grow louder by the second. Within what feel like mere minutes, the three of you are four shots in, and you even take it upon yourself to try one of the special edition cocktails they were selling for this week's event. It’s more fruity syrups than it is alcohol, but the little ball of flashing light at the bottom and the edible glitter inside of it makes up for the taste.  

Bruno gets his fingers around your straw when you glance away for the briefest second, giggling as he keeps the drink just out of your reach so that he can take a few sips of his own.  

“Hmmm...more tart than I expected it to be.” He sighs. “Not half bad though. Maybe I should get one of my own..”  

You smile and shake your head, reclaiming the glass. “I think you should time-out for a bit. The night is young, no need to rush the buzz.”   

“Not to mention you’ve already bitten off more than you can usually chew..” Leone comments with a smirk, leaving a glowing purple stain on the others cheek as he kisses him.  

Bruno folds his arms defensively, but his lips still have a small curve to them as he turns around to face his partner. “You drink like a sailor, and no one bats an eye.”  

“That’s ‘cause I can handle myself afterwards. You on the other hand..”  

“-Lightweight-” You cough into your fist.  

“Oh, whatever! I can ‘handle’ myself perfectly fine...besides, even if I can’t, Leone always knows the perfect way to tame me..”  

Bruno’s words are somewhat proven by the way Leone’s arm remains hooked around his waist, and he complies willingly when Bruno leans his head back for a kiss.  

“Uhmm, gross?” Your face twists in playful disgust at the display.  

“Envy is not a good look on you.” Bruno chuckles, crossing one of his legs over the other. Leone remains close, kissing the man's temple and some parts of his neck, leaving him covered in lipstick.  

“I’m just saying, have some decency. Your lap dog looks just about ready to dive his hands beneath your skirt at a moment's notice.” You grumble, taking another gulp of your drink.  

He shrugs, “Well, no one’s telling you to watch.”  

You furrow your brows, glancing away quickly. “My God, I hate you.”  

Bruno’s hands shoot out to grab your sleeve, tugging as he laughs. His drunken smile is way too cute, impossible to stay mad at. “Hey, hey, I’m kiddingg-! You know I’d never...especially not in a place like this.”  

“Yeah, whatever..”  

He purses his lips, dissatisfied with your conceding response. He ponders for a moment, glancing back at the dance floor before giving your arm another tug. “Look.. how about we do some cruising?”  

Your mouth dives into a frown around your straw at his suggestion. “...you can’t be serious.”  

“Do I look as though I’m joking?”  

...Indeed, Bruno has a rather resolute expression on his face, his brows firmly set, eyes just wide enough to show his conviction.  

“You know the saying; the best way to get over one is to get under another, mm?”  

He had a way of getting what he wanted out of anyone, stranger or not. Fortunately for him, you weren’t in the mood to argue. You draw in a deep breath, wedging your thumb into your forehead before sitting up straight, and turning fully towards him.  

“Okay, fine. But I’m making you two do all the work for me.”  

“Oh, trust me, you’re in great hands.” Bruno winks, shifting on his stool until he’s facing the bustling crowd, prompting you to do the same. He narrows his eyes and taps his chin as he looks over all the potential contenders. Leone follows suit, shielding his eyes from the lights and covering whatever ground Bruno doesn’t.  

At the very least, you were grateful that they were trying their best to keep you in high spirits. It wasn’t their job to do so, and they very well could have let you third wheel for the entire night, but instead they’re doing...this. It feels nice, knowing that you can always rely on them.  

“Ouu...what about him? Hot pink pumps, to your right.” Bruno points, guiding your attention.  

The character in question was almost half-naked, wearing what looked like a bright green bikini set that was definitely too small for him, paired with lacy pink thigh-high tights that matched his shoes. He has light purple hair cut asymmetrically, and some futuristic looking visor over his eyes. You tilt your head, looking him up and down, briefly considering. If nothing else, he sure did have a nice pair of legs.  

“...Cute, but he’s giving me a strange vibe.”  

Bruno rolls his eyes. “How can you catch a ‘vibe’ from all the way over here? Ridiculous.”  

As if overhearing your conversation, the stranger ends up locking eyes with you, a smirk appearing on his face before he licks his lips predatorily.  

You shiver. “Nope, it’s totally there. Next.”  

Bruno sighs, but dutifully returns to his surveying. “Okay, then...how about blondie over there?” 

The next man put under your curious gazes is deliciously tall with pale blonde hair scaling his back that sways as he moves, sporting a tight red jumpsuit and a variety of glowsticks around his wrists. 

“He’s pretty.” Bruno adds, looking for your approval. “You like pretty boys, don't you??”  

You rub your hand against your jaw. There was a slight hitch in this particular selection. “Sure, I do but..I don’t think he’s up for grabs.”  

Turning his head back to the man, Bruno grimaces at the downright murderous glare that another patron is giving the three of you; some red head with a snarl sharp enough to make a baby sob at first sight. The possessive type,you presume.  

“Talk about intense...Guess a threesome’s off the table then?”  

“Jesus, Bruno-”  

Your friend holds his hands up in surrender before folding them in his lap. “Just looking at all sides of the coin here, alright? I’m not letting you leave this place without at least one worthwhile interaction.”  

You massage the bridge of your nose between your fingers, speaking wearily, “Okay sure..but I think we need to step out of the box a little. Trying to shoot for my type is obviously getting us nowhere-”  

“How about him?”  

Leone’s voice breaks through your haphazard strategizing, causing both you and Bruno to look at him in mild shock. For what it was worth, it seemed he’d actually taken his time seeking someone out, but you still brace yourself for another failed suggestion. Once again, your eyes follow the direction of his pointed finger out towards the thrashing bodies, landing on- 

..Huh.  

Well, it certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, but maybe that was a good thing. You lean back against the bar top, brow lifted with intrigue. A wildly energetic man dances at the center of the floor, wearing a purple crop top with indigo trim, cross hatched with white stripes to create wide diamond shapes. The sleeves have been cut off, allowing him to show off his strong arms, and the glow-in-the-dark tiger stripes that he’s painted on them. As for his pants..well, they’re basically nonexistent: the white shorts have that same tiger pattern but in black, cut so high above his thighs that if he jumps too high, his ass cheeks might poke out. Really, it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.  

You’re momentarily confused as to why he’s wearing a hat in the club, especially since he’s practically in the ‘eye of the storm’ so to speak, but at the same time it feels like his outfit wouldn’t be complete without it. You track his face as he twirls around, subconsciously wondering what his eyes might look like beneath those shades he’s wearing.  

“Well? Thoughts?” Leone is already smirking in accomplishment, looping his arm around Bruno’s neck, who speaks up before you can.  

“’Looks a bit rough around the edges. A little trashy, even.” His words sound judgmental, but his expression seems admiring.   

You hold your chin in your hand, lips pulled askew. “Dunno..trashy isn’t always bad. He’s definitely an attention grabber.”  

“That’s true..” Bruno hums in agreement, leaning forward with his elbows on his knee. “If you haven’t got any gripes about him, then you should go for it. Don’t let me stop you.”  

