@nevaliciouss - Tumblr Blog

Jan 11

Knee Socks

"never stopped you lettin' me get hold of the sweet spot by the scruff of your knee socks."

maybe your crush on your best friend isn’t as one sided as you once thought it to be.

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, piv, unprotected sex, oral m&f receiving, heavy petting, lots of groping, fingering, two second handjob, mista is an ass man if you squint, creampies, thigh fucking, light spanking, dom mista if you squint again, lowkey pervy mista in the beginning

TRIGGER WARNINGS : both the reader and mista are stoned bc baked sex is so hot to me im sorry, brief part where mista watches reader change when she said to look away, and i can't think of anything else but as always if i missed something, please let me know!

what's playing 🎧 : knee socks by the arctic monkeys

pairing : guido mista x reader

word count : 9k

*takes place 5 years after the events of part 5, brief mentions of giorno, my small child whom i love, but no spoilers for the part itself.*

a/n : hiii guys! im back and so is my jojos fixation #teehee i hope you enjoy! if you do lmk in the comments :)

your eyes immediately snap towards your window, swallowing thickly as the sound of something scaling the side of your house is seemingly getting louder – sounds like it's getting closer. your fingers halt their typing, fingertips ghosting over your keyboard, frozen with dread.

you abandon your laptop, rolling to the side of your bed to fish out a small pistol from your nightstand. mista had gifted it to you for protection, making you swear to not bow out and take some pretentious high road and to actually use it if you needed it.

you didn’t think anything would prompt you to ever have to put it to use, but here you are, on your knees, holding the cold gun the way mista taught you.

a hand appears, curling over your window seal and you swallow a gasp, trying to remain calm, your finger readying itself over the trigger.

your eyes narrow in on the person attempting to break in, and you lean forward, bracing yourself for what you might have to do.

a head begins to crown through the opening of your window, your thumb slides over the safety, removing it before you forget.

“hey, are you still – holy shit,” mista exclaims, eyes wide when they land on the gun you’re pointing directly at him, nearly slipping off of the window sill and falling off the side of your house.

you growl with a deep sense of frustration, dropping the gun in your lap, your face falling into your palms with irritation.

the rise and fall from the adrenaline caused by the fear of someone breaking in to do, god knows what to you is seriously pissing you off when you realize it was all for nothing. you take in a couple deep breaths, trying to steady your heartrate, not bothering to assist mista into your room.

“i thought i told you only to use that for emergencies?” he has the audacity to be annoyed with you right now. unbelievable. his voice is somewhat breathless once he tumbles into your room, huffing when he stands up and makes his way over to you.

you don’t bother standing up yet, still resting on your knees when your hands slowly slide off of your face, directing your irritated stare towards mista.

“you asshole, you nearly gave me a heart attack, i-i could’ve shot you, ugh mista you just don’t think!” you huff, and he sighs, taking your lecturing in stride, knowing he deserves it. he helps you onto your feet, pulling you up while he lets you continue ripping him a new one.

“you better have hoped you didn’t wake my dad up, if he sees you in here he’ll kill you and me,” you grumble, clearing off the dust from your legs, folding your arms over your chest like you always do when you’re mad.

mista just stares down at you, not annoyed, not upset, just quietly peering at you with a fond glint in his eyes.

it makes you soften, enabling your arms to loosen the tight defensive barrier between you and him from over your chest, a small exhale leaving your lips, like a wordless release of your initial anger.

“speaking of which, why are you here?” you ask, your tone calmer this time, avoiding his stare.

“i’m sorry i dropped by unannounced and for almost giving you a heart attack,” he says like a guilty child, pulling you in for a hug. he feels your folded forearms against his sternum and he chuckles softly, rubbing your back lovingly despite your lack of reciprocation.

“don’t stay mad at me,” he whines, pulling apart with his arms still around your waist, gently wriggling you around playfully, trying to convince you to forgive him.

“i just missed you and wanted to surprise you, is that such a crime?” you can’t stay too mad at him, your arms fully dropping to push at his chest weakly, no intentions of truly pushing him away are behind your ministrations. “no,” you grumble, trying to force down the smile curling in the corner of your lips.

“but calling me beforehand wouldn’t have been a crime either, you know?” he laughs, knowing he wore you down and peeled off your little layers of annoyance.

“i know but that takes away from the surprise element,” before you can respond, your hearing hones in on the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs.

your heart sinks and you turn towards mista, who looks equally if not more terrified. you race to usher him into your closet, the both of you internally panicking.

“be quiet.” you whisper, hurriedly pushing your clothes in front of him, making sure he isn’t visible before you fling yourself back into your bed, pretending to type on your laptop again while you struggle to even out your breathing. your door swings open and you jump, turning towards your dad, looking at him with a feigned sense of confusion.

“hey dad,” you greet, trying your best to not sound breathless. “someone in here?” he asks, already suspicious and angry because of it.

“uh. besides me and you, no…” you say with a laugh, and mista closes his eyes, his mind drifting back to all the fights and battles he’s ever gotten into with stand users, offhandedly wondering if dying at the hands of any one of them would have been a better fate than getting caught by your dad.

“so if i looked under your bed right now i won’t find that mista boy i told you to stay away from?” if your heart didn’t sink earlier, it was completely sunken and gone now.

“no you won’t… dad i’ve just been trying to do my homework, no one’s in here i promise!” your dad ignores you, pushing up your duvet and bending down to look under your bed. he grumbles, having been proven wrong. he halts the breath of relief in mista’s throat when his eyes flick towards your closet.

