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For a man that goes with the flow of life, Mista’s not one to complain about the briefing call being moved up by Bruno. Mista gets it. Plans change, after all.
But to you? This was beyond short notice.
Bruno had pinged everyone in the Passione Discord server five fucking minutes before Bruno declared himself ready to start sharing his screen for the mission briefing. Your capo had the absolute nerve to interrupt your day with gang business while you were planning on having some playtime with your dear Mista.
Lucky for you Mista doesn’t mind if you take a page out of his playbook. You decide to go with the flow, opting to obey and hop into the voice channel.
After double-checking he’s online, as indicated by the little green circle near his icon—a photogenic, dimpled photo of himself—you message Mista, come to vc for a sec
In a second you see him typing, then he stops, starts, and at last you hear a chime signaling his arrival in the voice chat.
“Hey,” he crackles through your headphones. By the squeak you hear under his voice, you gather that he’s leaning back in his computer chair. “Miss me, babe?”
“Naturally,” you laugh, itching your cheek. For the time being, it’s just you and him.
You can hear Mista’s smirk in his voice. “What’d you call me to class early for? Extra lessons?”
“Something like that.”
It’s been enough time in your relationship where Mista should know what your tone of voice means.
By the way he sputters over his words for a second, he does know. His wit is as sharp as his skill as a gunslinger. A hot weapon—dangerous, even. And he melts like molten steel when you talk like that.
He knows you have something up your sleeve. It spells disaster for him.
“Y-yeah?”
He loves it.
It’s at that moment where Giorno pops into the channel, pre-muted, and you clam up. You decide to stick to private messaging with Mista. In your haste to continue you forget to greet Giorno.
Mista picks up the slack. “Hey, Gio!”
You half-listen as Giorno unmutes himself. “Good evening, Mista. Hello, Y/N. Glad to see you here.”
Ears perking up at the sound of your name, you bark, “Hi Gio!”
On Mista’s monitor, he gets a little red ping and the short jingle of you messaging him.
now, where were we...
Mista smirks, typing, good question. i get the feeling you’ve got smth that i’m gonna either love or hate
You take a second to respond. You’ll make sure he feels both.
Fugo joins the voice chat before you can hit enter. What immaculate timing.
He greets, “Afternoon. I see Mista’s on time for a change.”
You catch the tail-end of a quiet chuckle from Giorno. At some junctures, you’re grateful for noise-cancelling technology. Certainly makes for a better listening experience when Narancia decides to tune in with a mouthful of pizza.
Speaking of him, Narancia manages to slide in before Bruno has to call his cell personally to remind him of his invitation.
“Hey guys!” he shouts.
Fugo groans, “Must you yell like that? You’ll break my Airpods.”
“Wow, you’re really flexin’ on me? I got those fuckin’ off brand ones.”
“I know,” sighs Fugo. “I bought them for you.”
“Oh yeah...”
You roll your eyes, noticing that Giorno muted himself once more before you direct yourself back to your private message with Mista. He’s pinged you twice in the short span of time you weren’t watching. Or listening.
oh god i’m scared now
what is it???
A third.
just kiddin i’m not scared... unless you want me to be jk jk
You don’t leave him hanging. just listen to me, will you? have patience
you got it babe
At last, Bruno joins. “Hi, everyone! Good to see we’re all—nope, Abbacchio isn’t here. Hold on. Let me call him.”
He leaves the chat.
Mista laughs, “That didn’t last long. Good meeting, guys. See you next week.”
A resounding chuckle fills the chat.
You message him, when abba joins, i want you to start jerking off
Mista’s mic picks up his shuddering breath.
aight
You can’t stop your grin. Whatever scene or mischief you concoct for him, Mista never takes it too seriously. At any point he can flash a grin and bless the air with another chuckle—sometimes breathless—and through it all he’s still your obedient, sweet Mista.
It always makes you feel at home. And helps you feel a little less bad about inflicting pain on him.