You suck your teeth, fingers clenching into a fist. Suddenly, the prospect of approaching the attractive stranger was making your stomach twist. It’s not like you didn’t know how to put the moves on a guy when you wanted to, but you feel like you don’t have your usual spark. On top of that, you’re not sure if you could handle the possible rejection with the state you’re in now. Leone side-eyes you, noticing the confliction in your frown. He raises his hand from around Bruno to tap your shoulder, speaking clearly,  

“Hey. Think about it; you’ve really got nothing to lose. If he isn’t interested? Fine, we’ll find someone else. Don’t get yourself down in the dumps before you’ve given it a chance.”  

More than hating that he was being entirely reasonable, you hated that the statement was actually giving you courage. Despite this smidge of motivation, you felt glued to your seat, like you couldn’t take the first step of your own volition.  

“..I don’t know..maybe I should just wait and see if he notices me staring first..”  

“What, so then he can pin you as a creep? Besides, he’s too busy dancing to notice anything but his own two feet.” Bruno notes.  

“Okay, fair but-!”  

“Oh my god, get the hell up!” Leone hits your shoulder with more force, causing your body to jerk and scramble away in such a way that gets you right out of your stool. Bruno doesn’t let you sit back down either, pushing you gently towards the crowd.  

“Wait-I’m not ready!”  

“And you never will be. Just be yourself, and all will be fine! We’ll be right here if you need us.” 

With a final shove, you’re separated from your friends, left only to look back at their satisfied smiles as you get sucked into the whirlwind that is the dance floor. You want to shake your fists vigorously at them, give them a piece of your mind, but decide it's better if you don’t embarrass yourself in front of literally everyone. Your best bet is to try blending in; you begin side-stepping and jouncing your shoulders to the music, nervously shiftingyourself in the direction of your ‘target.’ For a moment, you lose sight of him, perks of getting bumped into every few seconds, sending you into just the slightest panic that totally doesn’t have your palms sweating, and the word ‘bail’ echoing in your head..  

But the Universe, of course, wouldn’t let you get away so easily. Your back smacks into that of another dancer, but as you turn to apologize for getting in their way.. 

“Argh- My bad, didn’t see ya’ there!”  

... 

He’s certainly hotter up close.  

Your tongue falls flat, whatever statement you’d been trying to make slipping away in an instant. Upon seeing what must be your dumbfounded expression, the man doesn’t turn away, instead continuing to dance as he looks you up and down. As if to get a better look, he lowers his glowing shutter glasses.  

“..’You good, man?” He asks with a questioning smirk, speaking loudly over the music.  

You try to swallow down all the excuses coming to mind, recounting Leone’s words. “Yeah-yeah I’m fine. Sorry for fucking up your flow.” You laugh, the sound awkwardly quiet and forced.  

“Eh, no sweat. When you’re a professional like me, it’s easy to catch the beat.” He pushes his glasses back up, a wider smile on his face.  

You raise a brow “Professional? For real? Impressive.”  

He chuckles like you’d said something stupid. “Hell, I wish. I do think I’ve got some killer moves though.”  

You feel a little relief. This guy was making things easy for you...he’s talkative, not afraid to brag a little. Good..as long as he isn’t the quiet type, you’ve got a bit of wiggle room.  

Realizing you’ve been standing practically still since he began speaking to you, you start dancing as well. “Yeah, I think so too. Been watching for a minute...honestly I’m surprised your legs are still intact.” 

“Watching you say? Well, then you should know I’ve taken enough shots to keep my system running for the next 48 hours, eh?”  

You smile, knowing you were somewhat in the same boat. “Sounds about right.” An idea comes to you then, the tiniest opening that you’d be damned to not exploit. “..Mind if I join you? I’ve got quite a bit of energy to spare myself.” 

Bruno would be so proud if he could hear you now.  

The stranger smirks, glancing around. “Considering my other partner ditched me...I don’t think I’d mind one bit.”  

You breathe out, anxiety fading away. So long as you don’t make an ass of yourself here, this might actually work. You unbutton the cuffs of your sleeves, rolling them up to your elbows for some better range of motion, trying to really get into the groove. Just as they’re exposed, he takes hold of one of your wrists, strapping one of his neon bracelets around it.  

You raise your brow at him. “-What’s this for?”  

“So I don’t lose sight of you, of course. This place’s like a death trap if you ain’t careful.”  

“Ah..” It felt more like he’d laid claim on you, but you shake that thought from your head quickly, smiling down at the little band. “Thanks..and uh-probably should’ve asked this first but, what’s your name?”  

“It’s Mista!” He replies excitedly, as if you’d been the only one to ask the entire night. “Or Guido, if you wanna get formal. Either’s fine with me!”  

Your smile grows a little. “Nice to meet you, Mista.”  

“Yeah, you too, cutie!”  

Probably too drunk to realize, Mista never reciprocates the question, which should worry you..but hearing him call you cute was enough to satisfy you for the moment.  

You work up a sweat trying to keep up with Mista’s sporadic and carefree movements, all in the hopes of not losing his interest. He’s like an animal, really, moving on pure instinct, which you find to be eerily attractive.  

“God, sometimes I feel like Timberlake just gets me, yknow?” He shouts, linking his arm over your shoulder.  

You chuckle and nod, “You’ve certainly got that playboy attitude down pact.”  

“Think so? I’ve been workin’ on it, honest.” Mista leans his head against yours.  

“Mm..you’re a natural, baby.” You fumble the last word, cheeks warm with caution. 

But Mista seems flattered regardless, smirking and leaning his weight further into you. “Seems you ain’t so bad yourself.”  

He pulls away, grabbing at your hands and curling his fingers around yours so that you both move in unison, back to dancing like nothing had happened. You’re partially grateful, as he makes it easy for you to brush off your mistake, but you mentally remind yourself that you’ve got to step up your game at some point.  

The DJ continues to play what could be a miles long list of different music artists, throwing some EDM in the mix with the usual Pop hits and a few classics from the late 80’s to give everyone a bit of what they wanted, a true melting pot. Though, everything has been so high tempo, you feel like you haven’t had a real chance to catch your breath...and anyone with a brain knows that asphyxiation and inebriation are not usually a good combination. You consider stepping off the floor for a minute, just to get some fresh air, maybe even catch up with Leo and Bruno, but you also really don’t want to leave Mista’s side. He’s so captivating; it’d almost be a disservice to take your eyes off of him for even a second.  

Almost as if smelling your dilemma in the air, the DJ finally decides to play something slower. Not just slow, but awfully sensual as well. The overhead lights dim down to a stable blood orange, no longer flashing, but instead revolving over the crowd like a wave. The energy in the room doesn’t exactly die down, but its charge becomes a lot more...intimate. If everyone was close before, they were definitely a lot closer now; people grabbing hold of their lovers and friends alike, committing to more fluid and alluring movements.  