“i was your age once, you think i won’t check the closet either?” that’s it. you both are dead. “dad please–” he barks an order for you to be quiet, and you have no choice but to listen. before your dad can push apart your clothes to reveal mista, your doorbell rings downstairs, and he pauses, growling quietly under his breath.

he shoots you a knowing glare, stalking out your door. “i’ll be right back.” he promises, shutting your door behind him before going downstairs to check who’s at the door.

mista exhales a hefty breath of relief, his head falling back against your wall as his hand clamps over his chest, trying to soothe the pound hammering against his ribs. he sent one of his sex pistols out, ordering it to exit through your window and press the doorbell before your dad could find him.

“good job number 5,” he mouths appreciatively when it returns to him, guiding it back into his revolver before you return to your closet to retrieve him.

“we got incredibly lucky holy shit,” you laugh breathlessly, helping him out of your closet. “but you need to go now, he’ll come back and still check for you.” you say, pushing him back towards your window.

“but i still wanna see you,” he whisper-yells back, wavering at your window. “and i want both of us to live, mista, please – oh god he’s coming back okay, shit, get under the bed.” he immediately drops down and slides under your bed while the sound of footsteps and overall sense of impending doom grows closer towards your bedroom

you sit at the side of your bed, your legs dangling where mista would be. your dad returns, seemingly annoyed. “who was it?” you ask, trying to seem genuinely curious. he glares at you, walking towards your closet.

“no one. which was real convenient for you.” he mutters, jabbing his hand through your clothes and pushing them to the side, expecting mista. his shoulders loosen from their tense position when he sees nothing but shoes at the bottom of your closet.

he shuts his eyes, sighing to himself, turning on his heel back towards you. he looks at you apologetically, shuffling over to you tiredly. he bends down, kissing your head with a quiet apology falling against your hairline. “m’goin’ back to bed. don’t stay up too late.” is all he says, gently closing the door behind him.

you fall back on your bed, sliding your hands over your face while a deep breath falls from your lips. mista slides out from under your bed, causing your mattress to dip when he lays beside you, his cheek against your duvet and his eyes on you, not saying anything yet.

“were you actually doing homework?” he whispers after a few silent seconds, glancing at your laptop. your hands fall from your face and you lull your head towards him, glaring at him.

but he knows it isn’t a real one, it's the one that usually makes him laugh because he knows there’s no real anger behind it.

“yes, i was actually.” you huff playfully, turning towards it and shutting it closed. “but i guess finishing it is out of the question for tonight.”

he smiles, his large hand coming up to rest on your ribs, his free hand supporting the weight of his head, his eyes a downward cast towards you. “yeah, i agree.” he nods, drumming his fingers against your ribs.

the closeness and the simple fact that his hand almost covers the entirety of your ribcage makes your heart thud and brings forth a flood of warmth in your cheeks. you do your best to hide it, to ignore it even.

you refuse to be an addition to the stereotype of girl and guy best friends developing feelings for each other.

in reality it’s a little too late for that, but you tell yourself as long as you don’t act on it, it isn’t real. you’ve also convinced yourself it’s one sided anyway, and that there isn’t a need to bring attention to these feelings because of it. but when mista does things like this, it makes you wonder.

“did you really come over just to bother me?” you ask, peering up at him with a small smile on your lips.

he shifts around, his hand drifts away from your ribs and flattens out beside your head, his other hand doing the same. his face grows slightly closer to yours, not too close to make things ‘weird’ but close enough that it causes your heart to pick up all over again.

“you like when i bother you,” he murmurs, keeping his voice hushed so as to not prompt your dad to burst in again, completely unaware of how his proximity and the low tone in his voice is affecting you.

you laugh with a softness that makes mista melt, and and yearn to prolong the sound for longer.

“but, i was going to ask if you wanted to drive around with me. we could go to the beach, smoke a joint, and i’ll take you right back home in one piece, cross my heart.” he hums, dragging his index finger over your chest, making a small X and leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his gentle touch.

the offer seems tempting, and you know you’re going to say yes, mista knows that you’re going to say yes. but you still like to give him a hard time anyway.

“don’t you have gangster stuff to do? like i dunno, hanging some guy off of a balcony by his ankles or whatever it is you do now?” he scoff-laughs, his thick brow flitting up while he stares down at you.

“already did that, s’why i showed up here later than i meant to,” you laugh at his response, a smile spreading over his face at the sound of it. “put your shoes on.” he instructs, lingering above you for a moment, his eyes dancing down your face until he sits back up, sliding off of your bed.

you exhale with a disingenuous annoyance, a smile on your face the whole time, lazily tugging up your knee sock from slipping down your shin, oblivious to what it does to mista. he watches you pad back over to your closet, bending down and picking up a pair of shoes.

his eyes widen when he realizes you’re going to keep your shorts and knee socks on, and he fears his second head will be acting on its own against his will if you stay dressed like that.

“you uh, don’t wanna change?” he asks, voice sounding slightly gruffer than usual, and you turn towards him, eyebrow flicking up. a pang of insecurity hits you but you play it off, your hands on your hips as you eye him suspiciously.

“why, do i look bad?” you question, voice stern but inwardly you feel small, embarrassed and praying that he washes your fear away.

a look of panic drains the color in his face and he shakes his head, walking towards you. “no stupid, i didn’t say that,” he laughs softly, adjusting the strap of your tank top, tilting his head to the side, pretending he doesn’t notice that his fingers are brushing against your bra strap.

