#dio master of words

[missadangel]

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 9: Hurt

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Chapter Summary: Is love enough to overcome everything? -Yes. How? -No. Why? Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 9,8k, ANGST (sorry for that), love, feelings, fluffy, rom-com, lust, passion, dirty talk, love triangle, intrigue, mention about death. authors note: I used Spanish and Italian language in some parts, I'm sorry if I made mistake, I'm still a learner. Feel free to warn me guys :) Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

“Baby, just try to breathe.” 

That was the third time Harry had said it as you both stepped out of the car, holding hands while walking up to the mansion. But despite his reassurance, your nerves were still going wild. 

Excitement mixed with anxiety as the weight of the moment settled in; you were about to meet your boyfriend's mother. Your mind raced with questions, each one jostling for attention like cars on a racetrack.

No, don’t think about cars, you reminded yourself.

You didn’t want to make a strange first impression by mentioning things like what men typically like. The last thing you wanted was for your future mother-in-law to think you were odd.

Mother-in-law.

That thought made you grin a bit. 

Suddenly, you felt Harry’s lips on your temples, and you turned to him in surprise. “You looked like you needed that,” he said with a grin, wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you toward the door.

He was right; the kiss worked wonders. You gazed at the grand historical mansion in front of you, located in Brooklyn Heights, not too far from the bridge. It was surprisingly close to your and Zoe's apartment in Dumbo. Considering the Castillo family's wealth, you were taken aback to learn his mother lived here. On the way over, Harry had mentioned that his mother had faced a trauma that kept her from leaving the house for years. That made you feel a wave of empathy as you anticipated meeting her. Taking a deep breath, you tightened your grip on Harry's hand while clutching the bag of pastries and pie you had prepared all morning.

“Mr. Castillo, it’s great to see you again.” 

An older guy opened the door, greeted Harry, and welcomed both of you in with a warm gesture. Stepping inside, the spacious reception hall welcomed you with its grandeur. The staircase twisted in multiple directions, adorned with wrought iron balustrades and floral designs. While you admired the surroundings, Harry helped you remove your coat before doing the same for himself, handing them to the man. 

“This way,” he said, guiding you gently toward a large hall on the right with his hand resting on your back. 

“Master Harry!” A woman in her sixties approached you, arms wide open and wearing a big grin. Dressed casually, her accent clearly revealed her Latin roots. 

“How are you, Sofia?” Harry asked her. 

“I’m better now that I’ve seen you!” she replied, giving his arm an affectionate touch. 

Then, she turned her attention to you, her smile widening as she took in your appearance from head to toe. “Oh, Dios mío, qué mujer tan hermosa eres.” 

Nervously, you smiled. Your Spanish wasn’t great, but you grasped the compliment. “Muchas gracias,” you managed to reply. 

Her laughter rang out as she seamlessly switched back to rapid Spanish, leaving you a bit lost. You looked to Harry for help. “Sofia, could you please speak in English? I’m not sure she understands you,” he said to her.

“Oh, disculpa, señorita,” she said, looking at you, a bit embarrassed. “Mrs. Castillo is inside, waiting for you.” She took the bag from your hand and led the way. 

As you walked in, you whispered to Harry, “I really need to work on my Spanish.”

He chuckled lightly. “It’s not on you. Sofia’s English isn’t great, and she loves speaking her native tongue. Sometimes she talks so fast that even I can’t keep up.” 

“Oh yes, they’re here; I’ll call you later,” a voice came from the living room. When she hung up and turned around, you couldn’t help but admire her. She was a woman in her late sixties with short gray hair, stunning for her age. Honestly, she looked more like Harry's older sister than his mom. 

Her gaze focused on Harry, and a joyful tear sprang to her eye as a wide smile spread across her face. “Mi hijo!” They embraced tightly, and you felt a warm smile cross your lips as you watched them. She playfully punched Harry on the shoulder. “You’ve really been a bad son! Is your job more important than your old mama?” 

“Mother, must you embarrass me in front of my girlfriend?" he grunted.