You find out very quickly that Mista is no exception to this sudden change. No, in fact, he was made for it. He eases himself out of your grasp, his previous motions going down to his hips, arms moving to frame a perfect perimeter of space around himself. Shit, maybe he really is a professional. Your eyes flick down to those shorts again when he turns around, and you tug at your shirt collar when you’re face to face with an ass that sits a little too nicely. You’d be a moron to let him get away from you now.  

You toss your apprehension somewhere off to the side, sliding up behind the man and gently slipping your fingers into his beltloops. Mista doesn’t flinch not one bit, but he does glance over his shoulder with a small smirk, as if waiting to see what you’ll do next...as if he knows what he’s doing to you. You huff a small laugh at the thought, pulling him towards you until your chest meets his back, hips meet his ass, before you’re swaying in sync again.  

“Knew you had it in ya’.” Mista quips, reaching behind to grab one of your hands and place it against his waist.  

“You were waiting on..me?”  

“Duh? You’ve been gawking at me all night, no way you were gonna step-off from an opportunity like this.”  

You should be ashamed by his observation, but it’s hilarious in it’s own way. “Fair. But you’re intimidating..can’t blame me for being a little hesitant.”  

Mista lays his head back on your shoulder, only to show you the way he screws his face up at your comment. “Intimidating? What’s there to be scared of, I’m just livin' it up here.”  

You shake your head, “You’ve just got a certain..aura, I guess. Like you’re untouchable. It’s even more intense up close like this..”  

His expression fades into something more pleased. “You’ve got a funny way of complimenting people.”  

You trail your fingers against his side, shrugging lightly. “I could stop, if you’d like.”  

Mista grins, “Bastard, don’t you dare. You’re like, the only guy who’s stayed with me tonight. I’ll take whatever I can get.”  

The admission makes you frown a bit, “I remember you mentioning that earlier...what’s up with that?”  

He waves it off, facing forward again. “Hell if I know. Most only stuck around for a friendly interaction, or a little making out..”  

Listening to him, you feel a little guilty, knowing you too had approached him for the idea of getting a quick lay. Worse that you were doing it to get over your ex. But...it didn’t have to stay that way. You did have some genuine interest in the guy.  

“That’s awful.”  

“Eh, I’m already over it. I’ve got better company now..” Mista chuckles to himself, raising his finger to trace along your jaw. He hums as he watches you lean into it.  

God damn it. Maybe it was the alcohol that was making you so easy, or just your overall exhaustion from dancing but...you’re hooked on his every move. He begins to roll his body back against yours in time with the music, sending a jolt through your core.  

“Glad I could be of service, then.” You mumble, moving your hands down to his hips and giving them a small squeeze. “Feels like I just got lucky, though..” 

“Aye, what’s so wrong with that? You should be over the moon if Lady Luck is on your side!”  

“..Huh?” 

“I’m sayin’ you should be grateful for luck’s grace. She doesn’t show up for just anyone, so that means you must hold good fortune..”   

The tone he takes with you is genuine, and you blink a little at his adamance, trying to think of something to steer the conversation back in the right direction. “..Uh..yeah, you’re right. Not every day I get my hands on a guy ashot as you.”  

“Yeah?” Mista’s smile returns, a hint of mischief in it. “I’d bet not, perv.”  

If it was meant to be an insult, it has the opposite effect, a slight tingle spreading along your palms. “..Have I gotten too-”  

“Nah..” He cuts you off, bringing his hand to your cheek to turn your face to his. “..I don’t mind. Touch as much as you wanna.”  

Your jaw drops pathetically, some dormant urge suddenly awakening within you. Trying to save face, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows drawn together as you stare at him. “I am like..painfully into you.”  

He laughs, tilting his head to the side. “Are you? Can’t tell with the way your hands are trembling, like you’re scared or somethin’.”  

You hadn’t noticed it at first, but his mention of it brings you to a shameful awareness. Indeed, your fingers shake lightly against the flat of his hips, as if ignorant of the lust currently pooling in your brain.  

"Not scared..well, maybe a little. ‘Wanna make sure I’m not doing anything to startle you..” You mutter, having just enough sense to re-fasten your grip on him, one hand now making a pass over the warm leather of his belt.  

“What, you think I’m fragile? I can handle anything you throw my way....wait, does that make me sound like a skank?” He frowns. 

You snicker at his randomness. “..Kinda. But hey, nothing wrong with knowing your limits.”  

He seems consoled by your assertion, relaxing in your hold. “Yeah..exactly. Point is, I ain’t built like a brick wall for nothin’. I’m not a fan of the gentle crap..too boring..”  

“Mm..” You nod along as his words begin to slur, eyes turned up at him while your palm slides against his stomach, grazing over a thick patch of curly hair.  

His overall frame is indeed very solid, toned muscles covered by a decent layer of chub, especially around his chest and legs. Makes your mouth water a bit. Maybe it was the alcohol finally catching up to you, but you wanted nothing more than to grab and squeeze at every inch of him, watch your fingers sink in and see his face contort in a strange pleasure... 

“I’m not so well versed in being ‘rough’, but I can try...for you.” You whisper. 

Mista sighs, leaning himself more firmly against you. “Yeah? That’d make me feel realll special, baby. Hit me with the best that you’ve got, and maybe you’ll get even luckier tonight..”  

That pet name rolls so easily off his tongue..he should be ashamed. As should you, with your lopsided smile, excitement threatening to clog your arteries.  “..That a challenge I’m hearing?”  

Mista's teeth flash beneath a passing red light. “Damn straight it is.”  

Pride and competition have a funny way of eliminating one’s anxiety. “...Bet.”  

Your body whirrs with adrenaline, hand still wobbling as you raise it to his chin. Behind his shades, you can tell Mista has his eyes focused on you, his smirk nowhere near disappearing as he waits for you to make a move. Screw him for being so fine. You turn Mista’s face towards yours, guiding him forward until your lips brush against each other. He teases you, letting your bottom lips touch for a split second before pulling his head back a little, to which you give chase. You narrow your eyes, trying not to pout, but he only stares with a raised brow. Cleary he was trying to get a rise out of you...but you find his behavior more adorable than aggravating.  

Still, you give him what he wants; tugging his chin back towards you, this time leaving no room for him to jerk away. Your lips finally press together in a hurried clash, the kiss completely void of congeniality. Despite you initiating, Mista has control over every movement, his tongue being the first to slip it’s way past your teeth to probe and relish in the warmth of your mouth. He doesn’t stop grinding against you all the while, deliberately swaying and pushing his hips into your crotch, somehow still in tune with the music. You’d find time to be impressed about it later, as right now all you can think of is how fucked you are for this guy already.  

With his lips captured, you focus your hands back on his body, trailing your fingers along the edge of his shorts, silently reveling at how the fabric strains around his legs. Mista shifts when your knuckles sweep against the skin of his inner thigh, heaving a little sigh that vibrates against you. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to recognize that he’s sensitive there, so you abuse your newfound knowledge by grabbing a handful of his upper thigh, giving it a tight squeeze while you nip at his lip. You’re dually satisfied when Mista arches against you, a groan sounding at the back of his throat.  