“i’m just saying, won’t you get cold?” his eyes flicker down your bare chest and down the little striped pajama shorts you’ve got on.

your knee socks cover more than the shorts themselves, and mista is far from complaining, but as cliche as it sounds, he does not want to deal with wandering eyes roving over you that aren’t his.

you glance down at your pajamas, immediate heat plucking at your cheeks upon realizing that he’s right, and that you may have overreacted. “yeah, you’re right. okay, turn around, i’m gonna change.”

he rolls his eyes humorously at the way you spin your little finger, obliging you by laying stomach down on your bed, his eyes directed back at the window.

he looks around your room, humming under his breath, the air taking a pregnant pause in the middle of his throat when his eyes land on the reflection of your window.

the draft pulled the window closer to the sill, and at the right angle, mista can see you. all of you.

he knows he should look away, you’re his best friend, you trust him enough to let him into your room, to crash with you when he doesn’t know where else to go, and he’s betraying all of that because he doesn’t have enough self control to look away while you change.

he feels like the world’s biggest asshole, but the guilt isn’t enough to make him turn away either.

he watches you shimmy out of your little pajama shorts, tossing it onto the bed beside him. his hand twitches to grab it, to press his face into the crotch and hump your bed, but he doesn’t.

he wants to, really wants to, but he’ll just have to wait until he goes home later tonight to fuck his fist with the image of you burned across his corneas.

you pad over to your closet, picking out a pair of denim shorts, they’re longer than your pajama bottoms, but they also happen to be the same pair that hugs your ass just right and makes mista feel downright stupid when he’s around you.

he watches you through the reflection in the window as you slide them on, wriggling your hips in a soft circle, trying to pull them up and over your ass and oh my god, mista could cum right now in your bed.

he shifts his hips around faintly, clenching his jaw when your soft mattress caresses his clothed cock, a silent exhale leaving past his parted lips.

you keep the tank top on, unhooking your bra and letting the straps fall down your arms, pulling it from under the fabric.

your nipples pebble from the cool air in your room, and mista wants nothing more than to cup your breasts and swirl his tongue around your little pert nipples.

you pluck one of the sweaters off a hanger, specifically one mista lent to you that you swear you keep forgetting to return back. however, he won’t press you about it, he quite enjoys seeing you in his clothes.

or on second thought, maybe he will. maybe he’ll have you take it off when you’re in his car and slyly turn on the ac just to see your nipples push up against your flimsy little tank–

“okay i’m ready, you can look now.” you announce quietly, still trying to keep it a secret from your dad that mista is in your room. he pauses for a second, not exactly keen on turning around just yet and letting you see his hard-on.

“took you long enough,” he fake-yawns, rolling onto his side, raising his thigh slightly to block your view of his bulge.

“do you wanna make a fake you to put under your blankets just in case he checks on you tonight?” he asks, trying to stall until his cock starts to soften.

you hum, weighing your options. “eh, once he’s out, he’s out. he has work early in the morning so i doubt he’ll come by my room again. but just to be safe i’ll make one,” you turn back over to your closet, and mista quickly stands up, treading towards your window and standing by it, trying his best to seem inconspicuous while he lets the cold air hit his bulge, praying the coldness does its job.

slowly but surely, he feels it go down, and by the time he turns back to face you, he’s seeing double, prompting a small laugh out of him.

“ta-da, whaddya think?” you crouch beside the makeshift you created with a bunch of your clothes, smiling beside it. “spitting image,” he jokes, motioning for you to come back over to the window. “lets go,”

___

your cheek rests on your folded forearms, wind rippling past your face with mista behind the wheel. you watch the blur of the city zip past you in a stream of warm lights, unaware to the magnetic pull you have on mista, his eyes continually flickering from the road, back over to you as if he can’t control it. even if he could, he’d never stop looking at you.

he grips one hand onto the steering wheel, his other straying off to gently trace the exposed skin of the small of your back. you giggle, turning back over at him to playfully swat away his hand. he laughs, tugging your tank top back down along with your (his) sweater, covering you up.

you lean back into the seat, the scent of salt air from the beach growing stronger, filling the spaces amidst the cool wind.

“can you get the joint? it’s in the center console,” he nods down at it, motioning for you to open it while he parks. you pull it out, whistling lowly, seemingly impressed.

“you’re getting better,” you say, a hint of something like patronizing ghosting through your tone, your eyes flitting towards him expectantly, knowing you’re prompting immediate defensiveness out of him.

“i was never bad to begin with,” he nearly whines, glaring at the parking space before him, pretending its you. you all but cackle, pulling out the lighter and tucking it into your pocket.

“mista the last one you rolled was so limp that there were pockets of air in the joint,” you remind him, not even trying to hide how amused you are by his frustration.

“okay you know that wasn’t my fault!” he begins, his voice curling off the pointed edge of defense, shutting the car off and unbuckling himself, slamming the door shut once he’s out.