Her gaze then shifted to you, prompting you to flash your most nervous smile. As her admiration deepened, you felt your cheeks heat up while she appraised you with a satisfied expression. “Oh, how beautiful you are!” she exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at Harry. “Now I see why you’ve been so busy.” 

Harry chuckled as he introduced you. 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Castillo,” you said warmly, extending your hand. 

With a cheerful laugh, she shook your hand. “Oh, please, cariño, just call me Valeria.”

Sofia, the woman you met earlier, quietly stepped into the room and leaned in to whisper, her eyes sparkling with mischief as they both chuckled while looking at you. “Sofia says dinner’s ready; let’s head to the dining room,” Valeria announced, her gaze locking onto yours with intensity. Harry took your hand gently, and Valeria placed her hand reassuringly on your back. “Come on, sweetheart,” she invited with warmth.

Well, you hadn’t expected this kind of attention from Harry’s mom. She kept an eye on you until you were comfortably settled at the table. Harry pulled your chair out for you, sliding it in once you sat down, then took a seat right beside you. Valeria, at the head of the table, folded her hands and shot you a warm smile while Harry beamed with happiness as you two exchanged grins.

As dinner was served, Harry and Valeria chatted easily about work. When the conversation shifted your way, you answered every question honestly, sharing that your mom had passed away, your dad was living alone on your farm in Atlanta, and a bit more about your life. Valeria listened closely, her kind smile and supportive words making you feel at ease. When it was your turn to talk about your job—the part that made you the most anxious—Valeria surprised you. “Don’t feel ashamed, honey. This job is one of the toughest out there. People can be awful, but you’re amazing and hard-working, and you deserve more. Keep your head high; it’s the person who brings dignity to the job, not the job that brings dignity to the person.”

You recognized the quote. “Martin Luther King,” you said, smiling back in gratitude. "Thank you Valeria."

Harry then reached over the table to take your hand. “Actually, she’s done with that for now,” he said, looking deeply into your eyes. You smiled back. “Because I didn’t want her to wear out her beautiful, skillful hands,” he added, kissing your knuckles. A bit shy about the attention in front of his mom, you bit your lower lip and grinned nervously.

Valeria sipped her champagne, a playful smile lighting up her face. “Hmm, I sense a bit of ‘skillful’ in your tone, Harry.”

“She’s an incredibly talented bakery chef,” he proclaimed proudly.

"Um-" You were about to protest, but Harry continued, “You’ve got your certificate, love; it’s time to stop being modest. You’re officially a chef now,” he said with proud, prompting smiles between you.

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Valeria said excitedly.

“And this made by this lovely lady herself, Mrs. Castillo,” Sofia chimed in with a smile as she entered the room, serving the dessert you’d prepared and placing it in the center of the table.

“Ah, Sopapilla?” Valeria said, her eyes lighting up in delight.

“Harry mentioned it was your favorite, so I made it for you. I hope you like it,” you said, biting your lower lip.

Sofia drizzled honey over the cheesecake before serving Valeria, then Harry, and finally you. “My baby's been hustling in the kitchen all morning to make this,” Harry said, glancing your way as he took a bite of the cheesecake.

“Ah, this is absolutely delicious! The best sopapilla pie I’ve ever had. It’s fantastic!” Valeria exclaimed eagerly, savoring another forkful.

“Thanks, I’m so glad you like it,” you said happily, relieved.

“I loved it, honey,” Valeria added, giving Harry a knowing look and then turning back to you. “It was really sweet of you to make this for me.”

As the evening went on, Harry shared stories about his family and showed you old photos in another room. He talked about his sister, who had passed away young due to a congenital disease, and how their mom struggled after that. He also shared the history of their home, which was built in the 1800s for a ship dealer and beautifully restored with modern touches after Harry’s dad immigrated from Mexico to New York. The house’s stunning design, with its vintage charm, offered breathtaking views of the city from the terrace, while the backyard was a serene escape, filled with plants, flowers, and dwarf trees, created since his mom couldn’t go outside anymore. It was a beautiful house, especially seeing it was where Harry grew up.