He swallows hard, but hardly stops to smile before diving back in to kiss you harder, laying his hand on top of yours for encouragement. Your heart feels like it could jump out of your chest, all this incoming stimulation almost too much to handle. Mista appears to be in the same boat, his pulse so palpable throughout his entire body; you can even feel it on his tongue. You wrap your unoccupied arm around his midsection, hand slowly slipping underneath his crop top to gently caress the soft skin of his ribs, causing him to press further into you. He’s practically hot to the touch, torso dampened with lingering sweat.  

“So warm..” You break away to say, now kissing the shell of his ear.  

Mista’s chuckle is caught on what you think might’ve been a moan. “That’s what hours of dancing will do to ya..”  

“No kiddin’.” You huff.  

He tilts his head up willingly as you lean forward to kiss his jaw, your lips tingling against the stubble that he’s allowed to grow there. Finally finding your own rhythm, you begin trailing kisses down the side of his neck, leaving blotches of red against his bronze skin along with small bites here and there. Not enough to pierce him, but definitely enough to leave small indents. Your hands continue to roam, crossing his love handles and tracing over the tiger stripes painted on his arms with a quiet tone of desire and need. Mista seems to be losing hold of his cool demeanor if the way he grabs at his hat is any indicator, 

“You ain’t so bad at this...” He breathes out, chewing on a whine when your nails drag along his abdomen.  

“Yeah, and you’re easier to break than I thought you’d be.” You try to hold back your smile, but the way he’s reacting is giving you a bit of an ego boost.  

“Dunno what the hell you mean..I’ve still got this shit on lock.” He smirks down at you wearily.  

You hum and press a little closer against his back, moving your hand to grope the space just below his belt buckle where his shorts are swallowed by his thighs. Expectedly, Mistas hips buck up into your palm like they’resentient, giving away his true position in the matter. Admittedly, it makes your own pants feel a bit tighter.  

“On lock? Kinda seems like you’re just about ready to give it up..”  

He sucks his teeth, embarrassed by the way his body betrayed him. “I blame the alcohol.”

It isn’t long after that that Mista is leading you off the dance floor, the two of you mushing through the crowd hand in hand. The DJ resumes his usual set, bringing back that original erratic flow that had everyone on their last breaths earlier, which only makes it harder to find a good break in the sea of people. Just when you think you’ve made it out in one piece though, you hear a familiar voice shouting at you from afar few feet away. 

“We knew you could do ittt!”  

You freeze, whipping your head around to see Bruno waving his arms at you, grinning wide. Leone stands behind him, pumping his fist to the music, but also apparently in solidarity with Bruno’s statement. You want to shrink into oblivion to the point of no return. Mista barks out a laugh, pointing at the couple with a raised brow.  

“You know them?”  

“...Friends of mine.” You grumble. Tomorrow, you’d be sure to give the two a piece of your mind.  

Mista smiles. “They seem nice! Veryyy supportive.”  

You resist rolling your eyes, tugging his hand to get his feet moving again. “Yeah, something like that...cmon, I’ll catch up with them later.”  

“Eh? You sure? I can wait a little bit if you wanna talk to ‘em.”  

You glance over your shoulder one more time, regretting it as soon as you see Bruno making a lewd gesture with his hands. “Nope. Totally fine.”  

The farther away you get from the main room, the thinner the crowd gets, reduced to small friend groups spread out and in their own worlds. Mista seems to know the layout of the club like the back of his hand, hardly as confused as you are when navigating the two of you to the far side of the building. But there was one thing you knew for sure-- 

“Isn’t the washroom in the opposite direction..?”  

Mista scrunches his face as if offended by the comment. “You wanna fuck in the bathroom..? What kinda man do you take me for?”  

“..Shit, sorry..I mean-you don’t exactly strike me as the refined type..”  

He snickers, “Nobody ever told you about not judgin' a book by it’s cover?”  

Cliche, but true. “..My bad.”  

“Aye, no need to get all sober about it. It’s cool..plus, I’m taking us somewhere even better.” Mista wiggles his eyebrows playfully, bringing a small smile back to your face.  

After speaking briefly to what you assume is a security guard of some sort, Mista shoulders open a large metal door, quickly dragging you in behind him. He holds your hand tight, the other keeping his hat in place as he takes you up a staircase that you never knew existed. The space is bathed in blacklight, highlighting the colorful graffiti tactfully scribbled on the brick walls around you. Your footsteps echo loudly in time with a now muffled tune, indicating you two were the only ones back here. Mista takes you up two levels, perhaps for good measure, stopping on one of the landings and pushing you back against the wall with a certain force that has your head spinning.  

Even as he rears closer, your eyes are still darting around, trying to get a feel for where the hell you are.  

“Is this...the fucking fire escape?”  

Mista pins a hand against the wall beside your head, the other taking off his shutter glasses. “Sure is. Neat, right?”  

Your gaze lands on him again, that sultry smirk of his, and now...his big brown eyes. Finally being under a stable light source, you can really admire the other features of his face..like his thick eyebrows and the little divots inhis cheeks...Dimples. Too cute. Seems he is a pretty boy after all.  

The realization makes your nerves spike again, and you stumble over your words. “S..Seriously? You’d fuck in a stairwell, but not the bathroom? Sounds contradictory.”  

He hooks his thumb into his shorts, tilting his head. “What? Come on, this place is ten times more sanitary.”  

“.withering concrete and glowing paint. Sanitary...right.” You say with a smile.  

Mista sighs. “Gimmie a break! Beggers can’t be choosers, aight? You’re welcome to leave if it’s not to your standards.” 

You shake your head, reaching out to lay your hand against his side. “What, after all the work I put in to woo you? No chance.”  

“Didn’t think so. Besides..no one will see us here, so we can get up to whatever we wanna.” He asserts, smiling as his lips are drawn to your neck, kissing the skin reverently.  

You chew your lip, hand now set on his back to keep him close. “You sound pretty sure of that... D’you bring a lot of guys here?”  

“Why, you jealous?” Mista’s soft chuckle sends a ripple of electricity through you. His banter is so effortless...it should be the absolute last thing that turns you on, but alas.. 

“’Course not..just curious..” You mutter.  

“Uhuh..so you say..” Mista hums and drags his lips along the underside of your jaw, free hand pressing against your stomach. His fingers slink beneath your shirt, making you squirm. “I don’t come here that often so...consider yourself special.”  

“Wow..I’m touched.”  

Had your brain been anymore scrambled with intoxication, you might’ve let yourself believe him without question. Though, your sarcasm only seems to rouse him, his knee nudging your legs apart so that he can slot himself closer. He consumes your gasp with a sloppy kiss, kickstarting the beat of your heart once more as his tongue fights for the attention of your own, to which you have no desire to refuse. You slide your hands down and aroundhis back until they settle over his ass cheeks; the way they fill your palms, so plump and malleable, you feel obligated to give them a generous squeeze.  

“Mmh-” Mista grunts and bites down on your bottom lip, breaths stuttering.  