“we split an edible and you made me roll when i was already high, that’s not fair, it shouldn’t be a testament on whether or not my rolling abilities are good.” he rattles off, locking the car while you guys start your descent down to the beach. you just watch him, smiling to yourself.

he’s such an idiot.

you two find a nice secluded spot, plopping down into the sand with two soft grunts. “help me light it, the breeze is too strong, it’ll snuff out the flame.” you lean into mista, your foreheads a breadth away from touching.

he swallows hard, taking the lighter from your fingers, flicking it on while your hands curl on either side of the joint, shielding it away from the cold air as much as possible. your lips keep the joint pointed towards the flame, holding it in place as mista struggles to keep the fire lit.

you inch in closer, eyes pointed at the joint while mista’s are on you. your lashes look so pretty like this, angled down with complete focus. the flickering flame illuminates your skin, making him feel like he’s collected a beam from the sun within his palms.

you look up at him from under those long lashes of yours, plump lips forming a little smile around the joint as you take an inch backward, puffing and exhaling a fan of smoke gently across mista’s face.

he leans forward, taking in the inch you pulled away from, inhaling your smoke. “good?” he asks with the same thick airiness as the cloud of smoke.

you nod, a soft hum rumbling from the base of your throat, handing him the joint. you two pass it back and forth, your head on his shoulder, and his head laying atop yours, your shared gazed directed at the glittering water glowing from the moon’s pale grace.

“giorno doesn’t get pissed at you for the weed?” you ask, your voice falling into a lazy river of relaxation. mista gently shrugs, making sure to not shake you off his shoulder, taking a deep hit.

“nah. his whole thing is targeting lowlifes who sell heroin to kids n’ shit like that. he won’t get mad at a 23 year old for buying recreational weed,” he chuckles, lowering his hand down to you lips, holding the joint for you.

your eyes drag up slowly from the hypnotic gaze you were sharing with the ocean, pointing it at mista, squinting appreciatively as you wrap your lips around the filter, taking a puff.

“he’s a cool kid,” you comment absentmindedly, your body thrumming with a warm vibration, haziness rolling through your veins.

“he’s 20 now, not a kid anymore,” he responds through a tired grunt, laying his back flat against the sand, pulling you down with him. you don’t fight against it, you happily lay beside him, shifting around until your head finds the safe comfort of his shoulder, humming contently.

“i know, but i still see him as that new kid when you first introduced us. always so sweet and quiet,” you mumble, lifting your hand up, spreading your fingers and letting the moon peek through to greet you.

mista does the same, lacing your fingers adjacently but never fully curling them together.

“me too,” he replies softly, his breath as soft as the sound of the waves blanketing on top of each other over and over.

“thank you for seeing me…by the way.” you say suddenly, your hand dropping, extending your arm over mista’s torso, resting it there with your cheek just under his collarbone. his arm drapes over your shoulder, holding you close, tucking you into him with his chin over your head.

“you don’t have to thank me for that.” he murmurs, softness embedded in each word.

“no i just…i know you’re busy and stuff and i’ve just been losing my mind in lectures lately because my professors talk at like – a million miles per hour and i… always think about you and miss you and i dunno, tonight felt like you’d finally read my mind and swooped me up.” you admit with a twinge of honest drowsiness, the kind that only comes forth when you’re baked like this.

he rubs your arm, squeezing you and inadvertently causing your head to rise from his chest expanding with the deep breath he takes.

“i think about you a lot too. i meant it earlier, when i said i missed you. i’m sorry i haven’t come by to see you in awhile, there’s just always something i’ve gotta take care of, but i’ll try to make time for you more often, okay?” he promises through a warm embrace, a rinse of regret combing through his words, and you can tell he sincerely feels bad for not being able to see you as frequently as he used to.

you pause for a second, letting his gentle oath soak through your skin along with the cold beachy air, and the overall secluded pocket of time set aside for you both in this moment, wanting to enjoy this feeling for as long as possible.

“i know you’re busy, it’s okay,” you murmur, a little rasp in your voice and a little extra heft in your eyelids, narrowing your view while you lift up mista’s wrist, looking at his hand. you never noticed how pretty his hands are until now.

“just try and call me up whenever you have the time,” you request with a small hum, your fingers tracing mista’s longer ones, analyzing each crinkle and indent and knuckle, along with all the past scars he’s accumulated over the years. he wiggles his fingers in your hold, chuckling at the way you giggle because of it.

“yeah, i can do that.” he responds from the cusp of a deep exhale, smiling down at you.

“s’getting cold, wanna head back to my car?” he offers hushedly. you nod, groaning as he pulls you up to your feet, leading you back to the car.

___

your hands rest atop the middle of your stomach, your body melding into the passenger seat of mista’s car, all the way reclined. mista mirrors your very position, the only outlier being with his elbow resting on the car door and his fist supporting his forehead, the other hanging off the back of your seat.

your head sleepily droops to the side, your eyes starting from the crown of his head, trickling down like droplets of a babbling brook off his closed eyes, down the slope of his strong nose, over the curve of his lips, the sharp curve of his jaw, his chin, his pretty neck, down his broad shoulders and toned midriff.

he is so beautiful that it causes you genuine pain having to restrain yourself from jumping his bones.

his eyes open, his head turning back at you, and it’s too late to look away, so you don’t, suffering through the heat that comes with being caught staring, smiling upside down at his knowing, smug lazy grin. you turn back towards the dash, your head gently thudding against the headrest.

“what?” he asks under a low breath, nudging your shoulder with his bicep. “nothin.’” you shrug, yawning silently. “tell me,” he pushes, shifting in his seat, fully facing you.

you glance back over at him, the direct view pulls a response from your body before your mind can scramble for one. your thighs close tight at the vision of him laying on his side, his physique is so alluring you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

you follow his actions, switching on your side to look at him straight on, accidentally erasing a couple breaths of space between you two. neither of you mind it either way.

