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All of us, together

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It’s not often they get days like this.

That is to say, it’s not often their schedules line up enough to do things together like this. After Diavolo was defeated, Buccellati rose up to become the don of Passione with Giorno as his underboss, while the rest of them divided between ranks. They’re close enough to Buccellati to work and live with him but still so far off. Their schedules are busy, everyone having their own work to do until they’re all too tired to do anything together anymore; most of the time they have to content themselves with going out in groups of two or three, depending on the day. Everyone gets their turn, of course, but it’s oh so rare all six of them have time for this.

Just spending the evening together is so rare it almost makes Mista sad, but the times it does happen…

Well, he can’t help but appreciate them all the more.

The way Buccellati’s hips sway with an internal song as he cooks for them (just like old times, when they were still simple soldato). The way Narancia stuffs his face with it during dinner, making Fugo yell at him to mind his manners but there’s a certain affection in his look that says he doesn’t mind that much, not really. The way Abbacchio pretends to ignore them but if you pay attention you can see a fond smile whenever someone says something dumb or funny, occasionally even joining them with his own brand of dark humor. The way Giorno, usually so stoic and in control of his reactions, relaxes in a way they’ve come to know means he’s truly comfortable, happily returning affectionate gestures like hugs and small kisses whenever someone asks for them silently.

Seeing everyone like this makes Mista’s heart swell with joy and fills his stomach with the warm buzz of love. They’re all so different, with their own lifestyles and quirks, but somehow they just… fit together in a way Mista’s never felt towards anyone else, and he can’t help but think this must be fate, the way they all ended up together. Sure, their relationship wasn’t anything conventional or normal, but honestly, after all they’ve been through, nothing about them is.

Why should their relationships with one another be any different?

One by one they finish up dinner and put their plan for the night in action. Buccellati, Giorno and Fugo do the dishes, while Abbacchio, Narancia, and Mista go to their shared living room to set up the TV and VHS player, as well as pick a movie to watch. Abbacchio busies himself with the former while Narancia and Mista briefly squabble over what movie to watch, until Abbacchio tells them to shut up and that they’re going to watch the fucking Vanilla Ice movie if neither of them make a decision.

With a bit of a huff, they end up settling for Legally Blonde. It’s a fun movie to watch as a group, and honestly Reese Witherspoon’s performance makes the entire movie that much better. So when the dishes are done, the movie has been rewound (Goddammit Giorno, can you please rewind movies when you’re done with them?!), some snacks have been set on the coffee table, and all of them have found their spot on the large couch they’d bought ages ago, comfortably huddling together, all six of them, Mista can honestly say he feels satisfied. He’s squeezed between Abbacchio and Giorno, who for their part are sitting next to Buccellati and Fugo themselves, while Narancia, little asshole that he is, has draped himself over all of them like a satisfied cat, head resting in Fugo’s lap while his feet dangle over Buccellati’s legs.

It really shouldn’t be as comfortable as it is, but as Mista slings his left arm over Giorno’s shoulder, who curls into him subconsciously, and places his right hand in Abbacchio’s, who squeezes his in return, he finds he couldn’t care less.

He loves these guys, and they love him, love each other, all in their own way. They quip and laugh at the movie, feeling Giorno’s snorts and Abbacchio’s subdued chuckles next to him, with Narancia’s over-the-top roaring laughter as contrast, which matches his own. Fugo’s barely concealed huffs and Buccellati’s quiet snickers vibrate through the couch, only adding to the absolute adoration Mista feels for all of them.

Feeling affectionate, he plants a kiss on Abbacchio’s cheek, who jokingly swats him away, and in return Mista fake-pouts, whining to the rest of them that Abbacchio is being mean. The others boo Abbacchio, and with a roll of his eyes Abbacchio tells Mista he’s needy, before pulling Mista’s head towards his own and pressing their lips together.

Mista melts into the kiss, closing his eyes. He doesn’t register Giorno’s protesting pout as he pulls his arm away from the younger boy and uses his now free hand to pull Abbacchio closer. Abbacchio’s a good kisser, plump lips coated in lipstick that are sure to leave stains as their lips slide together, soft and warm and sweet.

