Guido Mista: Just For Fun?

TW // nsfw content !!

Sssooo… this had to be a fic due on Mista’s birthday, but I got killed by work and assignments and stuff, and could never manage to finish, but tonight I took a little time and concentrated on it properly before it was really TOO late. Enjoy~ ^_^

Guido Mista having a SPICY time with a neutral!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.04k

It felt so good. Damn, it felt so good. You weren’t even sure there was love for you, by his side. But you wouldn’t have stopped him for any reason. The gunslinger had come to you to tell you about Bucciarati’s orders for the day. You had to show up at Passione’s headquarters in a couple of hours, so, just for the sake of not getting bored in the meantime, you invited Mista in your house to have a chat. Unfortunately, or maybe luckily, the two of you seemed to have other plans in mind.

The things about the man exploring your body with his gaze, wasn’t new to you. You’d been noticing this before, at work, outside, and in general. And it wasn’t like you weren’t interested in Mista’s attention, you just couldn’t help but thinking that having relationships with colleagues wasn’t the best choice you could make. Little did it matter in that moment, realizing the two of you would have had to make up a believable excuse for your late arrival at Passione’s headquarters.

“G-Guido!” bringing your thoughts cruelly back to the present, the gunslinger thrusted inside of your spent hole for one last time, without either of you coming. It had been a strong thrust, without mincing words, not slow and definitely not gentle, rough enough to hear you raise your voice for him. You just liked this thing about Mista being so mercilessly rough, and you couldn’t tell you weren’t expecting something like this from a man like him. You had stayed still until you felt his shaft come out of your sensitive body. And despite that, you had remained folded on the bed, because you knew him, Guido Mista would have never let you in peace so easily. Oh, he still had so much to do, with your body, after so much time of waiting and pushing it back.

Just in general, he liked to insist and keep going, starting from the most absurd and almost useless things, in any situation, like telling everyone about the fact that Narancia - he had told about it at least five times, once for every Bucciarati Gang ​​member, him and Narancia excluded - had once scared him late at night during a sleepover by his house. The truth is, if we really want to keep a solid and actual comparison, that Mista guy’s brains almost worked like his good companion’s, Narancia. He probably soaked up some parts of his behavior, too. The most messed up ones, if I’m allowed to say that.

A kind of soul of the party, without them the boredom used to make itself easy to be felt, or in any case it made his absence noticed when nobody laughed or joked, but sexually speaking, to stay in the italian area, there is a valid and comparison with the loud mess you can find in Naples’s markets and squares, too. People screaming, people yelling, someone laughing and a neverending music you don’t even know where to locate. Oh, and food. Plenty of food. Don’t ask an italian to skip a meal, folks. You were now being Guido’s three course meal, rather than a snack.

You felt yourself being touched in a way that was anything but chaste by the strong hands of the curly, dark haired boy. It was the representation of a proper Gold Experience, to finally see the hair hidden under that hat of his, and you had to admit that sinking a hand inside of it was amazing. Plus, it perfectly represented his explosive personality. Mista’s eighteen years of age - by now - surely influenced his amount of stamina and strength, he had arms that deserved the respect for which they had been designated by his genetic make-up, evidently. As if some foreplay and ministrations were necessary, after the previous hellish - or perhaps heavenly - hour in which nothing else had happened, other than the young italian roughly and ferociously pushing his length into your body, you felt his long and calloused fingers enter your needy hole, not so much time to waste and not many premises to make. Oh good lord.

“Guido…” your soft voice moaned, bending your head forward, then forced to pull it back up when you arched your back due to the sudden but perfect points that the boy’s experienced fingers dared to touch.

“Right here…? You want it right here?” he teased. Oh, he had fun teasing. All the gunslinger wanted was to hear you beg for him to give you the pleasure you needed, and he knew where to touch to get you ruined for him. His fingertips grazed against a special spot, once, twice, and he laughed it over, looking at you curling up your fingers everytime, little moans coming out of your throat, your hands gripping on the bedsheets. “Damn tesoro, you’re so sensitive…” he said in his hateful, proud, signature mocking tone.

“…O-Oh my god, Guido… this might be the third time you do it… right there…” but that sentence did not last long, considering the gunslinger’s intentions, who bent down to use his experienced tongue where before only his fingers were. Fuck that guy and his stupid attitude. Fuck his behavior, fuck his warm tongue, penetrating your needy hole along with his fingers, leaving you speechless and breathless every second more. At least a dozen times, surely, you insulted him, cursing and groaning under the wet and beautiful contact of the boy’s lips and tongue as they worked on you. You would have lied, if you said you hadn’t dreamt of this before.

