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mista is positive he has met his end.

vibrator strapped tight to his dick, leaking all over the luxurious couches of giorno’s office, mista thinks, this is it. he’ll die like this.

his arms are sore from struggling against the ropes that bind his wrists to his back. the gunslinger tries to lay on his side, but that only serves to bump his sensitive head against the rough texture of the couch. mista groans for the hundredth time this evening. the sound of scratching of pen against paper a couple of meters from him barely even hitch in their rhythm.

“gio...gh- gio! come… come on! fuck!” that earns him a thoughtful sound from halfway across the room. mista would weep in relief if his face wasn’t already covered with tears.

“it’s only been fifty minutes, guido. what’s got you so worked up?” evil. he’s absolutely fucking evil and mista is begging, drooling on his damn antique couch- before he can register the sound of footsteps coming towards him, he feels giorno’s soft hand on his cheek. this time, mista actually does weep. giorno is finally giving him attention, despite how insignificant it is to actually getting him off.

mista nuzzles his face into giorno’s palm and takes his soft, soft fingers into his mouth in hopes that it’ll suffice as a reply. it doesn’t.

giorno uses his middle and index finger to hold mista’s tongue. mista whimpers. “when you’re not being gagged, i expect an answer.” mista nods quickly, and giorno lets go.

“you. this. fuck, boss i can’t take it anymore!”

another hum. “you know what you’ve done wrong, yes?”

“yes. yes! boss, sir, i’m so- haah- sorry! fuck! i-i shouldn’t’ve killed him just please please-“

“he was an important informant, mista.” giorno is talking like how one would sooth a wounded soldier, with kindness in his voice and hand stroking gently through his hair, quite fucking shameless considering what he’s putting mista through right now.

“i-i know! i’ll be less hasty, yeah?”

giorno contemplates for a moment. “alright. i guess you’ve suffered enough, even if you’re sobbing through it like a bitch. this is a punishment, yeah? you’ll remember this lesson?”

the complete 180 in giorno’s demeanour accompanied by a harsh tug in his hair leaves mista reeling. his mind isn’t quite catching up with his mouth now. his mouth is too busy forming yeses and giornos, and pleases.

when his muddied brain finally catches up, the vibrator and cockring are gone, replaced by giorno seating himself over his cock.

mista is moaning thanks and praises, but all his attention is on the heat slowing sinking over his dick. fucking finally.

“next time i’ll prep myself in front of you, yeah?” a sexy ass smirk forms over giorno’s face. mista hates the way that not a sweat breaks while he starts to pick up speed. “get you bound and even more desperate for me.”

that sounds like hell and mista is 100% into it. he can’t seem to form a coherent sentence but giorno doesn’t seem to mind.

mista knows he can’t last long and grunts in warning before he comes in his boss. giorno doesn’t stop, one hand on his dick and chasing his own release. guido whimpers with overstimulation as giorno comes all over his bare stomach.

they catch the breaths for a minute, before giorno lifts off of him. mista watches lazily at his own come dripping out of the boy.

giorno stands, then bends over to roughly grab mista’s chin and smash their lips together.

“seriously, sweetheart. don’t fucking do that again.” despite being fucked out of his mind, mista heart still leaps at the pet name. he nods, giving his best apologetic face because that’s a warning if he’s ever heard one.

giorno smiles, soft in the only way when he doms the fuck out of mista. he kisses mista’s sweaty cheek and makes a happy noise.

“i’ll clean us up.”