Mista pulls away with a small gasp, suddenly feeling breathless as he opens his eyes again. Abbacchio’s lipstick is a bit smudged now, but he doesn’t have long to look at it as he’s briefly pulled in again for a second kiss. He hears Narancia whine that he also wants an ‘Abbacchio Kiss’, and with a chuckle, they pull away from one another again.

Amusement is plain to see on Abbacchio’s face as he tells Narancia to “come and get it, then”, and Mista watches with interest as Narancia does just that, sitting up and sliding completely into Abbacchio’s lap as he plants their lips together.

Giorno puts his chin on Mista’s shoulder, as he whispers into his ear; “They’re so pretty together, aren’t they?” and Mista has to agree. Nobody is paying attention to the movie anymore now, focus entirely on Abbacchio and Narancia as they kiss, the wet sounds of their tongues sliding together overpowering any and all interest that could’ve been directed towards the movie.

He’s caught a bit off guard when suddenly the warm slide of tongue is suddenly on his neck, but settles quickly with a quiet groan when he realizes it’s just Giorno, who pulls away only long enough to make eye contact. His green eyes pierce him with a focus the younger only gets when he’s planning something, before diving back down to Mista’s neck, shamelessly pulling his sweater down to get better access. There’s teeth now, gently nibbling on all the spots Giorno knows drive Mista crazy, and between that and watching Abbacchio and Narancia make out, he can feel his dick twitch with interest.

He’s not the only one, either. Buccellati is leaning on the armrest, looking casual and unaffected, unless you count the beginning tent in his pants. Mista can barely see it, what with Narancia and Abbacchio sitting in front of his vision, but it’s definitely there. Buccellati catches his stare, and a small blush grows on his face.

He’s distracted by the weight of someone else crawling on top of him, and suddenly Fugo is joining Giorno in kissing his neck, two mops of blond hair sitting in his peripheral vision, before he’s forced to close his eyes as they both hit a good spot and suck, dragging a moan out of him. Blindly, he fumbles with his hands until they find Giorno and Fugo’s heads, pulling them both closer as they lavish his neck like it’s an art piece, and he’s pretty sure he can feel Fugo’s erection poking him in the stomach as his own dick hardens in his pants.

The background noise of the movie falls away, making him open his eyes again. Buccellati is holding the remote for the VHS, and has turned it off for the time being. “I think,” he says, voice unwavering, though his heavy blush gives away his arousal now,  “I think it’s time to move this to the bedroom, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mista watches Abbacchio pull away from Narancia, who responds with a whine as the elder’s hand leaves his pants (Mista hadn’t even noticed that, when did Abbacchio…?), and he lets out his own sigh of unhappiness as Giorno and Fugo pull away from him. Buccellati is right, though. Activities like these are more suited for the bedroom, and everyone seems to agree with him as they separate one by one.

It’s a bit of stumble towards the bedroom, random kisses and touches interrupting their progress, but when they finally do make it, it’s not even a second before Narancia says; “I’m claiming Abbacchio,” and pulls their eldest onto the bed with a small ‘oomph’. Horny bastards haven’t even taken off their clothes.

Well, not that Mista can say much about that, because suddenly Buccellati pushes him down onto the bed next to Abbacchio and Narancia, the sound of Sticky Fingers opening a zipper from his crotch area reaching his ears. Buccellati looks him in the eye as he sinks down between Mista’s knees, blue gaze hungry, almost feral. “I’m gonna suck you off now, Mista.” He says, pulling Mista’s dick from his pants, and Mista can’t even form a coherent sentence before Buccellati follows through, putting his mouth on his cock. Mista can’t stop a moan from tumbling out of his mouth as Buccellati kisses him from bottom to top, damn near making out with the tip of his dick, before sinking down as far as he can go.

His velvet tongue curls around Mista’s dick, and he whines loudly, putting his hands in Buccellati’s hair. He’s trying not to push his Don further than he wants but is aching to hold him anyway. Buccellati moans around his cock as Mista pulls and claws at his scalp, struggling not to buck up into that hot, wet space that was Buccellati’s mouth.

