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Guido Mista is a straight man. Okay?
He likes women, he likes big boobs and big butts. -On women, big butts on women.
Of course.
Ahem.
However, Guido Mista, as straight as he is, has no problem acting a little fruity with the boys. He’s just that comfortable with his sexuality y’know?
Mm.
Maybe not so much now?
“All this talk about girlfriends, who needs that when I got my boys?” Mista felt an arm sling itself over its shoulder as he ate his pasta.
“But can ‘your boys’ suck you off until you’re seeing stars? (First name) think about the benefits!” Narancia argues.
You scoff. “Who said the boys can’t suck they boys off? Two in one c’mon.”
Mista swallowed his pasta. “Yeah bro, I’ll suck you off.” Mista nudged his buddy in the side, just joshin’ around clearly.
“See! I know Mista got my back. You saw the way this man slurped down that pasta?” Narancia howled with laughter.
Mista laughed too, he did, but not before feeling his face slightly heat up.
“Can we stop talking about sucking each other off while I’m eating?” Abbacchio glared out of the corner of his eyes at the infamous ‘Dumb, Dumb, and Dumber’ of the Bucciarati team.
It’s never said who ‘dumber’ was out of the three.
Who truly is ‘dumber’ aside, this was the start of Mista’s dilemma.
The dilemma of ‘am I gay for my unfairly hot male best friend who jokes about giving me a blowjob’.
But this dilemma goes far beyond the blowjob joke.
“Fuck! Did no one check the weather report today?!” Mista ran under the overhang of Libeccio, absolutely soaking.
“Yes, all of us did.” You shook your head, equally shaking off your umbrella. “Actually Narancia didn’t but he just got lucky since he was with Fugo.”
What a Narancia move.
“Bastards! I was still sleeping. Why didn’t they wake me up?!” He shivered violently, teeth clattering.
“Narancia probably forgot and I wouldn’t put it past Fugo to purposely not wake you up.” You cackle.
Mista glared at you, making your eyes slightly soften.
“Here, Libeccio has heating anyways.” You lean your umbrella against the wall to slink off your jacket.
“Hey, it’s fine! I’ll get over it-“ Mista’s breath hitched when you step to throw the garment over his shoulders.
“It’s fine dude, I’m not even wet.” You shrug.
You were shorter than Mista and although masculine you still had a small stature. Smaller than Fugo but not nearly as small as Narancia. Besides, your jacket was oversized enough that it naturally slid off your shoulders.
“Tch, fine. Thanks anyways.” Mista pouts, secretly thankful for the warmth enveloping him.
“No problem!” You smile, turning to the door to let both of you in.
Mista idly tugs the jacket closer to him, inhaling the scent of the jacket. The scent of you. It was a woody smell with hints of floral. He didn’t know what you use or where you hang out that gives you that flowery smell but it was nice.
Really nice.
Fellas, is it gay to think your homie smells good?
F̶e̶l̶l̶a̶s̶ i̶s̶ i̶t̶ g̶a̶y̶ t̶o̶ f̶o̶r̶g̶e̶t̶ t̶o̶ r̶e̶t̶u̶r̶n̶ y̶o̶u̶r̶ m̶a̶l̶e̶ f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶’s̶ j̶a̶c̶k̶e̶t̶ t̶o̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ a̶n̶d̶ g̶o̶ s̶l̶e̶e̶p̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ s̶n̶i̶f̶f̶i̶n̶g̶ s̶a̶i̶d̶ j̶a̶c̶k̶e̶t̶?̶
And he constantly thinks about-
“Bitch!” Mista clutches his leg, which now has a few holes done in.
The heat from the bullets was making his head spin.
“Mista!” Number 5 cries, deeply worried for his user.
“You idiot!” Number 3 punches down at the poor Sex Pistol’s head. “Get help! There has to be somewhere around!”
Mista grits his teeth. “Na-Number thre-shit!” He exhaled harshly, trying to put pressure on the wound.
“(Fiirst Naaame)!!” Number 1 comes flying from around the corner. “I found (First Name)!”
Just in time, you flew into the alley way, panting heavily and bleeding from your side. “Mista!”
You crouched down, gently grabbing at his leg and inspecting the damage. “I’m fine! You’re hurt too, (First Name). Just get Giorno to-Ah, h-hey!”