“just thinking about how if our old classmates saw the way we hang out sometimes, we’d just make them think we’re dating even more than they already do,” you joke lightly, your cheek resting on your knuckles, nervously watching to see how mista reacts.

he doesn’t, just laughs and shrugs. “and how do we hang out?” he asks, his eyebrow raising slightly when he catches a little waver in your body. “no i just… i don’t know, they’ve kinda always said we looked and acted like a couple, and sometimes we do,” you chuckle, feeling small and sheepish, finding yourself dipping into unfamiliar waters with no way of swimming back to shore after already going in.

“is that bad?” he prods a little further, joining you in these waters, testing to see how you respond.

you nearly choke on a nervous laugh, caught off guard, your weed addled brain struggling to aid you with ideas on how to save face and put on a normal front, but every draw is a blank one.

“n-no no, i mean, no, but like… we aren’t you know, i mean, obviously you know, that’s needless to say, it's just, funny because of how untrue it is, it’s unrealistic.” oh god, you have no idea what that display was.

mista is unwavering, scooting a little closer now, a soft breath fanning out from his full lips, his gaze dragging up your face after lingering on your mouth for a few seconds longer than normal.

“and why’s it so unrealistic?” he asks, his heavy question resting on an air thicker than a whisper, and your body immediately freezes, unsure as to whether or not he’s fucking with you.

your heartbeat is ringing in your ears and you almost wish you didn’t smoke so that you weren’t so terrible at hiding your real time reactions. “because you’re my best friend,” is all you can muster as a response, hating how meek you’re coming off.

he takes in a slow breath, nodding as slow as his intake of air, his gaze lying upon you contemplatively. tingles erupt where his eyes drag over you, feeling antsy under his stare.

his hand reaches out, cupping your cheek, this thumb drawing over the warm apple of your cheek, swiping gently over your cupid's bow and ducking down over your bottom lip, dragging across it.

he leans in, holding your face close as he finally kisses you. your eyes widen from the shock but quickly flutter shut, moaning with a sense of release when you follow the flow of his lips, melting into him completely.

you crawl over the center console, keeping your lips connected until you’re straddling him, pulling part for a breath before you crash back down into his mouth. he grabs your hips, rocking you over the growing bulge between his hips, groaning against your lips. “fuck,” he pants on your tongue, leaning up to kiss you hard.

you grind down onto him, a low whimper rumbling from the base of your throat and falling into his. your kiss sounds as wet as you feel, it’s starved and debauched, hands traveling everywhere that only your eyes have previously been.

your hands cup his face, keeping him close like he’s a rich cabernet you can’t stop drinking from.

his cold hands make you twitch in his lap, but he keeps you grounded with absolutely no intentions of letting you go. his fingers sneak under the sweater and tank top, squeezing your breasts.

his thumbs swirl over your nipples, his cock throbbing at the way you feel in his palms and at how responsive you are. you’re arching into his touch, breaking from his lips to peer down and watch him touch you.

he lifts up your top, pulling you in and taking one in his mouth, groaning over your warm flesh. you gasp softly, your breath shakily fanning out, rolling your hips against him as your poor clit aches from the touches.

“you’re so pretty,” he exhales, looking up at you from under his lashes, his hands massaging your breasts, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“n’ you smell so good,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to flick over your nipple. you whimper, burning from the inside out, unable to handle his touching and praise all at once, you might just explode.

you lean forward, shifting your hips back and snaking your hand between your bodies, cupping his cock. his mouth stutters on your breast, teeth nearly sinking into your pert nipple, eyes flickering up into yours with an excited and shocked glint.

you palm him, his moans falling over your tits, nearly whimpering when you unbuckle his pants, reaching just over his boxers, groping his clothed cock.

“can i take it out?” you whisper, bitten lips brushing against his forehead. he groans, lulling his head back against the headrest, looking at you like you’re unreal.

“yeah,” he breathes out, nodding with a thick swallow. you pull him out his boxers, your gaze stretching wide from astonishment at how big he is. you never imagined mista to be small, but shit, you didn’t think he’d be girthy like this.

“push the seat back,” you say softly, watching as he scrambles to obey. he leans down, pulling the lever under the driver seat, and you don’t bother to move away to give him space, keeping your faces close while he listens to your instruction, your noses grazing before he sits back up, watching your every move. you slide off his lap, resting on your knees,

your back almost bumping into the wheel. with no hesitation, you go down on him, lowering your mouth over his cock.

he gasps, his head falling back, lips parted with shaky moans. “oh shit,” he groans, his hand coming down behind your head. he doesn’t push, he lets you do whatever you want at whatever pace you want, he just needs to touch you.

your lips suction over him, bobbing your head up and down at a slow, leisurely pace, wanting to memorize the heavy feeling of him on your tongue, how there’s a slight burn in the corners of your lips from how you have to accommodate his size, but you don’t mind, all it does is make your clit throb more.

you jerk off what you can’t take, and he twitches, trying hard to not let his hips buck into your mouth.

he forces his eyes open, rolling his head down weakly, watching you through hazy eyes, seeing how beautiful you look with his cock down your throat, using both hands to jerk him off.

his hand cups your jaw, running his thumb along your bottom lip, feeling how wide you have to open your mouth to take him, the concept alone making his cock twitch on your tongue.

he reaches down, pinching your nipple, groaning when you suck his tip, swirling your tongue over his frenulum. you read somewhere how it was like a male g-spot on a penis, and figured now’s as best as any time to test that theory out.

he keens, sucking in a harsh breath, the muscles in his thighs tightening along with his hands clamping over your wrists. looks like the theory is true.