“Hey.”

His attention is forced away from Buccellati, Giorno and Fugo now sitting next to him, gloriously naked as the day they were born. Fugo looks a bit embarrassed to be one of the only people naked, a contrast to his dick standing high and proud, whereas Giorno looks as comfortable as he would while wearing clothes. It’s a nice view, and Mista has to swallow once or twice before answering.

“Y-yeah? ‘Sup?” he forces out between Buccellati’s ministrations.

Giorno smiles when he replies, shuffling forward. “I’d really like it if you ate me out, Mista.” He says, while swinging his legs over Mista’s chest, straddling him, showcasing his wet, glistering pussy. “Would that be okay?” Giorno asks.

As if Mista had any choice but to say ‘yes’.

Hell yes.” he moans out, accentuated by a sharp suck from Buccellati. “Fuck, I’d love to.”

Giorno chuckles softly as he moves his hips forward, until his pussy is mouth-level with Mista. “Then get to it, won’t you?”

Mista doesn’t even hesitate before plunging into the hot, wet, sensitive flesh of Giorno, who lets out a choked moan at the suddenness. Mista’s raising his head, holding onto Giorno’s hips as he pulls him closer to his mouth to lick broad stripes between his labia. He gives gentle kisses to Giorno’s clit, before going back to licking, alternating between the two until Giorno’s rocking his hips into his face. Fugo is watching the three of them silently, the only indication he’s there being the soft panting as he cups his own cock. Mista delights in putting on a show for him, and moans loudly in Giorno’s cunt as he bucks his hips upwards into Buccellati’s mouth.

… Which, in hindsight, wasn’t the best idea, as only moments after Buccellati pulls off him with a gag. He wants to apologize, but he’s still tongue deep in Giorno’s vagina, enveloped by the tangy smell invading all his senses. The loss of sensation on his dick is a bit upsetting, yes, but he’ll live with it, especially when Giorno is making such cute sounds, hiccupping moans breaking free from his throat as he grinds into Mista’s mouth, chasing after his orgasm.

Mista is only a little bit surprised when his pants and underwear are completely pulled down and he feels wet, slimy fingers near his asshole, but he rolls with it as he does with everything, and bucks into the new sensation. He’s no stranger to anal, be it giving or receiving, and he honestly doesn’t have a preference. Both feel good in the right circumstances, and this is definitely the right circumstances. He’s not sure if it’s Buccellati or Fugo who’s preparing him, but he couldn’t care less about any of that right now, and he goes back to focusing his attention on Giorno’s cunt.

Suddenly Giorno tenses above him, a loud wail slipping past his lips, a surefire sign he’s about to orgasm. He bucks wildly into Mista’s mouth, loud moans and screams tearing from his throat as Mista doesn’t relent his oral stimulation, even allowing a few fingers to slip inside Giorno for extra sensation.

Nobody would’ve pegged Giorno for a screamer. Quiet and serious as he usually is, you’d assume that would carry over into the bedroom, but no. When Giorno gets close to orgasm, it’s like all his brakes turn off, every ounce of self-awareness and impulse control gone, and the most colorful words and noises that he’d otherwise never allow rip their way from his chest.

It’s beautiful to watch (or hear) in Mista’s opinion.

Within seconds, the wetness on Mista’s tongue increases tremendously, and Giorno’s hiccupping wail increases in volume, only to slowly die down in a cascade of whimpers and pleases. Mista works him through his orgasm, slowly licking his quivering cunt, until Giorno pushes himself off of his face, and sits down, leaning against the headrest while he tries to get his breathing under control.

Now that his focus from Giorno is gone, the one at his asshole- Fugo, he realizes now- demands his attention with a crook of his fingers, and Mista shudders as his prostate is just barely missed. Buccellati, it seems, has moved on to Narancia and Abbacchio. Narancia has Buccellati’s cock down his throat while Abbacchio fucks his cunt, and Mista swallows at the erotic sight, though Fugo demands his attention back before long.

“Eyes on me, Mista.” Fugo barks at him.