He accepts it willingly, of course. At some points even begging for it.
Bruno re-joins with Abbacchio following soon after. Like Giorno, Abbacchio is muted. Must be busy doing other things. Just like what Mista should be doing.
got your hands full yet?
Mista shoots a response like lightning. you flatter me babe
You call him out, not having the patience for any bullshit on his end, is that a yes? you didn’t answer me
uhhhh
Mista rushes to tug down his grey sweats down around his knees. What? A man can be comfortable while he has a meeting. They were getting tight anyway.
hello??
A second passes before the three green dots indicate he’s typing again. One of Mista’s hands lazily grips the base of his cock, gauging its weight as it swells in anticipation.
yeah now i am
good boy. and no muting yourself
bro what??
you heard me
You hear Mista huff into his mic. No one comments on it.
ur gonna kill me one day aintcha
“Alright, we’re all present,” sighs Bruno. “Let’s start with where we’re going to be this week...”
You mentally check out as soon as he starts his spiel. Nothing about these gang meetings change even if the way in which you have them changes.
Mista certainly misses being able to nosh on some restaurant’s desserts, but the way you keep him entertained during these meetings prevents any impending complaints. You’re sweet enough.
It dawns on him then that he’s got his half-hard dick in his hands with all his friends—his closest compatriots and partners in crime—present. They’ve got no clue, but all the same a wave of shame and something else rushes down Mista’s spine. The thick hair on his arms bristles at the thrill.
Mista catches a bubbling groan by knitting his lower lip between his teeth, the circumstances and their implications jolting straight to his cock. It throbs in his large hands, heavy and eager for your next word.
Right on cue, you seem to read his mind.
you better keep quiet
yeah Another message follows soon after. got any instructions for me?
You think on it for a split second, answering before you can really stop your fingers. by the end of this meeting you’re gonna cum so don’t you worry about that... After hitting enter, you shoot him an additional text, but you’re gonna have to listen to me carefully
He replies fast. mmk
are you hard?
very much so
are you jerking off?
yep
You decide to poke some fun. is it hard to type with one hand?
you know what i’m packin is a two hander type deal here
lmao shut up
While Bruno drones on, Mista hisses a breath that scratches at his mic painfully.
You hear someone groan in irritation. By the sound of it, you have a pretty good idea who it might be.
“Do you mind not polluting the fucking audio, Mista?” Fugo growls. “I’m sorry if this briefing is too boring for you but—”
Mista blurts, forcing a chuckle, “Sorry, dude.”
“God, Fugo, what bug crawled up your ass today? No need to be such a dick about it,” Narancia adds.
“Shut up! If you joined me for rounds, you’d know!”
You mute yourself before you can giggle out loud and get a lecture from Fugo. Keyboard clacking, you remind Mista, what did i tell you about keeping quiet?
sorry, he quickly types. feels too good
does it now. knowing that all your friends are here while you’re jerking off? you are jerking off right? you better be
Mista shifts in his chair, spreading his legs for a better grip on his cock. From the confines of his lowered waistband, he tugs his heavy balls out while a fist drags a smooth line up and down.
With his free hand, Mista confirms, yep
You smile at the simple response. i wish i could see you doing it. i bet your cheeks are a cute color
Mista softly chuckles.
“Something funny, Mista?” asks Fugo. “Was hearing about how I almost got ran over funny?”
Mista sputters, and in the back of his mind there’s a small you telling him not to stop stroking himself. “W-well, no, just thought-a somethin’ from, uh, earlier.”
“Care to share exactly what that is?” Fugo’s extra biting today. Perfect.
Narancia tries to soothe the beast, “Dude, let up already.”
For the first time since joining, Abbacchio unmutes, the lowest baritone ringing out. “Fugo, you were not ‘almost ran over’ today.”
After you hear Mista snort in laughter, you gently remind him to keep up his task at hand, a little pervert like you shouldn’t be jerking off while his friends are talking, right?