Given the position you were now in, when you were too quiet or too noisy for your dirty lover’s liking, the size of Mista’s hands came in handy, to spank you and startle you enough to react and oblige to his will. He wasn’t very gentle, as a sexual character. Let’s say that he enjoyed leaving his masterpieces incomplete. Like that orgasm of yours which was very little time apart from exploding, for example. When he withdrew his hands and tongue drom you, you couldn’t hold back from complaining… probably too much for the man’s liking. “F-Fuck! I was so damn close…” you squealed, disappointed, and let your tongue speak for yourself, shivering because of the current emptiness of your hole. “Why have I chosen to have sex with you… I could have paid someone from the street… or maybe a colleague of yours… hm?”

You had gone too far. At those words, you felt Guido grab your hair in a tight grip. Not too much to seriously hurt you, but enough to fuel your arousal even more. You can’t say you haven’t obtained exactly what you were looking for. “Excuse me, or better… excuse you, do you mind repeating what you just said, cara/o?” Damn, that turned you on so much. Obey him. Just obey him. You thought, until the brat part of you took over.

“N-no… I …” you slightly turned towards him, and unexpected as it was, but incredibly hot, his member was right in front of the tip of your nose, right now. You stared at it, bouncing in front of you. Average length, but interesting girth, nothing to say. A good one. You wouldn’t have minded to choke on it. “Nothing… I said nothing.”

“Nuh-uh, I heard you, little fucker.” he pulled you closer to him, his leaking tip now grazing on your cheek, leaving a slightly humid trail behind it. Mista’s grip on your hair tightened. “Repeat for me, will you…?” he cooed, faking a soft and calm tone of his voice. Then, he clenched his teeth. “What could you do, you said?” For a split second, you thought about how Bruno was probably waiting for you at Passione’s headquarters, and there you were instead, with Mista’s cock hanging in front of your face.

“Nothing. I couldn’t do anything…”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” with a further squeeze he made you moan and cry out, taking the opportunity to push his leaking member into your mouth. You felt yourself suffocate, Mista had no small one at all, to be completely honest, he was far from it. And you madly liked him, not only for that, also as a person. On a psychological and personal level. Nice, funny, serious when needed - maybe-, and absolutely beautiful. How many people would have sold their soul to the devil, to spend a single night with Naples’s forbidden dream - or at least he said so. He probably made it up for his own self-esteem -? He also tasted good, to be honest. Details like those were important, too.

You soon understood that the only way to not to feel too bad with his strength and stamina, was to go along with his desires seriously, and thanks to this little thought that for an hour now had been helping you with Guido’s sexual cravings, you brought a hand to the man’s member, to help with your hands your work on him. You saw him start to move his hips towards your mouth and back, that choking sensation intensified even more due to the fact that Mista’s hips thrusted forward as you bent down on him, yet as much as your eyes could water and tear up, the man’s proud moans only hinted at how much it actually excited him, to see you struggle and choke on his length. “Dammit… don’t give me those teary eyes… I’m gonna fucking cum.” And, deep down, it was a good fuel to your own arousal. But you wouldn’t have dared to tell Guido, or you would have made him brag for ages about it.

His movements got to a sudden halt, when the gunslinger reached his high, in the depth of your throat, as his own breath hitched with yours. “Fuck, y/n…!” It was very deep, and due to the choking sensation, your soft face already had two hot, heavy and salty tears running down your cheeks, not really from pain but from exertion, that guttural effort you usually make when you have to throw up, when you yawn and when you cough. Every action that, even if minimal, brings the eyes to that moist, thing layer that, straining even more those feelings, makes it become tiring and uncontrollable tears. You felt Mista’s warm cum run down your throat. Still, you took the chance to taste it properly. It was so good. Another thing you wouldn’t have told Guido.

It was a different sensation, compared to when you swallowed it down yourself. Or at least it was, in other experiences you had, but you were wondering if it wasn’t Guido’s presence, making you feel in some sorts of ways. Anyways, by swallowing down yourself, you were fast enough to not to feel the need to cough. But this way, the warm fluid flowed dramatically slowly, along the walls of your throat, down, while you only wondered when you would stop feeling it moving in your lower neck and upper chest. The satisfied look on Mista’s face, who was now approaching you again, after having pulled his member out of your tender mouth, spoke by itself, and said a few simple and easily interpretable words on the line of “You will feel this warmth also somewhere else, soon.” and perhaps you weren’t even really complaining about it.

Even if you hoped for it to not to be that intense and strong. Too bad it would have been such, but Mista knew what he was doing, so you just chose to let him do his thing to you. “…If you do want it, it is.” oh. The fact that he made sure you were still agreeing to it, caused a weird warmth to pop up in your chest. Dominant Guido was a good Guido, but respectful Guido was the best version of him. You just smiled, and quickly nodded. Of course you wanted more. You felt your legs get grabbed and opened by strong and calloused hands, you were still ready and sensitive for him, despite all the times you had come for him that evening. And despite all the times he had denied you an orgasm.