Mista was cut off when arms wrapped around his knees and back.
You let out a pained groan as you desperately stood, sustaining your injury and the newly added weight in your aching arms. “Oi! Put me down! (First name) you’re bleeding!”
“F-…fuck off!” You began walking, albeit your legs were slightly buckling. You prayed you can make it.
“(First name)!” Number Five cries, flying around you worryingly.
“Quit crying! We should go find whoever’s nearby! Someone stay behind to look over them.” Number Two orders.
“I’ll stay behind!” Number Six salutes.
“Let’s roll out boys!” The Sex Pistols all fly in different directions, off to find any members of your team.
“(First Name)…” Mista whines lowly, looking up at you.
Sweat was rolling down your face, there were a few splatters of blood on your cheek.
Mista couldn’t tell if the adrenaline rush was going away because of the warmth from being in your embrace or if his pulse started running even faster because oh my god you were carrying him around in your strong embrace.
“Mista…just let me do this okay?” You look down, gaze hard and tense.
Mista’s eyes widen when he feels his heart stutter for a second.
He looks away. “Fine, fine…” He muttered, subconsciously leaning against your chest.
You barely walked ten feet when Giorno and Bruno ran in your direction.
“Mista! (First Name)!” Bruno calls out to you guys.
“Giorno, Mista’s leg’s fucked.” You weakly respond.
You crumple to the ground, tightening your hold on Mista. “(First name)!” Mista flails and wraps his arms around your shoulders in panic.
“Shit! Mista get off of him, I’ll treat (First Name).” The Capo and Giorno crouched near their two extremely beat up teammates.
Mista inhaled sharply, trying to slide off your lap.
He tries to slap away the heat off his face as Giorno (painfully) heals him.
So as you can see, Mista may or may not be just a little gay for his homie.
But! In Mista’s defense! His friend is so flirty! So touchy, slinging an arm around his shoulders (sometimes his waist and then Mista feels his homie’s arm so casually on his bare torso) and leans against him whenever they have their silly little movie nights and they have to squish up against each other on the couch.
Mista thought that maybe he was just touch starved. Nothing wrong with feeling a little light and giddy around your boy.
And then Mista thinks. He thinks a little more.
When he lets his brown curls free from his iconic hat he thinks about what it would feel like to have your fingers run through them.
When you lick pasta sauce off your lips he stares at your lips and wonders how it would feel pressed up against his own.
And maybe, just maybe, he feels a bit tingly down there when you joke about sucking him off, or you slap his ass (‘looking scrumptious Mista!’), or when he’s passing by the bathroom and you come out shirtless, still wet. God forbid the only thing you’re wearing is a towel around your waist.
Guido Mista…is not sure if he’s a straight man anymore.
But what is one thing we do know?
“Down bad. You’re down bad. Horrendously so.” Giorno nods, seemingly more to himself than to Mista.
“No-c’mon don’t say that!” Mista groans. “Help me out here, you’re the only one I can go to!”
Actually, there was Bruno. The mom friend. But is the first person you go to when you’re having a gay panic your mother?
Sorry but Mista isn’t going to have that talk with his mom.
“Being bisexual is a thing you know? It’s fine to find another man attractive.” Giorno, once again, shakes his head. He sighs this time.
“Noooo nonono no!” Mista rushes to sit up. “It’s not just ‘another man’. This isn’t about some guy. This guy is (First Name). My boy. Our boy. I can’t afford to be questioning my straightness over my boy!”
Giorno tilts his head, calm and unbothered. “I don’t see why this is a big deal? (First Name) likes you anyways.”
“GIORNOOO!” Mista flops back on the floor. His stupid face was stupidly heating up. “Don’t give me false hope!” He whines.
“But-“ Giorno starts before quickly sighing. “Nevermind.”
“Wait what-what? What? What Giorno??” Mista scrambled to look back up at the blonde.
“Don’t worry about it. Thing is it’s normal to have a crush on a guy, even if that guy is (First Name). What I’m trying to say is that if you tell (First Name) and somehow he doesn’t like you back you guys will still be friends.”
Mista exhaled deeply. “Okay. Yeah you’re right! We’ll still be friends. That’s all that matters.”
Even if getting rejected will hurt like a bitch. And will probably still continue hurting when he has to continue seeing you practically every day. And oh my god what if you’re uncomfortable and will stop touching him and joking around with him?