You smile with a sort of pride, licking your way back into his mouth. Mista is just as eager to match your fervor, the kiss devolving into chaos in mere seconds. He moans and jitters the more you continue to fondle him, growing surprisingly vocal at even the smallest addition of pressure. You aren’t doing much better, panting pathetically and trying to clutch onto every bit of him that you can, as if that will somehow save you from being drowned in his passion. In reaching for the back of his head, you accidentally knock off his hat, revealing curly, dark hair that’s cropped just above his ears. Despite it being a bit damp, you pass your fingers through it, grip it, hold him as close as possible.  

Mista breaks to catch his breath, “Jesus christ—where have you been all my life? ’Feels like you’re trying to devour me.”  

Your eyelids flutter, and all you can think to say is, “..I am pretty hungry.”  

“..Ah?”  

Mista has only a split second to register the words before you grab him by the shoulder, using the brief pause as leverage to flip your positions, his back now against the wall. His eyes widen considerably, but he doesn’t recoil or complain. No, he doesn’t struggle in the slightest when you lift up his crop-top the rest of the way, exposing his bare chest to the warm air that surrounds you. In fact, he kindly holds the fabric up for you, giving what you assume is permission.  

Thoughts of your ex are so far removed from your mind now, you don’t even have the urge to question your own morals, how wrong it is to be engaging with someone else in this manner after such a recent breakup. Instead, a slur of depraved images shoot through your mind as you stare down at his torso; how you want to slather your lips all over it, squeeze his tits, run your hands over the dispersing pattern of every grove of hair...because damn is there a lot of it. It was only a matter of how far he’ll let you go...  

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” You decide to start by just feeling his body, dragging your knuckles against the length of him while capturing his lips in another soft kiss.  

He chuckles tenaciously, “I’ve been told..”  

He relaxes into your touch, but perks up a little when your hand cups his pec—yet you’re the one to let out a small whimper, horrifyingly aroused by the feeling of the fat seeping through the gaps of your fingers. Mista isn’texempt by any means, making his own erotic sounds into your ear when your middle finger so much as grazes his nipple. It only takes a few passes before it’s practically reaching out for you, hardened and waiting. What kind of man would you be to deny it? Deny him?  

You lower your head and turn your eyes up to Mista, melting beneath his needy stare as you flatten your tongue against his nipple, giving it one slow lick after another, now alternating between both pecs. His laid-back facade crumbles, brows pinched together as he stares with his mouth wide open, letting whiny croaks tumble out. It’s like music to your ears, far better than anything the DJ could’ve spun.  

His back bows off the brick wall as your tongue swirls in tight circles, and he bites down on his finger as if that will keep him from making anymore noise. It does not.  

“Shit..didn’t even know I was into this..” Mista is unsure of where to put his other hand, clear by the way he awkwardly latches it onto your shoulder.  

You simply smile and close your mouth around him, beginning a gentle sucking at the flesh, causing him to stutter out a rough moans, head now thrown back. You fear you could watch him like this forever, the way his lips quiver, and his long lashes flutter against reddened cheeks. But you also know that there’s so much more that you want to get around to... You allow yourself the pleasure of kissing, biting, and grasping his tits one last time, before forcing yourself off. His skin is left shimmering wet and slightly swollen, but that seems to be the least of his concerns.  

“Why’d you stop?” He sighs heavily, almost glaring at you. “Bored already?”  

“Nowhere near it. It's just..my mouth’s more useful for other things..” You quirk your brow, setting your hands on his hips before slowly starting to lower yourself. 

Mista blinks, and barely lets your knee hit the ground before he’s shaking his head and laughing. “Woah, woah, aye, the hell are you doing?”  

You stop in your tracks, staring confusedly. “...Was gonna give you head..?”  

He smirks slyly, tapping your chin. “Uh-uh, that’s a cop out. Off your knees, big guy...want you to fuck me proper.”  

Your stomach flips upside down, and you swear your vision goes blurry. Of all the things you suspected would come out of his mouth, it wasn’t..that. You swallow hard, fingers trembling as you make to stand again, guided by his persistent touch on your jaw. Your speechlessness clearly entertains him, as that smile of his only spreads further. He coaxes you back into his space, slipping his arm around your neck and hooking his thigh around your hip. Your hand moves instinctively to hold it up, and you’re drawn in by his hypnotizing gaze until your mouths end up pressed together once more.  

Mista grinds against you, a slow drag of bulging fabric along your front that has your mind buzzing with lust. You aren’t sure if you’ll even make it to taking off your damn pants—you don’t want to lose these intoxicating sensations for even a millisecond. You slant your hips forward in time with his own, the two of you no longer kissing, but more so breathing into each other’s open mouths.  

“’M not gonna last if we keep on like this..” You whisper.  

Mista’s forehead falls to your shoulder, his voice low and shaky. “Yeah..just a little longer though..”  

There was no room left to discuss it. “Mh..okay..”  

You reach down for Mista’s other leg, hauling it up so that you’re holding him against the wall by his thighs. He whines against your neck, crossing his ankles around your back to keep himself securely suspended. The position allows your bodies to remain in constant contact, your barred erections feeding off the equally euphoric and discomforting friction. It’d be a miracle if you walked away from this without any chafing.  

The slow grind morphs into a desperate, staccato thrusting on your part, and Mista can do little more than cling to you, curling a fist into your shirt as his head is thrown back once more. His moans echo through the stairwell, mixing with yours to spiral throughout the space and completely overtake whatever already muffled background music that had been playing. You can feel your arms growing tired, knees a little weak, but nowhere in your mind do you plan on stopping.  

“Fuck-fuck yes-God, please..” Mista stammers, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “More- g’me more-”  

Your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs, eyes feebly locked onto his face as you whimper, humping him like a man starved for far too long. Seeing this, he pushes himself forward to kiss you yet again, returning that same level of greed in the flick of his tongue. It’s anything but controlled, and you soon feel a bit of drool running down your chin..but from whom, you’re not sure.  

“Think I’m gonna cum-” You blurt, bumping your teeth against his in the process. The realization had hit you way sooner than expected, and lord knows you’d never been good at trying to force a delay upon yourself.  

You expect him to protest, but Mista doesn’t even stop to speak, just nods as he anchors his arms further around your neck. And it wasn’t like you needed his permission...but somehow, having it made it so much hotter. As that flurry feeling begins setting your lower half on fire, your hips press hard into his, both of you jerking against each other until a final drag does you in. You should be embarrassed by the pitchy sound that escapes your throat as you come, but you’re too busy being buried by relief to care. Mista’s climax is soon to follow, his calves trembling against you, moans waning on your lips as his hips come to a grating halt.  

“Ugh..” A string of saliva connects your lips as he pulls back for air, warm breaths still littered with quiet whines.  

You close your eyes and sigh, leaning your head into the crux of his neck. The feeling of soiled jeans is something you hadn’t had the misfortune of experiencing since you were probably a teenager...needless to say, you didn’tmind it all that much at the moment.  