When you asked for permission to use the bathroom, Harry went to his mom. In the kitchen, he and Sofia were chatting about you.

“She’s got a pretty good figure,” Valeria giggled.

"And young too," Sofia said.

“Even better. Young enough to give me lots of grandchildren one day—hopefully.”

"Fingers crossed. Oh, Jesus, please hear our little prayers.”

They both raised their hands above as if praying, then laughed together.

Harry, hands on his hips, huffed in mock disapproval. “What kind of conversation are you two having about my girlfriend?”

Valeria took Harry's face in her hands and smiled warmly. “Harry, this girl is incredible. I was so nervous since it’s the first time you’ve brought someone home. But you really hit the jackpot! Don’t let her slip away; propose to her and put a ring on it! If you don't marry this girl, I'll beat the shit out of you regardless of your age,” she said, teasing.

Sofia chimed in with a laugh, “Last time you said that, Harry was only 19.”

They both shot her a look, and Sofia quickly looked away, focusing on her work.

“Mom, don’t worry. Even if she ever decides to leave me, I wouldn’t let her go. Besides, I was coming to ask you for your wedding ring.”

Valeria gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh my! Are you really going to propose? Did you hear that, Sofia?”

Sofia clapped her hands excitedly. “Gracias Jesus! Finally, the moment you’ve been waiting for, Mrs. Castillo! God bless you, Harry,” her voice a little shaky from all the happiness.

Harry chuckled and then warned her, "Ssh, she will hear you."

“I thought you might never want that ring; thought it would just gather dust in the drawer,” Valeria said with a happy sigh. “Hold on, I’ll go get it for you.”

After Valeria left the kitchen, cheerfully murmuring to herself, Sofia turned to Harry. “I haven’t seen her this happy in ages, and neither have you. She was so down when you went to France, but now…” Her voice trailed off as tears welled up in her eyes. “Thank goodness for this moment; it’s such a blessing to see you both so blissful.” 

Harry grinned back at her, totally oblivious to the fact that you were walking back from the bathroom and could hear him in the hallway. “Thank you, Sofia. I promise it won't happen again; she’s been through enough. Now that I’ve found the one, we will create our happiness together, and nothing will stand in our way. I won’t allow it.”

You smiled, hoping for the same.

The first day of the fair arrived just a few days after you received your certificate and master’s license. The logo design for the booth, brochures, banners, and everything else was set to go. After much consideration, you, Harry, and Mia -who insisted strongly- finally settled on the brand name “The Vanilla Vine.” Since it was the weekend, Zoe joined you at the booth. Harry was the first to test the desserts and sweets you made, followed by Maria, Mia, and John.

The fairgrounds brimmed with a tapestry of colorful booths, filled with throngs of eager visitors. As the hours slipped by, more and more people gravitated towards your booth, captivated by the tantalizing aromas wafting from your offerings. Each smile and compliment filled your heart with joy, a testament to all the hard work you had poured into this endeavor. However, as the sun began to set, the fatigue began to settle in, weighing on your limbs. Harry, receiving an urgent call, excused himself and hurried off, leaving just you and Zoe to manage the dregs of the day. Thankfully, it turned out to be a way better day than you expected—almost everything was sold out before closing time.

As John and Zoe were heading home together, you waved goodbye to them before getting into the car that Harry had sent for you. You were so ready to get home, take a shower, and collapse in bed—exhausted from the long day of cooking and standing around.

You were yawning when the elevator dinged as it reached Harry’s penthouse. You swiped the card against the door lock and stepped inside, finding the lights off. Hadn't he come home yet?

“Harry?” you called out, but there was no reply.

Only stillness answered, prompting you to pull out your phone. A quick call confirmed he would be home in a few hours. Sighing, you wandered into the laundry room, shedding your clothes before heading into the bathroom for a hot shower. You tossed your well-worn cooking apron and the remnants of your day’s attire into the washing machine. The steam enveloped you as you stood under the warm water, washing away the fatigue, and afterward, you slipped into bed wearing only Harry’s bathrobe, far too worn and loose for you, but comforting nonetheless.