Okay enough Mista! Giorno said not to worry about it and that this is normal.
He’s normal.
“God this cannot be normal. I’m unhinged!”
You took a hold of Abbacchio’s pillow, whining into it as you kicked your legs up.
“Yes, yes you are. Can you get out of my room now?” Abbacchio looked up from his book, sat at his desk.
“No! God, you’re the only one who knows this Abba I gotta get this out!” You huff, resisting the urge to chuck the pillow at the older.
“I didn’t want to catch you eye fucking Mista in the first place. Go talk to Bruno, he’s much better at this than I am.” He rolls his eyes.
“No, what the fuck? Bruno’s like my mom dude. That’s like coming out to my mom. Who the fuck does that?” You shake your head like Abbacchio was insane for even thinking that’s an option.
“Okay fine. Tell Mista. All this pinning shit is damn annoying.”
“You ass-NO.” You didn’t hold back chucking that pillow at his face this time. “Mista is the straightest guy I’ve ever seen! You think that motherfucker’s fruity?? For me??? HOLY SHI-“ You rolled out of the flying pillow’s range.
“God! You’re all stupid.” Abbacchio leans on his desk to pinch the beige of his nose. “That stink man looks at you like a fucking piece of meat. It’s disgusting.”
You scoff. “No he doesn’t? When has he ever done that?”
Abbacchio looks at you with the look of death. The look of ‘I’ll kill you and then kill myself’. “That one time you joked about sucking him off? That one time you handed him your jacket? That one time you took your shirt off to bandage yourself because you got stabbed in the side?”
Your face was burning badly. Down badly. “OKAY-that’s enough! First of all-“
Abbacchio slams his forehead onto the desk. “-there are viable explanations for each of those! The first time he was probably doing that as a joke.”
Abbacchio starts to repeatedly slam his forehead into the desk. “The second time he was probably just thankful that I prevented him from catching a cold. The third time-“
“Hey Abba can you let Fugo-Oh! (First Name).” You and the goth look towards the door to see Mista poking his head on.
Mista blinked at the sight in front of him. You, on Abbacchio’s bed. Just casually. “Hey Mista! Fuck you Abbacchio. I’m outta here!” You gave Abbacchio the ‘up your ass’ gesture before jumping up from the bed.
“Bye Mista!” You beam at the stink man as you walk past him.
Mista smiles back at you before looking back at the goth. “So…what was that about?”
“Shut up! Damn kids.” Abbacchio gets up and shoves his way past Mista.
“Huh? Wait-I actually need something!”
“I needed this!” You huff, flopping down on the hotel bed.
Mista stands by the door, eyeing the room in shock.
Those…assholes!
Giorno definitely planned this out. Sneaky motherfucker’s trying to get him to do the whole ‘haha there’s only one bed what should we do?’ thing with you.
You get up, going to dig around in your bag for your extra clothes. You keep your burning face downward.
You don’t know if you should thank Abba or not for this. You hope Mista doesn’t opt for the couch or floor immediately.
“I’m gonna take a shower first! Make yourself comfortable.” You smile up at Mista, patting the bed for emphasis.
Without time for him to respond you get up to go to the bathroom.
Mista stands there, still trying to process what was happening.
Was he…was he really going to share the bed with you? I mean, it was big enough that it could fit both of you guys comfortably. Perhaps you thought you guys are close enough to sleep in the same bed for a night.
Fuck, how was Mista going to get any sleep tonight? With you by his side?
“Oooooooo!!” Mista looked down at his pistol to see his stands coming out, cooing at him.
“Oi! Shut up! If (First Name) hears you I’m starving you guys!” It was an empty threat. Everyone knew but he didn’t feel like letting them off the hook so easily.
“Mista, this could be the perfect time to make your move on him!” Number Seven clenches his fists in excitement.
“Yeah! Let’s room service some roses and spread them on the bed!” Number Two puffs his chest out confidently.
Mista’s face goes bright red. His mind immediately went to the mental image of you in a loose robe, laid out onto a bed with scattered roses.
He shook his head. “That’s enough! You guys aren’t involved in this!”
“Oh (First name)! Your beauty goes beyond the stars and you make my heart beat faster than the Sex Pistols!” Number Three takes a hold of Number Five, dipping him.