“Make it worth my while.” Mista shoots back, grin on his face, but he’s quickly forced into submission as Fugo twists his fingers just so, and oh yes that’s the spot. Pleasure shoots up Mista’s spine, and he wheezes out a moan at Fugo’s triumphant smirk.

Fugo looks so hot when he’s feeling confident. Not the angry, I’m-gonna-kill-you confident, but the true “you know I’m good at this and I know you know I’m good at this” confident. It’s not a look Fugo wears often, but god, when he does Mista can feel it go straight to his dick.

“Think you can take my dick, Mista?” he asks, voice sleek and seductive, and Mista whines.

Fuck yeah, you know I can.” He moans out, pushing himself into Fugo’s fingers before they pull out. He hears a condom wrapper being torn, as well as lube being squished onto what he presumes is Fugo’s dick, and he expects Fugo to just put it in, but is caught by surprise when Fugo pulls him upright.

“Come on,” Fugo breathes in his ear, and oh god his voice sounds like sex incarnate, “I want you to ride me.”

Mista whimpers as Fugo manhandles him into his lap, dick poking between Mista’s legs. His chest is pressed into Mista’s back, and they’re positioned just so they can see the threesome Narancia, Abbacchio and Buccellati have going on, as well as a flushed Giorno who’s rubbing himself at the sight of his five lovers, having gotten his second wind but unwilling to butt in with any of them.

Giorno’s eyes catch his, and with a smirk, the smug bastard makes a show of himself, throwing his head back as one hand plays with his nipples and the other pushes in and out of his spread cunt with squelching  noises.

Mista and Fugo both stutter out moans. Fugo is humping his ass, lubed up dick sliding between his buttocks and up against his balls, creating a weird but interesting feeling for Mista. He’s tempted to grab his own dick to add to the sensation, but holds off for now, not wanting to come too quickly. “Fugo,” he hisses instead, impatience clear in his voice, “get your fucking dick inside my ass.”

Fugo’s breath catches, but obliges. “Sorry,” he says, voice a little shaky, “I got… distracted.”

Mista snorts, which abruptly turns into groan as the head of Fugo’s dick forces its way past his asshole, sliding deep, deep inside of him. It’s big, and it’s weird, but familiar in a way that’s oh-so good, and Mista can’t hold back the whine that escapes him when Fugo bottoms out, as far in as he can go. They’re both panting, and Fugo’s being nice, holding still until Mista says he’s ready, but honestly Mista has been hard for what feels like the past hour and he could really, really use some stimulation right now. He pushes himself up, feeling the friction of Fugo’s dick sliding inside him, and with a grunt, he drops down again.

It all goes very quickly from there. Suddenly Fugo’s thrusting upwards, meeting Mista’s own up and down motions the best he can, and they establish a rhythm that brings equal pleasure to both parties. Fugo’s clawing at Mista’s crop-top sweater, pleasure unbearable in the best kind of way, while Mista holds tight to his own legs as he moves his body. It’s so good, Fugo’s dick hitting all the right spots inside him as he fucks him hard, and god, it’s exactly what he needs.

His eyes are closed, but they open when he feels the hot touch of another person rolling a condom down his dick. He’s met with a lapful of horny Giorno, who only quirks an eyebrow at him when their eyes meet. Mista’s too fucking aroused to think much about it as Giorno’s weight settles on him, and suddenly the three of them are moaning in tandem as Mista slides into Giorno’s wet, hot vagina.

It’s grueling to try and keep himself from coming on the spot, Fugo fucking into him and he in turn fucking into Giorno, receiving pleasure from both sides. It’s enough to make his head spin when Giorno’s lips close over his own, sloppy wet tongue meeting his as saliva leaks down both their faces. Fugo starts biting the back of Mista’s neck, sucking long and hard in certain places to leave marks that at the moment register as nothing but pure pleasure.

Giorno tightens around him, and muffles a scream in his mouth. He must’ve already been close to come so soon after he sat down on Mista’s dick, but Mista can’t blame him. He’s so fucking close to coming himself and if Fugo keeps fucking him like this while Giorno slowly relaxes on his dick-

Giorno’s weight is suddenly torn away from him, replaced by the sight of an annoyed looking Narancia, who settles himself over Mista in Giorno’s stead.