He slipped his hard length inside of you without hurting your sensitive hole too much, or maybe it was just you who were already too used to keeping that damned neapolitan inside of your body, for that night. And you thanked God for it, otherwise it would have been quite painful. A beautiful pain, in any case. First thrust, Mista groaned very loudly, clenching his teeth. One day you’ll complain to him, about the fact that he’ll be expecting too much time from you to dedicate to having sex. “But you can stretch your muscles like this,” he’ll insist, looking for a bright side or a diversionary way to respond to your grip on him against the wall. You held on the bedsheets and bit your lower lip, keeping a moan from coming out.

Second thrust, even stronger. You began to even pull on the bedheets because of the gunslinger’s cock, grazing just on the right spots, the spots only him could brag about being able to find so quickly. Maybe you would have ruined or ripped your own bedsheets. Just maybe. Worse than that time when Narancia and him had decided to become the funny people of the situation, and by folding and shredding Pannacotta’s bedsheets, they made some table doilies. Afterwards, Fugo didn’t really want to punish them too much, to be honest. Just enough to cause the two of them three or four displaced fractures, but obviously Bruno and Leone wouldn’t let him do that either.

Third thrust, Guido had started seriously moaning on his own breathy groans. He sounded like he had started to chuckle on his own voice, and that… well, that was kinda hot. “How… How do you keep on being so tight after all of this… you’re just like I dreamt… or even better, I say…” you felt your arousal reach the stars, when you realized Mista had been dreaming of you. Well, you would have lied if you told him you hadn’t been dreaming of him as well. But all you could do in that moment, was moan and chuckle with him. He was such a funny man, after all. You thought of that time when, together with Giorno, he had well thought about ordering a dick-shaped pizza for Abbacchio’s birthday, the package labeled “For a pissing goth”. How were you thinking of this while having sex? Oh my god.

Fourth thrust. You were now trembling, along with moaning. “Fuck, Guido… just like that…” you begged, clenching your teeth and not only. “Make me cum, please…” He was being so damn strong, Mista, in that moment, but thinking about that little, big, funny part of his personality, from the vicissitudes with the Gang - although he almost never admitted to be guilty of those - to his iconic tetraphobia, the fear of number four. This is why, he was pretty fast to thrust inside of you an essential fifth time. And the thrusts that appeared so strong at first, seemed now softer, slower. Slower. And frenzied, because of his own climax approaching him.

“Y-Y/n… cum now…! Fuck… cum for me.” How could you even think about resisting to it? You let go and rode your high, followed by him. Witnessing such an intense pleasure and feeling of being filled in such a good way from the neapolitan gunslinger, your body trembled and shivered, your hands scratched and caressed the perfect and imperfect skin of the shoulders of Guido Mista, who, filling you with what was left of his tiredness, he let go and collapsed on your sweaty body. “Thank you… damn… thank you.” in that moment, you really hoped he hadn’t just took an occasion to have sex or to empty his balls. But your fear disappeared when he lay his head on your chest and let you sink a hand into his dark curls, which were sticking to his sweaty face.

For a while, you stayed there, hoping he wouldn’t drift asleep. You wanted to understand what all of that meant for him. Because it genuinely meant a lot for you. You had been waiting for that. All you had to understand was if Guido had been dreaming of you to just get a piece of your ass or a piece of your heart. “Bruno’s waiting for us, Mista…” you whispered, but your body language fooled you. Your voice sounded like you wanted to get up and get to Passione’s Headquarters, but your legs wrapped around the man’s waist told another story.

“I don’t really care, if I really have to be honest.” the gunslinger mumbled, with a sleepy voice. “I’d go there to just look like a mess. I can’t possibly focus on anything else, after a good lovemaking.” oh you liked the sound of that. You giggled, that was a hilarious answer, but mostly you chuckled out of joy.

“Lovemaking, huh…” you repeated, stroking his soft, curly hair once more. “So it meant something to you.” at your words, you saw Mista’s eyes widen and his head get up from your chest. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “I… I was lowkey scared you just wanted to get a good time with my ass and let go.”

“Me? Just get a good time with your ass?” he pretended to be deeply offended and pouted, making you giggle again. You didn’t even mean to express that much joy, but you just felt your heart replenish with feelings. “Who do you think I am? I’m a gentiluomo, I’d never just use a babe like you for sex and nothing more. I’m… a responsible man and shit.” yeah, that’s just the answer a responsible man would give. But you were satisfied and happy. And amused.

“You know what, Guido… let’s just stay here and rest. Bruno can wait.” Maybe it was too early to talk about proper love, but you would have had a lot of time, to talk about it.

That is, if Bruno doesn’t kill the two of you first.