“Mista you rapscallion you!” Number Five giggles.
God, if even those two were banding together to make fun of Mista this is bad.
Down ba-
“What’s going on here?” Mista and the Sex Pistols look up to see you exciting out of the bathroom.
You were wearing a loose white button up and pajama shorts.
Mista felt goosebumps prickling on his skin. “No-nothing! The pistols are just hungry!” He shoots a glare at his stand.
“Oh! I can order room service for us.” You hop over to the phone, taking it off the stand to put in the number.
The Sex Pistols fly over to shout out what they wanted.
Mista stared after you, eyes softening to a mushy degree. This all felt so domestic. Sure they’re in the middle of a stressful mission but it felt more cute to think you guys were on vacation.
You guys book a hotel, you in a pretty pajama set, ordering room service and cuddling in the only bed in the room. Mista keeps a smile to himself when he imagines what you would look like if you were wearing his shirt instead.
“Mista?” Said man snaps out of his thoughts.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“I said go shower. I’m not getting in bed with you if you smell like that.” Mista’s eyes hardened into a deadpan.
Unnecessary.
“Tch, fine!” He dug into his hat to pull his extra clothes out.
You stared at him as he walked into the bathroom. You’ve known him for nearly three years at this point and you still don’t know how the hell he does that.
“So how the hell are we gonna do this?” Mista gestures to the bed.
You look up from your gameboy and back at your partner. “Uh, one person sleeps on the left side and the other takes the right side?”
Mista looks hesitant. “Oh…you sure? That’s it? Just like that?”
“Yes?” You furrow your brows at him. “Don’t wanna cuddle with your boy? Haaarsh.” You shake your head.
Inwardly you curse yourself. Damnit! There you go again. Jokingly telling your boy the romantic shit you wanna do to him.
“N-no! You just…you don’t think it’s a bit weird? For two guys to sleep in the same bed?” Mista winces out, heart racing.
“No?” You look around the room real quick. “Mista, it's just me? It’s not like we’re gonna fuck bro.” Mista’s heart leaps. “That couch over there is tiny as shit. Your ass is too tall for that and me and my scoliosis are not going to risk it all in one night.”
Your gaze softens and you slump. “If you’re really uncomfortable with it-“
“No, no! I’m worried if you’re uncomfortable with it-“
“Damnit Mista, I'm the one talking about getting in bed with you!” You throw your arms up in frustration.
Fuck!
“Wanting to what with me?” Mista backtracks.
Fuck.
“No-you know what I mean!” You huff, maturely rolling back facing Mista to curl up on yourself.
You, once again, curse yourself inwardly. Bitch! You’re such a fucking idiot.
God forbid you feel the fucking bed dip behind you. “No, (First Name) you’re being oddly…shy about this.”
You close your eyes shut, tightly. You pray for something to take you away from this god awful world. Some enemy stand can come in and take you out, at this point you don’t care. Just quick and painful.
“(First Name).” You jolt when you feel hot breath fanning at the shell of your ear.
“Mista!” You turn around, face flushing when you notice just how close he is to you.
“(First Name).” Mista leans down, and you try to move farther back into the pillows.
Seeing the cute state of you genuinely embarrassed was something pretty rare. Especially when it comes to the topic of fruits, it has Mista feeling a bit more confident than ever.
“(First Name)…you look very pretty in red.” He winks at you.
You feel your breath get knocked out of your chest. On instinct you bring your hand up, connecting it to Mista’s cheek.
Fast.
And hard.
“YOOOUCH!! WHAT THE SHIT?!!”
“BITCH. I’M SO SORRY.” You sit up, moving Mista’s hand away to check on his face.
The left side of his face was stark red against his tan skin. “Ooh fuck man! I didn’t mean to do that I swear! I panicked!”
“Who the fuck slaps someone after they’ve been told they’re pretty?! Jesus fuck (First Name)!”
You whine, your blush deepens. Out of embarrassment this time. “I’m soorry!!!” You pout.
Mista looks back at you and he eases up. “If…you want to make it up to me-“
“I swear to god if you ask for a blowjob right now-“
“No! God no! C’mon man I’m not that horny!” You raise a brow at him. “What I was going to say was that you could kiss it to make it better!” Mista shrugs.
Fuck. Okay that was stupid, it wasn’t better that you initially assumed he wanted…that.