“Alright then- since grandpa piss and squad mom over there are too tired out to give me a good fuck, I want a turn on the Mista train.” He says as he sits down in Mista’s lap, who nearly chokes while laughing.

“Grandpa piss?” he manages to get out, looking over to Abbacchio and Buccellati, the former of the two sticking up his middle finger at them while cuddling up into Buccellati. Buccellati only looks at them apologetically for a moment, before wrapping his free arm around a tired looking Giorno who has crawled up to them. Abbacchio grunts at him, but slings his arm over both of them.

The sight of their boyfriends cuddling up is just a momentary distraction before Mista’s forced back into the moment by a forceful thrust from Fugo while Narancia drops down on him, engulfing him in his warm, velvety vagina. There’s nothing gentle about this anymore, the three of them bucking and grunting like animals while they chase their release. It’s even more intense than before, and Mista can feel the first echoes of his oncoming orgasm. He holds on for as long as he can, willing himself to satisfy Narancia and Fugo first. He rubs Narancia’s clit with what little coherency he has left, and the boy squeaks as he does so, pulling him in closer all the while begging for more, moaning about how good this feels; “yes, Mista, Fugo, yes-!”

Narancia tightens around him, and Mista can’t hold himself anymore. Pure, unfiltered pleasure fills all of his senses, his world narrowing down to just him and the bodies connected to him. He can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t move, all he can do is feel.

When he slowly comes back to his senses, he and Narancia are leaning against one another, deep breaths and post-orgasmic haze keeping them from moving. Fugo is curled up into Mista’s back, slowly softening dick starting to slip out of his ass. It occurs to Mista they shouldn’t let that happen, their come will spill out from the condom.

“Hey,” he grunts, “Narancia, Fugo, get up. Those condoms are gonna make a mess.”

Fugo lets out a vague noise that could be interpreted as an “okay”, while Narancia lets out an unhappy sigh.

“I’m comfortable, though.” He whines, holding tighter to both Mista and Fugo.

“Narancia, if those condoms spill on the sheets you’re doing the laundry for the rest of your life.” Abbacchio warns from the three-way cuddle pile across from them. Giorno snorts in amusement at the statement.

Narancia pouts, but gets up, his pussy and Mista’s dick separating with a wet ‘plop’. Mista, for his part, gets off of Fugo, and takes off his condom, tying it up to avoid leakage, and tosses it towards the trash bin near their bed.

He misses. Fugo gets up from the bed with a frustrated sigh to pick it up, and deposit his own condom along with Mista’s in the trash. Narancia has since moved to the post-orgasm cuddle pile, pushing his face between Giorno’s chest and arms, and with the last of his energy, Mista does the same, but chooses to cuddle into Abbacchio’s chest. Fugo, good old reliable Fugo, sits next to them, pulling the blanket up until they’re covered, before slotting himself against Narancia’s back. “You know,” he says to Mista, “your sweater is gonna fucking stink tomorrow.”

Mista shrugs from his side of the cuddle pile. “I don’t care that much, Panni.”

Fugo sputters at the nickname, drawing a chuckle out of Buccellati and Narancia, before burying his face into Narancia’s hair and mumbling something incomprehensible.

They quiet down after that, the six of them. There’s a few mumbles of ‘is everyone good.’ ‘yes yes I’m fine, what about you’ ‘I’m also fine, what about-?’ before it’s truly silent, but that’s fine. It’s good to check if everyone’s still comfortable, in Mista’s opinion.

He loves these people so much, he would move earth and heaven for them. He feels happy and safe and loved when he’s around them. Buccellati, Giorno, Narancia, Fugo, and Abbacchio are a few of the only people he could ever imagine feeling this deeply for.

“I love you guys.” He mutters quietly. It’s echoed with a small chorus of ‘love you too.’ ‘love y’all so much.’ ‘I feel the same way.’

He falls asleep to the soft breathing of his lovers, and the steady heartbeat in Abbacchio’s chest.

And he truly, truly feels like life is good.