“fuck,” he chokes out, his head tossing and turning while you focus on that sensitive area of his, your hands rhythmically rolling up and down his shaft.

“fuck — fuck, c’mere.” he pulls you up and tugs you into his lap, grabbing you by the back of your head, dragging you down to kiss you hard.

you jerk him off, struggling to keep up with the intensity in the way he kisses you, feeling how bad he needs you. he grips your wrist, pulling back to take in a breath, looking up at you hungrily.

“bend over the center console.” he exhales, his pupils blown and lips bitten. you shakily obey, somehow still feeling nervous despite his cock having been down your throat two seconds ago.

and now the attention is all on you, and your shyness creeps back in because of it. but mista isn’t having any of it. he guides you over the console, watching as you set your forearms over the armrest, your cheek resting over them and your eyes peeking at him from behind your shoulder.

his hand comes down, slapping your ass and groaning to himself when he sees the way it recoils, groping the swatted flesh immediately. you gasp, whimpering at the impact, but he doesn’t let you shy away from it.

“these fucking shorts,” he grunts to himself, playing with the hem of it around your legs. he cups your pussy, rubbing you over the denim, right up against where the seam is, using it as extra friction for your clit.

your eyes squeeze shut and you whine softly, arching into his touch. he rubs you just right, sitting on his haunches, tall above you as you try grinding your pussy onto his fingers like a desperate little thing, prompting his other hand to palm himself and satiate the ache you bring him.

his eyes fall to your knee socks, how they grip your flesh and how perfect you look, face down ass up with your shorts barely concealing you, and with the way your socks hug your flesh – you’re like a dream come true. he tugs down your shorts, chuckling to himself when he sees your panties, squeezing his cock at the sight.

“you’re fucking soaked. you always get wet like this for your friends?” he asks, teasing you with a hint of something mean lacing through his tone, as if he’s lightly chastising you for trying to write off what you two have as just friendship.

you shake your head, whimpering a pathetic ‘no’. he smacks your ass again, rubbing over the abused flesh, gripping you still to prevent you from moving away.

he pulls at your sock, letting it snap back into place, sighing deeply at the sight of your full thighs, squeezing them adoringly. he bends down, tugging at your hips to bring you closer, enjoying how you seem to let him manhandle you as he pleases.

he pushes your panties to the side and dives in, his hot mouth latching over your cunt. you cry out, faltering down and sinking your teeth into your forearms, moaning into your flesh.

his tongue drags up and down, groaning against you, finally having your pretty pussy on his tongue after fantasizing about it for years. his tongue laps up your clit, his fingers gliding up your soaked folds before pushing into your tight hole, curling them just right.

your thighs tremble, struggling to stay upright as he eats you out, devouring you with no mercy or signs of stopping anytime soon, rendering you to take everything he gives you.

he buries his face in your cunt, groping your ass with his free hand, the other fucking your fluttering hole. tears trickle down your cheeks, sobbing out his name and trying your best to not push up against his face greedily.

“taste s’fuckin’ good,” he slurs, your cunt feeding his heavy appetite. his face swivels side to side slowly, his tongue hot and heavy over you, his groans of satisfaction vibrating through your soaked pussy.

he withdraws his fingers, lapping at your hole, curling up into it. he drags back down to your clit while his fingers push into you once more, flicking his wrist and fucking you on his digits. his free hand can’t stop the assault on your ass, addicted to touching you and feeling what his gaze has only ever imagined.

he swats his handprint into your thick flesh, loving how you cry out from it but take it regardless.

he’s panting between your thighs, feeling high off your cunt, pulling back an inch to look at you all laid out for him.

your face drawn together in a blissed-out curl, your ass in the air and available just for him, and best of all your weeping pussy bare and exposed with your cute damp panties shoved to the side.

he leans down, nipping and kissing at your inner thighs, gently biting and laughing when you gasp. he laps at you once more, resuming as if he never stopped. his arms hook under your thighs, his hands curling back over your ass, keeping you nice and still for him as he feasts on you.

you can’t help yourself, losing yourself on mista’s tongue, the center of your stomach is starting to hurt from how good it feels, the muscles tightening from the heavy moans he’s pulling from you.

“fuck, mista,” you sob, clawing at the armrest, your forehead leaning up against the fogged up window.

your breathing starts to climb an uphill battle, tears welling in your eyes, struggling to keep yourself upright, your hands gripping onto whatever you can grapple onto.

“oh god,” you sob out, trying to squirm from mista’s unrelenting mouth, but to no avail, he’s got you under control, refusing to let up until he’s done. your thighs try to shut but he’s got you spread open, tongue glued to your clit and fingers fucking into that sweet little spongy spot inside you.

your body tightens, hips jerking against mista’s face, pretty incoherencies falling from your swollen lips, your orgasm wracking through your sensitive body as intensely as a train coming down the side of a mountain.

it’s heavy and it's loud, rattling through your bones and numbing everything else around you with a blurry fog of overwhelming rapture.

he withstands all of your sporadic movements, wrangling you with his strong arms, lapping you up and coaxing your orgasm from you, slowing down to a full stop instead of immediately pulling away from you.

he kisses your cunt once more, peppering feather-light kisses to your inner thighs, his hand smacking the fat of your ass for good measure, a lazy chuckle tumbling from his lips at your weak whimper.

he lets you catch your breath for a moment, leaning back against the driver’s seat, softly panting as he watches you struggle to recuperate.

he swipes the back of his hand across his lips, drying his mouth before reaching back down to help you up. you’re nearly shaking, body still feeling the aftershocks of your climax, chuckling breathlessly when your eyes meet again.