“..So much for fuckin’ you proper...” You murmur, mentally kicking yourself for getting so carried away.  

Mista laughs hoarsely, patting your back. “Hey, I ain’t mad...shit was amazing.”  

You hum, still feeling as though you gave him a pretty lackluster experience. If he claimed to have enjoyed it though, you weren’t going to argue...especially considering it was one of the best orgasms you’d had in a while. And that’s saying a lot.  

After taking a second to let your heart calm down, you carefully set Mista’s legs down on the floor again, crouching down to fix his shorts for him. Admittedly, you’re still thinking about what it would’ve been like to suck him off...in fact there were many things that you still wanted to do to him and for him. Unfortunately, you have too much dignity and are feeling way too exhausted to make any of this known. So, you give his inner thigh a little parting kiss before standing again, and adjusting your own clothes.  

Mista smiles shyly, scratching his cheek. “You’re a real interesting guy.” 

Dusting off your shirt, you raise a brow. “..Interesting?”  

He bends over to pick up his hat, a sinful view that should have you backtracking. “Can’t put my finger on it but...I think I like you.” Indeed, he says it as if it’s a question to himself. 

“Pretty straightforward way of putting it..” You try to play it cool, folding your arms against your chest.  

He shrugs. “No need to beat around the bush. But uh...Listen..” Mista approaches again, setting his hands on your waist with a small grin. “I can tell you’re pretty bummed at how things ended here so...maybe you can ‘make it up to me’ some other time?” 

If only he could see the rainbows and sunshine sprouting in your mind right now.  

You clear your throat. “..Yeah?”  

“Mhm.”  

“..Okay..I’d like that.”  

“Sweet.”  

Mista’s eyes trail over your face one last time, lingering as he digs something out from his pocket, and sticking it into the crease of your elbow. It might’ve been mysterious and cool if the crumpled paper didn’t immediatelyunravel and fall to the ground..but clearly Mista could care less as he’s already heading for the stairs, leaving you blinking stupidly after him.  

“See ‘ya round, cutie.” He throws up a hand, waving goodbye over his shoulder. 

You quickly reach down for the piece of paper, smoothing it out the rest of the way and holding it up to the light:  

‘xxx-xxx-xxxx  

~Guido Mista, available 25/7 Fri-Sat'  

“A fucking homemade business card..” You shake your head with a short laugh, shoving the scrap into your pocket.

Somehow, it seems very on brand for someone like him. Though, the state of the ‘card’ makes you think he had handed it out and taken it back several times...you now being the only one who actually got to keep it. You touch your fingers to your lips, glancing at the staircase where Mista’s footsteps have already stopped clacking, and the bracaelte still glowing on your rist..  

Seems you really do have good fortune after all.  

a/n: My Mista hunger is no where near satiated after this...there will be more in the future, mark my words...

“I don’t like what he’s doing, baby,” you tell Noriaki while putting your pajamas on. “Not because he’s not spending time with us, but because he’s overworking himself.”

“Mm, I know.” He gets in the bed, already pulling his arms out so you can bury yourself in them. “But there’s nothing we can do about it, he’s a stubborn motherfucker. He’ll comeback when he needs us”

That’s true, you can’t even deny it. There was one time where you tried to talk Jotaro out of his studio, it ended up with him not talking to you or Kakyoin for two days straight, so bothering him wasn’t an option.

The clock on the nightstand glowed at 1:07 when the bedroom door cracked open, you were half asleep on your back with your head resting on Noriaki’s open arm. The mattress dips hard. Jotaro flops right between you two, shirtless and with his sweatpants. Both you and Kakyoin freeze, not knowing what to do in this situation, it’s the first time this has ever happened. For a second, nobody moved, Jotaro just lay there on his stomach, taking up so much space that both of you had to shift a little. He smells like burnt coffee and a hint of sweat. 

“Mm.” Was the only thing he said, not even a word, just a grumpy rumble. His arm moved next, clumsily sliding over your side until his hand found your hip and tugged.

You glanced at Noriaki over Jotaro’s back, he was as confused as you, but he gave you the tiniest nod. Carefully, you turned toward Jotaro and pressed yourself against his side, he was too warm after sitting in his studio for hours without moving. 

“Hey,” you whispered. “You okay?”

“Mm.” It was quieter this time, his fingers flexed on your hip, pulling you even tighter until your chest was flush against his ribs. 

Noriaki moved too, scooting in from the other side and draping an arm across Jotaro’s back so his hand could rest on your shoulder. The three of you tangled together in a messy pile that would have made Jotaro roll his eyes any other night.

“You’ve been killing yourself with those exams,” Noriaki murmured, his fingers tracing circles between Jotaro’s shoulder blades. “We were worried.”

Jotaro didn’t answer with words. He just turned his face toward you, nose brushing your forehead. His free hand found Noriaki’s wrist and gave it a loose squeeze, like a silent thank you. You could feel how tense his body still was, all those hours of hunching over notes and textbooks locked into his muscles.

You lifted your head just enough to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to say anything. Just stay like this as long as you need.”

He gave you a little Mm again, this time relieved. Slowly his leg shifted, tangling with yours at the same time his other arm reached back to pull Noriaki closer until he was pressed to his back. 

Noriaki kissed the back of Jotaro’s neck. “Sleep, JoJo, we’ve got you.”

Jotaro’s breathing finally evened out, tickling your neck. You stayed awake a little longer, listening to his heartbeat, your fringers drawing tiny starts on Jotaro’s arm just to remind him you were still there. He might not like cuddling on normal nights, but you and Noriaki will cherish these moments with your hearts forever.

a/n: for my girl @irisgrrl <33

Jotaro Kujo

- it was totally his fault for not knocking in the first place. the one time he didn't think to do so.

- your voice was quiet, your back pressed against the mattress and your head rolled back in ecstasy.

- your hands were working wonders, you were so close. you just needed one more push.

- "hey," jotaro called out the second he opened your door. "what do you want to-"

- "fuck..!" you cursed, quickly scrambling to cover yourself with a blanket. but it was much too late.

- jotaro had seen everything.

- his gaze was sharp, the hat that he wore hiding his eyes as he tipped it downward. but he was glad that you failed to notice the pink on his cheeks.

- but not without oogling at your exposed body, even as you were covered up he had a good mental image.

- you were honestly more terrified that he hadn't said anything and continued to stand there like a brick wall. you wanted to reach around and throw something at him.

- "get- get out..!" you yelled and he wasted no time obliging your orders much to your own relief.

- he closed the door without saying another word, his cheeks still pink as the scene replayed in his head. he had almost forgotten what the hell he went in there for in the first place.

- good fucking grief, you couldn't have waited until he was asleep?

Joseph Joestar

- the issue was that you needed something to help fuel you up. pleasuring yourself felt boring if it was just build up stress. you needed to focus your mind on something else.

- and coincidentally, joseph was the last person you talked to before hitting the hay that night he walked in.

- you moaned his name, melting into the hotel's pillows as you kept your legs spread apart and allowed your hand to do all the work.