You fell asleep pretty much right away.

When you woke without opening your eyes, you felt the bed dip as he slid next to you, followed by a gentle pressure on your cheek. His familiar, masculine scent of cologne wafted through the air, and you felt the tickle of his mustache as he kissed your cheek.

“You awake, baby?” he asked softly.

Not quite opening your eyes, you mumbled sleepily, “You came.”

He wrapped his arm around you, burying his nose in your damp hair. "Sorry I'm late. A few things came up."

His tone urged you to open your eyes. “Is everything okay?” you asked, not turning to face him.

"A few setbacks, but I’ll handle it tomorrow. Don’t worry about it. How did things go after I left? Everything run smoothly?"

You released a sigh of relief. “Yeah, it was fantastic—everything sold out.” 

“They were all incredible. I’m not surprised at all. I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have succeeded without your support. Thank you for everything,” you murmured, turning to him.

He smiled wider, leaned down, and kissed you, his hand sliding under the collar of your robe, brushing your skin. “No underwear?”

You smiled at the thrill in his voice.

"I was so worn out to wear any. I still am," you murmured, turning onto your side and closing your eyes again teasingly.

Mischievously, he gathered your damp hair and slowly slid the robe down to your shoulder. He started placing soft kisses along your skin, moving to your neck. “I wonder how tired are you? Can you rate it for me?”

"I would rate it a solid 10 out of 10," you murmured again, trying to hide your amusement while content to enjoy his warmth.

“Hmm, that much? Well, can I have permission to fuck you while you sleep then, because I want you so bad.”

You turned to him lazily, your eyelids heavy. "Baby, I'm wiped."

He smiled mischievously and whispered into your face as he ran his lips along the edge of yours. "Hush, it's all right, love. Just stay still. I'll take care of you."

It was the first bit of excitement you felt, even though you were really tired, and you started to wonder if he was thinking about where to begin.

Damn.

The idea of him running his tongue over your skin was enough to make you wet. Drifting into consciousness slowly, you were enjoying the feel of being wrapped by his strong, warm arms. You stretched a little, toes pointed toward the end of the bed, and snuggled tighter into him.

However, his intention was not solely for cuddling.

His arm curved around you, slid a hand under the robe to cup your breast, gently pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The stimulation made you gasp, the sensation blossoming out and down. 

You suddenly noticed that Harry still hadn’t taken off his shirt. Your hands searched for the hem clumsily, he laughed at your efforts. With a swift movement, he yanked off his black T-shirt and tossed it to the floor. His arm slipped around you from behind as his other hand skillfully pulled the robe off you. The scent of fresh soap from your skin reached him, he couldn’t help but touch you again, trailing his lips softly over your skin. Your hands found the waistband of his pants with a bit more ease this time, and as you tried to unbuckle them in the low light, you noticed that the thrill of the moment was making you feel surprisingly more alert and less tipsy. As you loosened the belt, he delightedly caressed your neck and collarbone, then between your breasts, using wet touches of his tongue and smiling as he tasted lavender off your skin.

But now he was feeling impatient.

Dangerously so.

He sat on the bed to remove his pants and left them to the same fate as his T-shirt, returning to the bed to kiss you passionately. You both moaned from the vibrating waves of the touch as he insistently thrust his tongue into your mouth. You felt a shiver run through you as you realized that the taste of his tongue and saliva revealed he had just knocked back a strong whiskey.

Irish.

Neat.

He must’ve had about four or five shots.

He always went hard like that whenever he was feeling stressed.

It was kinda wild and almost beautiful to understand him just by tasting him.

It felt like reading a book without even looking at the pages.

He was too, and he relished tasting you just as much. He felt the vanilla frosting of the cupcake you had just popped in your mouth before you got in the shower - the only thing left from the fair - on his tongue and he sucked so hard that you couldn't help pushing yourself against him, almost sitting up in bed. You held onto his shoulders and his hand, which was everywhere at that moment, began to caress your legs sweetly. With a swift movement he got rid of his underwear and got back to business.