“you’re insane,” you exhale humorously, letting mista slide into the passenger seat with you, feeling boneless while he holds your hips, sitting you in his lap. “could say the same thing about you,” he murmurs back, playfulness in his tone with a shadow of something suggestive.

you can feel how hard he still is against your ass, your head against his shoulder, your hips slowly, almost experimentally rolling over him. he groans, gripping your sides, his head falling against the headrest.

“mmh,” he breathes out, his hips following the same lazy motions as yours. he reaches beneath you, adjusting his cock to slide between your thighs, the fat tip peeking out through the soft thick valley of your lap.

he buries his face in the crook of your neck, huffing your scent like his life depends on it, his hands grappling for your hips while he fucks your thighs, groaning like he’s in heat.

“so fuckin’ soft,” he moans into your neck, his warm breath hitting your sensitive skin, pulling a small whimper from your lips, watching the way he ravishes your thighs.

he’s groaning freely in the crook of your neck, lips right up against your pulse, his hands groping and squeezing your delicate flesh, surely leaving bruises of his touch deep into you, but you don’t mind, you welcome it all.

his fingers hook themselves under your knee socks, pulling them back once more and watching the way they snap back in place, hissing at the sight of it, sending a hard thrust between your legs.

“love when you wear these things,” he grunts, resting his chin just above your collarbone, hazily bringing his gaze down to watch himself fuck your thighs, mesmerized by the vision and how you take it, squeezing your thighs together just for him.

“had a feeling,” you admit breathlessly, giggling softly, tilting your head to kiss the corner of his mouth. he turns to kiss you hard, holding you by the back of your head, moaning in your mouth.

“little slut,” he chuckles under a murmur against your lips, shifting around slightly until his cheekbone rests on your lips, looking back down to watch his cock disappear in and out your lap. you watch with him, moving your thighs up and down along with his thrusts, feeling your cunt ache to be filled at the sight.

you push your panties back to the side, guiding his cock to your clit, moaning shakily upon contact. he shudders a heavy groan, faltering into the passenger seat.

you grind your cunt up against his cock, gliding up and down your folds, drenching him in your slick, teasing your own hole with his fat tip.

“can i put it in? please?” you whine softly, your nose nudging his cheekbone desperately, circling over your hole, eager to let him slide in.

“fuck, i–i don’t have a condom,” he just about whimpers, and that alone makes you want to ride him until you physically can’t anymore.

“i don’t care, let’s just get a plan b after,” you offer, faltering into a moan when his tip rubs up against your clit. “fuck – yeah okay,” he groans, angling his hips and letting you push him inside.

you go slow, your eyebrows drawing together and jaw going slack at the thick stretch. a shaky breath rumbles from the base of your throat, your body going still for a few passing seconds, feeling full in a way you never have before.

“s-sorry, i just, need a second,” you swallow, gripping his forearms wrapped around you. “no s’okay, take your time,” he murmurs reassuringly, rubbing your thighs affectionately.

he leans in, kissing your neck gently, moaning softly into your skin, feeling your cunt squeeze around him. he slips his hand between your connected bodies, gingerly rubbing your clit.

“feel that?” he mumbles hushedly, lightly and carefully rolling his hips, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against your g-spot, his fingers massaging your clit in a perfect tandem. your body trembles and nearly collapses into him at the sensation, feeling slack in his lap.

he rolls into you gently like this for awhile, rubbing your sensitive clit, kissing at your neck and drinking in all your soft little mewls of his name.

“fuck me,” you pant, turning to cup his cheek, your nose brushing against his, your shared moans floating between each other’s lips.

he doesn’t need to be told twice, his hips starting to pick up the pace, fucking into you with an unveiled ferocity. you suck in a sharp breath at the new rush, falling back into him, letting him use your body however he wants, enjoying every second of it.

the sound of your soaked cunt getting filled by his thick cock fills the car along with the floating of your moans and grunts, the entire sight and act feels so dirty and obscene and it makes your pussy grip him that much harder, loving the way he makes you feel filthy.

you start meeting his thrusts, unable to keep still, starved for more and more of him, wanting nothing more than to have him fuck the shape of his cock into your walls, wanting him to be the only one to stretch you out and fill you to the hilt like this.

he fucks you hard but not fast with jackhammering thrusts, he wants you to feel as good as he does, he flicks his hips upwards with intentional deep curls, pulling loud hiccup-y moans of his name from your lips when he hits your g-spot.

he pushes in and out of you with hungry fluid motions, but he doesn’t want to rush and get it over with, he wants to savor this as long as he can hold out for, wanting to stay buried deep in your cunt forever.

your smaller hand curls around his, pressing down on his fingers that rub tight circles over your clit, sobbing from the pleasure wracking through your bones.