- unfortunately for joseph and his big age, his hearing isn't the best. at least thats what he tells himself

- but he was definitely sure he heard you just as he was about to knock at your door. but discarded the thought and walked in anyways.

- "im lending you the car keys for-.. holy shit!" he blurted dramatically, your body freezing on the spot.

- his eyes had seen everything. you were sprawled out on the bed, a fucked out expression on your face. clothes completely scattered to the floor and the sheets were a jumbled mess.

- "mr. joestar..! please get out!" you did very little to cover yourself. i mean, he already saw everything. whats left is for you to just disappear right then and there.

- he cleared his throat, immediately turning around so that you were facing his back.

- "right, right... i was- just going to tell you that i want to leave you with the car keys." he explained, itching to look over his shoulder once again. just out of curiousity.

- but he got no response from you and he took that as his cue to leave.

Mohammad Avdol

- another situation where it was his fault for not knocking. he shouldve known better and he scolds himself internally.

- and oh my, you just looked disgustingly adorable with your legs spread; nearly dangling off the sides of the bed. one arm between your legs and your face blissed out.

- when he barged in, he expected you literally doing anything else. but alas, he was flashed by your nudity

- "oh..? im so sorry.. please, excuse me." avdol cleared his throat when you both made eye contact with each other.

- you quickly covered yourself, seeing as he still had his head turned to look away. your cheeks were flushed and you were sweaty.

- "um.. avdol..?" you weakly called out to him and he stopped in his tracks. you were still really horny and you hadn't come just yet. "do you.. want to help me?"

- he froze in place, almost unable to comprehend what you said to him.

- you wanted him..? to help... you? and he knew this was highly innapropriate. hell, you weren't even together.

- but the heat has gotten to him, along with the stress.

- "if you don't mind," avdol smiles. "i couldn't look away from you when i walked in. you look.. irresistible."

- he looked at you with a lidded gaze.

- and he was quick to close the door behind him and walked over to you.

Noriaki Kakyoin

- he knew what you were up to when he approached your door, wanting to borrow something from you. a reaccuring thing the two of you have done.

- he knew to knock at your door before barging in. his footsteps were always light but before his knuckles could touch the wooden wall, he heard your muffled voice.

- "ohh.. yes..!" you gasped, face pressed against the pillow as you fucked yourself against a toy that you had recently bought. you were bored enough to test it out.

- kakyoin stood outside the door, back pressed with his arms crossed and a little smirk on his face.

- you had no idea that he was out here. and for a while too.

- should he even bother you? he would ask himself, itching to pull his phone out to even go as far as to record you. but he digresses.

- fixing himself up, he gently knocks your door and bites back the laugh that he wanted to let out from you scrambling on the other side of the door. you sounded distressed.

- "it's me," kakyoin already reaches for the door knob. "you okay in there?" the door creaks open.

- and he catches you pantless but with a shirt long enough to cover some part of you.

- "what the fuck..?!" you panted, face completely flushed and your shirt wrinkled.

- "whoops." he turned to look the other way. "you're not that slick as you'd think." he chuckles.

- and all you wanted to do was crawl to the closest dark space and hide your face away forever.

Jean Pierre Polnareff

- this was wrong. he knew this was wrong and he felt like a dirty, pervert for intruding your personal space.

- his mouth felt dry, his hands trembled slightly as the grip he had on your doorknob tightened.

- all it took was one moan. one noise coming from your room and he had his ear pressed against the door like a creep.

- on the other side of the door, you fucked yourself against your favorite toy. your legs were trembling.

- and you were thinking about polnareff. his big strong arms and his big strong chest trapping you.

- but the french man felt the same about you, any little hint you threw at his direction of you being a tease seriously got to him. and he it followed him when he was alone, touching himself.

- but you wished he was here right now, watching you make a complete mess out of yourself.

- you felt that familiar feeling pooling by your tummy, your free hand desperate to hold on to something. anything.

- and you came all over the toy, your eyes completely shut as you bit your lower lip.

- polnareff had walked in at the right time, he stood there with his mouth slightly agape. did he hear his name correctly?

- and once you opened your eyes, you tensed up when you actually see him there.

- "p-polnareff..?!" you gasped.

I'm gonna put the TL/DR version here in case people don't care to read the entire thing.

How I see Mista as a character is someone who is very loyal and caring, but so prepared to do what's needed of him.

Yes he's funny and easy going but I think he has such a deep seated loneliness in his heart that makes him so open. I think he has.. Less than great intuition, trusting Giorno very quickly even though he doesn't know him in the slightest. But I think it's not particularly him being naïve either.

I think that he is willing to die and to kill for his friends, no matter the cost. Because it's something so deep ingrained into him that he desires that love and friendship that he would rather not be a part of it at all as long as it means they'll be okay.

And no I don't think he wants to die. But when it comes to choosing his life or his friends? He'll choose to throw himself into danger as many times as he needs to.

Okay so lets talk his stand first. It's pretty rare that people even have colony stands in general, only really a handful of characters have them.

But his is interesting because yes the others are in some way semi sentient and even some can talk (Bad company/Harvest), but his is the only one that is COMPLTELY sentient (from anime only, I am not sure if there are others that are in 7-9 , so please correct me if so.) Even so much as having full conversations and even rivalling each other. But can also act fully separate from the user, even when he is actively dying and also unconscious.

But lets talk about WHY I think he has a colony stand.

In his backstory there is not a single moment that Mista isn't shown to be alone, yes he is himself as very relaxed and even the narrator calls him "Simpleminded." And I truly do think that he enjoys his life, he lives the way he wants to and doesn't mind that he is in that way alone.

But I think he IS lonely, before GW starts especially and after it ends, I feel that he ignores it because, as he says, he believes overthinking just causes unnecessary fear. But under all that relaxed happy life I think he doesn't have anyone and it's something that he desperately craves, not even necessarily as just a relationship. I mean friends.

On top of this let's talk about just how fast he joined Passione, yes Bruno bails him out and he of course owes him his life, but if it was anyone else...

Would YOU seriously be willing to give up your happy life to join the Mafia just because someone gives you the option to go back to that life? No. None of us would. I think he was absolutely in some way unhappy in that life.

Yes he might be chill and happy on his own. But the lack of that deep or even the surface level friendships drags him down.

Which is why I think he joined so fast, he clearly lives alone (at 17 by the way...) I think he was so taken aback that Bruno was willing to not only bail him out but also was only ASKING for him to join, he could have said no at any time. And it makes him want that friendship more than anything. It makes him feel useful and wanted.

Which is exactly why I think his stand manifests as fully sentient, because even though we don't know much about his past, I think he's been alone for a long time.

Long enough that he gives up trying to stop being alone and instead just goes with what life wants from him, choosing to enjoy his own company than trying to make connections that never stick.

But I think he desires it. And that's why not only does he have a colony stand but I think that's why it shows up in the way it does.

It's companionship.

And he's so agonisingly loyal that he doesn't care what happens to him as long as he can protect the people that gave him that friendship. Ghiaccio's fight especially.