Mista manages enough self control to keep himself from groaning upon reading that. While his cock pulses in one hand, his other dances across his keyboard. The thought that it’ll be covered in cum strikes him.
no but fuck is this kinda hot
glad you think so
Bruno says something about tentative deadlines. Not that you care.
now go a little faster for me
Mista obeys, biting at his lip and letting his eyes drift shut. Each long stroke feels electric, the deliberate words of his capo distant.
At this moment, it’s his purpose. He lives to serve you. Whatever you’ve got planned, he’ll take it.
good boy. maybe next time we can fuck while we have a meeting
Mista doesn’t reply. Instead he fusses with his tensing balls as he focuses on the head of his cock, flushed red and leaking over his palm. He sinks deeper into his desk chair and it creaks loudly under his weight.
His mic picks it up. He doesn’t care.
All he can think about is you bouncing on his dick, your sopping warmth enveloping his hard cock as Bruno’s low voice drones on and on and—
Pinged him again. mista?
god thats too fuckin hot i couldnt stop lol
did you come without permission?
no dw, he quickly types. im a good boy remember
you are. a very good one
im close tho
Bruno clears his throat. “Any questions?”
good timing. cum for me mista. spill your load while your friends might be able to hear.
He breathes directly into his mic again, breaking the silence before Bruno can adjourn the meeting.
Bruno asks, “Is that a no, Mista?”
A beat of festering silence.
Fugo snarls into his mic, “Come on, answer your capo!”
“N-no,” manages Mista. The words come out forced through clenched teeth as his hand pumps in a furious rhythm.
You continue to tease, they’re all waiting. make a mess of yourself for me. do it, mista. cum.
Bruno coughs. “So did you have a question or—”
“Ah—” Mista gasps, finally spending himself over his fist with a sustained hum. Unseen by you, he shudders and shoots ropes of cum over his desk, hits the spacebar, even cresting the top of the monitor. Silence alerts him back to reality before his abs can stop twitching. “Shit—uh, yeah, no. Nope. No questions here. All good.”
The breathlessness and strain in his voice leaves little to be said. Anyone with a brain should be able to know what—
“Oh! I have one!” Narancia pipes up, words muddied in the midst of a playlist.
You type to Mista, how was that?
hwoa, he says, followed by, whoa* oopsmy hands r shakin
pretty good huh?
more than that but my fuckin keys are sticky
Sputtering a chuckle, you type, hitting shift too much?
nah, just thinkin about you too much
awww
Bruno’s voice breaks through your concentration like a velvet blade. “That’s that, everyone! I’ll DM you the specifics of what you’re to do this week, so keep an eye out. Don’t mute me, Narancia.”
“Fine, fine,” sighs Narancia. “Bye, guys!”
“See you later,” Fugo grumbles before he disconnects.
One by one the rest provide pleasantries then duck out. Leaving you and Mista and Bruno in the dust.
Bruno’s microphone manages to detect shuffling paper noises. “Oh! You two are still here. Is there something you need from me?”
For the first time since the meeting officially began, your icon sports a green ring when you speak into the voice channel, “No, just wanted to thank you for the nice meeting. It was great fun.”
Mista knows you’re speaking directly to him.
Bruno hums as his cursor hovers over the disconnect button. “I’m happy to hear it. Like I said, please keep an eye out for messages from me.”
“Will do.”
Mista says, “You got it, chief.”
Bruno announces his farewell and leaves only you and Mista.
“Well.”
“Well!” Mista chuckles. “You had me sweating that whole time.”
“Worried you’d get caught?”
“Duh! I’m pretty loud when I’m, y’know. ‘Cept when I got somethin’ in my mouth.”
You giggle, getting the hint. “Oh, I’m well aware.” An odd moment of silence meets your words.
Checking he’s still online and in the chat, you try, “Mista?”
“Uh-oh. Umm...” Mista barks a chuckle that borders on nervous. “Bucciarati just messaged me.”
“What’d he say?”
“Told me to behave myself next time.”