“feels s’fucking go-ood, wanted you for so long,” you admit through an earnest moan, bouncing up and down in his lap, every movement is filled with his cock, the feeling is inescapable in the best way possible. he groans, his hips sending a hard thrust, pushing you down to the hilt while his hands rise up and over your tits, squeezing your soft warm flesh.

“wanted you so bad, i thought about this so much, i’d always have to jerk off as soon i got home from being with you,” he confesses, panting in your skin, his teeth grazing your shoulder.

you shudder a moan at his words, imagining how pretty he must’ve looked and sounded fucking his fist with thoughts of you. “should’ve fucked me instead,” you whimper, your eyes rolling back as his hips slam into yours.

“yeah, i should’ve.” he grunts, raising his hips into the air, gripping your waist and fucking you with what feels like a second wind of energy, growing addicted to the way your tight cunt swallows him whole.

your hands scramble to hold onto the dashboard, jerking upwards from each hard thrust he sends into you. you rub your clit, sobbing his name, your cheek smushed against the dash, tears mixing with your drawn out moans.

you push back against his thrusts, the pleasure from the shared friction paired with the desperate rubs to your clit, nearly blind you, your eyes clenched shut and jaw slack open with a pour of tearful moans.

your cunt grips him, your body spasming over the dash, a fiery heat bursts in the pit of your stomach and spreads like wildfire throughout your entire body, burning everything in it’s path and scorching you from the inside out. he doesn’t stop fucking you even after you’ve cum, grappling your limp body back towards him.

he pulls out for a second, his chest aching when you wince from the sudden loss. he’s quick to mend this, bending you back over the center console, your face against the driver’s seat as he shoves himself back into you, groaning at the relief of your warm pussy enveloping him.

his balls slap against your ass, his hips flush against you and cock lodged deep in you. “where can i cum?” he asks through a grunt, trying to hold back before you answer him.

“inside,” you answer quickly, desperate to feel him bury his cum in you until you’re leaking. he groans, his hips slamming into yours, chasing after his own high.

he hikes his leg up for better leverage, his hands roped around your hips, melding your sides into the shape of his palms and fingers.

“fuck, fuck,” he grunts heavily, pulling back and slamming into you, curling over your back, his cock completely buried inside of you. he thrusts slowly a few more times, letting your cunt milk him for all he’s got, cumming thick ropes inside you.

he wraps his arms around you, his abdomen is slick with sweat when it rests atop your back, his cheek on your shoulderblade and his hefty panting falling on your skin. you both struggle to calm your heart rate and to catch your breaths, even after he pulls out.

he swallows down one of his breaths, exhaling lowly as he watches his cum trickle down your inner thigh. he catches it, dragging it back up and pushing it into you. you gasp, your hips stuttering away from the stimulation, a shaky whimper escaping your swollen lips.

he takes mercy on you, laughing breathlessly and putting your panties back on, letting his cum pool into the gusset of the fabric. he slaps your cunt one last time, his softening cock twitching at the way you twitch from the impact.

he leans down, planting one last soft kiss to your ass, inching backward to pull your shorts up your hips, remaining gentle as he does so.

he tucks himself into his pants before helping you up from the seat, cradling your trembling body into his lap, beckoning you to curl into his chest while he rubs your back soothingly.

comfortable silence falls upon you both, your hearts calming down together and your breathing synchronizing through a sense of warm relaxation that blankets across your bodies. his fingers draw up and down your spine languidly, his chin on top of your head as he holds you close.

“you okay?” he murmurs, glancing down at you with care. you nod tiredly, yawning. “mmh yeah, just sleepy. you?” you ask, that familiar sleepy rasp returning to your voice. he chuckles, the rumbling from his chest vibrating against your back, bringing you comfort. “yeah, i’m good.”

“mista?” you ask again, feeling slightly nervous now. “yeah?” he responds back, his tone soft and quiet, removing a portion of your fear. “we’re more than friends now right?” you question anxiously, keeping your voice tucked towards your chest, too nervous to even look up and meet his eyes.

he pauses for a moment, his warm hand stilling over the small of your back. his other hand cups your chin, bringing your stare to his.

“i think we’ve always been.” you grin, any fear of rejection you had extinguishing from your heart. “i think so too.” you agree, feeling hot and sheepish under his gaze.

“well… do you want to… maybe ask me anything?” you prod lightly, a light playfulness in the wind of your question. he chuckles, nodding with his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

“will you let me take you on a date? i wanna ask you in… a nicer setting. not in my car after we just fucked,” he laughs, a small blush plucking at his cheeks, somehow still nervous you’d turn him down. you giggle, nodding affirmatively as your arms wrap around his neck.

“i’d like that. now, can we go get that plan b?” his eyes widen in remembrance of that, uttering a hushed, ‘oh shit,’

“yeah oh my god, of course, lets go,” he lifts you off his lap, gently setting you back into the seat, messily clambering across the car to hop into the driver’s seat, hurriedly starting the car on.

“buckle up,” he eyes you, nodding towards your seatbelt. you roll your eyes, endeared by his instructions as you, buckle yourself in.

“yes sir,” you tease, but mista glances at you, raising a brow, pulling out of the parking space and heading towards the road. “d’you think you can you call me that time?” he asks hopefully and you laugh, swatting at his arm.

“mista!” you whine embarrassedly as if someone heard. he laughs with you, throwing his hand up in defense. “fine. but only if i can get a snack with the plan b.” he purses his lips in fake thought, humming to himself. “mmm, okay. seems like a fair trade off.”

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