He was so willing to die for a boy he BARELY knows, all because he trusted him and that it was the right thing to do.

I think that'll only get worse after GW also, he becomes Giorno's only friend and I think because he's all he has left I think he would do anything that Giorno asked of him.

But lets talk dynamic a little bit.

I think that he actually takes after Bruno quite a lot. He is so devoted to him as a person that he starts unconsciously making sure that everyone else is okay before he is. Choosing to take the brunt of the fights, the brunt of the violence to protect his team.

He is obviously a lot more openly playful, completely enjoying his life and does whatever he thinks is fun/funny when he doesn't need to be locked in.

But I think the second he's by himself again the loneliness creeps back in, less so overthinking but I think it definitely still happens. No one can fully just stop worrying and overthinking.

I can imagine that it's not something that keeps him awake at night, nor is something that eats away at him.

But I still feel that not only the trauma of taking someone's life adds up, it doesn't matter if it was for what he believes is right, and I don't think he would regret it, not entirely. But their blood is on his hands nonetheless. And it'll add up even if he never tells anyone that.

He is genuinely just friendly and caring to everyone that he trusts and I think it makes him such an easy person to become friends with, he's funny, he's engaging with the entire gang and even to random people that he doesn't think want to... You know, murder them.

But he's so insanely capable of the cruelty that is needed of him, his entire stand is perfect for protection, for killing. He would kill for the people that he cares about, he's the only one bar Bruno that we see fully willing to kill outright from the very beginning. Especially for his friends.

And now the thing everyone memes about his character.

The number 4.

It's either a very serious Tetraphobia or OCD, as someone who doesn't have OCD I'm not here to diagnose so I will instead just talk about it as a whole.

He clearly gets incredibly anxious over the number, and for the viewer it's almost humorous at the very beginning when he's griping over cake.

But to him? It isn't funny.

He genuinely believes that something terrible will happen around the number 4, to the point where he needs it to be avoided in any case.

The cake. The boat.

Mista being the 4th person Bruno picks up.

That number 5 gets bullied so relentlessly because it IS bullet 4

The multiple times that he only has 4 bullets left or in the chamber.

He never shoots 4 bullets all at once (that I can remember) He staggers them. But also the need for Trish to knock the bullet from his hand because SHE was the one to drop him not him.

Which is insanely obsessive behaviour because he thinks that he can't do it for her. And it'll solidify in his mind that it was the reason when something bad happens right after.

But guess what? It is shown to be insanely unlucky throughout the ENTIRE part...

The date that they betray Diavolo and Bruno Bucciarati 'dies' - April 2nd.

The date that Narancia and Diavolo die and it ends - April 6th.

4 days apart.

Lets talk really quick on the 4's surrounding his teammate's deaths.

Abbacchio takes the 4th piece of the cake at the very beginning.

Bruno "dies" on the 2nd and then dies on the 6th. 4 days apart.

Narancia dies when there is 4 bullets on the floor that Trish drops.

I can imagine that this causes him a LOT of panic any time it shows up, especially after GW because it all solidifies to him that he was right every time that it happened and most likely makes him stray from it even further out of genuine terror that it'll happen again.

I also think he will have a great deal of survivors guilt over the entire mission after Giorno becomes don, I think it would cause a lot of friction at first, hell even for a while. Especially if he ever found out about Giorno's plan to overthrow the boss from the start.

He would absolutely also want to seek Fugo out, he would be the last remaining member of his team from before and I think he would need that rather than lose everything he finally had in less than a week.

He may be less traumatised than the others but that to me, doesn't make him any less tragic </3

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who gathers all his courage and fear of ruining the friendship. “I am here.” It takes you a few seconds to understand what he was talking about. You blink and try to reach for his eyes but he takes a step back, turning his back to you. You reread the letter, realizing that it is Josuke’s handwriting. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who just wants you to reject him and to get out of there, his body can’t take the embarrassment anymore. Then he feels how you tap on his shoulder. “Hey, Josuke. Could you turn around, please?” you ask, trying to see him from above his shoulder, but he’s turning his face to the opposite side. “No…” he says, swallowing. “Okay! Would you tell me what you were planning to tell me, please?”

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who doesn’t know if you were trying to embarrass him more or what, but he took a deep breath and (with his back still turned towards you), told you: “I was… kinda planning to ask you out. On a date… to the cinema or the arcade, I don’t know.” 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who doesn’t believe it when he hears you saying: “I’d love that, Josuke.” He turns around at that moment, seeing you with a tiny smile and heat in your cheeks. “R-really?” He swallows, rubbing the back of his neck as you nod. “Yes! Does this Saturday sound good?” He’s now the one nodding vigorously. “Yes, yes! I’ll come pick you up at four.”

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who’s a total gentleman on the first date and on the ten that follows. He takes you to the cinema and the arcade, to a nice Italian restaurant, to a bookshop and even for a picnic at the park. He loves seeing how you get more and more confident, being more relaxed around him.

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who makes you laugh very easily with his anecdotes or just with stupid jokes. The sound of your laugh is music for him. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who asks you if he can kiss you goodnight on the sixth date, even though he’s terrified. When you confess that you’ve never kissed anyone, he sighs in relief because he’s never kissed anyone either!!

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who you invite to your house to kiss. That’s the hang out, just kiss. It’s messy and embarrassing at first, teeth and nose clashing together, but at some point everything becomes smoother. Your lips find a way of fitting together, his hands rest loosely on your waist as you sit on his lap with your arms tickling the back of his neck. Every now and then you separate with your breaths ragged to say sweet nothings and giggle. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who after the make out session keeps you tucked by his side, playing with your fingers, but not really talking. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who asks you to be his boyfriend at that moment, seeing you with your plump lips and shining eyes after all that kissing. He asks you to be his girlfriend looking at you straight in the eye, totally different as how he confessed the first time. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who squeaks when you tell him yes and pulls you in a big and tight hug, squishing your cheek against his chest and filling your face with kisses. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who loves walking hand in hand, swinging them together and bringing your knuckles to his mouth to kiss them every once in a while. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who lets you fix his hair when some strands fall, taking his comb and putting them back in place with gentleness and a kiss on the cheek at the end. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who’s really into physical touch and words of affirmation, telling you how pretty you look today with a hand on your waist and making you spin on your heels. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who carries your bag if he sees that it’s bothering you, swinging it on his shoulder as you just roll your eyes. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who sometimes can’t believe that he is with someone as funny and gorgeous as you, making him sigh of love when he sees you opening the door of your house to receive him and jumping into his arms for a kiss. 

first boyfriend!josuke higashikata who makes sure that your first year anniversary is perfect, he’s been saving up for a while to take you to your favorite restaurant and to stargaze on the top of a hill. He gives you a big bouquet of your favorite flowers and when you least expect it, he shows the necklace he’s been hiding around his neck, with your initials on it. “I bought one with mine too, if you want to match…” You say yes at that very moment, asking him to put it on for you. Then you spent the rest of the night making out while watching the stars and talking about nothing.

a/n: love this guy