You practically scoff out a laugh, rolling your eyes as you lean in. You gently press your lips upon Mista’s increasingly red cheek.
When you pull back Mista looks at you with wide eyes. “…holy shit I didn’t think that’d work.”
You tilt your head. “Me kissing you or-“
“No the fact that it feels better. Or maybe the pain wore off-“
“Wanna test that out?” You raise your hand threateningly.
“Eep! No sir no!” Mista flinches back.
You laugh, bringing your hand back down on Mista’s head of curls. “Kidding, I was kidding.”
Mista looks up at you, almost bashfully. The 1-2 switcharoo from fuckboy Mista to shy Mista made you want to squeal into a pillow. (And kick your legs up. Maybe Abba’s there to yell at you to get out of his room again.)
“W-wait, so do you like…like me? Like, like-like?”
“Jeez, what are we in middle school? What do you think?” You roll your eyes, fingers mindlessly tangling themselves into Mista’s curls.
“Sorry, no girl in middle school has ever told me she liked me by slapping me in the face.”
“Alright buddy-“ You attempted to bring your hand back when Mista snatched them between his own hands.
“I was joking!” Mista brings your joined hands to his chest, bringing your torso closer to his in the process. “(First Name) I really like you. In a more than friends, more than homies kind of way. Are you…alright with that?” He grimaced.
You smile fondly at the idiot. “Mista, I’m actually surprised you haven’t noticed. Abba always says I’m eye fucking you dude. Speaking of which he also says you look at me like a piece of meat-“
“Okay let me backtrack for a sec what’s that about eye fucking me?” Mista blinks in disbelief.
“Dude, have you seen yourself?” You move your hands away from his own to cup his face. “You’re the most beautiful man on this planet! Actually scratch that. David Bowie from the Labyrinth takes that title. You’re a very close second though!”
Mista sighs. “I’m sorry I can’t be him...” Soon after he snaps straight up. “Wait. You…you find me attractive?”
You lean back, looking at him, absolutely gobsmacked. “What the fuck Mista? You wear a crop top and half the damn time you have a gun shoved down your pelvic area. And you’re asking me ‘YoU fInD mE aTtRaCtIvE’? What is this shit?”
“Well I don’t know-have you looked in the mirror? You’re the cutest guy-wait no. Person-you’re the cutest person in the fucking universe!” You blink, shocked by how confident Mista is in this statement.
“You know how stressful it is for you to slap my ass and feel like I had to hold myself back from enjoying it? Also please stop ordering pasta every damn time we go to Libeccio’s because you lick your fucking lips a lot and it drives me mad (First Name).”
You feel your face heat to concerning levels as Mista blabs on and on. “Oh and don’t even get me started on the bj jokes-“
Okay! That’s enough!
You grab Mista’s face to shove your lips onto his.
Mista let out a muffled sound of surprise but he recovered quickly. He wraps his arms around your waist, pushing you up into his lap.
You gasp into his mouth, giving Mista the perfect opportunity to shove his tongue up against yours. You clench the front of Mista’s shirt, whimpering.
When Mista presses you tighter against his body you cheekily start to grind your hips down on him.
Pulling away, Mista bites back a groan. “Shit-(First Name)…you feel even better than I imagined.”
You push Mista flat onto the bed, adjusting yourself to straddle him properly. “Mista…at first I was like ‘I’ll suck you off’ as a joke but bro…I don’t think it’s a joke anymore.”
You press your lips tightly together to hold back the laughter threatening to release from your body.
Mista exhales deeply, closing his eyes. “(First Name).” He grabs a hold of your hips and bucks his hips up.
You gasp, desperately clinging onto Mista’s chest. “Are we going to fuck or not?”
“They totally fucked.” Narancia states to the table at breakfast when you and Mista come down from your room.
Mista was guiding you with a hand on your lower back and you were holding onto his belt from behind. You were not hiding your sore bottom very well.
“Took them long enough.” Fugo rolls his eyes, sipping at his tea.
“For real. Now Mista doesn’t have to whine about his gay revelations anymore.” Giorno sighs in relief.
“Tell me about it.” Abbacchio shakes his head.
Bruno smiles. “I can’t wait to say I was the one who booked them that room at the wedding reception.”
And so, kiss the homies goodnight, because they might obliterate your ass in return.