He ducked his head, kissing his way slowly up your belly, over your ribs, finally taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking gently. "Oh," you gasp, bucking your hips against him. Harry released the tender nub and blew gently. His breath was hot against your wet, cool skin, making you writhe.

You groaned and arched your back, then leaned in to kiss him. His kiss was now slow and thorough. He moved his mouth over yours, drinking more while he groaned. He nudged your thighs apart with his knee, lowering his hips to grind his hard cock against your pussy. You spread your legs wider, bringing your knees up and hooking your ankles behind his back. You felt him reach down and slide his fingers between your folds to rub against your clit. He dipped two fingers inside you, moaning as he slid easily into your hot, wet pussy. He grinded his hips in time with the stroke of his fingers inside you, his cock hard and rough against your clit.

“Oh god Harry,” you moaned, watching him.

He looked up at you, eyes glistening in the dim light. His mouth quirked up at the corners into a half smile. "Feels good, baby?"

You ran your fingers through his hair, which looked really dark, almost black, in the dim light. "Yes, keep going please," you craved.

As you moved your hand down his forehead, you gently touched his face, trailing your thumb over his eyebrows and giving his cheeks and jawline a soft caress.Then, your fingers wove through his hair again, with your thumbs circling around the contours of his ears this time, he smirked, clearly enjoying it. You sit up to kiss him again, rocking your hips against his palm as he continued pumping his fingers inside of you.

A groan escaped from your lips as you came.

He then captured your mouth in a fervent kiss to swallow your loud moans, pulling his fingers out slowly. “So fucking hot,” he hummed then dipped his head down to kiss your neck, hands pulling at your hips, flipping you onto your stomach.

You buried your face into the pillow, groaning when you feel his cock against your ass. He kneads your ass, pulling your cheeks apart. You could feel his knees on either sides of your thighs. He kissed your back, sliding the head of his cock down low between your legs to rest against your pussy.

He slid inside of you so slowly that every nerve sings. It glided against the taught, wet muscles, stretching and pulling. Harry's hips come to rest against your ass as he buried himself inside of you. He pulled back, movements measured and deliberate. "God, you're so tight, every damn time," he groaned.

Bringing your ass up, you pushed against him, silently begging for more. He grabbed you, long fingers wrapping around your hips. He pulled back but only to push himself forcefully forward into you with a grunt. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy. I want to fuck you so hard."

“Yes, please,” you beg, voice party muffled by the pillow.

“You want it hard baby?” he asked, voice ragged almost begging for your confirmation.

“Yes,” the muscles in your abdomen shuddered and tighten with expectation.

And that was it.

He rocked his hips back, his forward thrust slamming inside of you, repeating the motion again and again, bed rocking, springs creaking slightly with the rhythm.

Gripping the sheets desperately, "Harry," you moaned, mewled and gasped, your own movements limited by the position. He leaned over you, lips pressing to your shoulders and the back of your neck, licking sucking, nibbling.

Pressing your ass up, you pushed down against the bed, breathless. Harry shifted, pulling out. You felt his cock, wet and hard, smack against your thigh. You got up onto your knees, turning to your lover. He took your breasts in his hands, kneading them, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples.

“Baby,” he whispered, dipping his head to kiss you. His lips were soft and part readily. You reached down, taking his cock in your hand which was slick from your pussy. You tightened your fingers around his thick shaft, stroking slowly. He moaned and shifted back, sitting against the headboard. Your body moved with him, lips pressed to his, stroking his cock in your hand.

Stretching his legs out, he pulled you into his lap, fingers digging into your ass. Never breaking the kiss, you tilted his cock up towards you, slowly lowering your hips onto him.

Harry groaned.

You spread your knees to either side of his hips, taking as much of his cock as you can before rocking your hips back, grinding your clit down against him. He broke the kiss, running his tongue down along your neck, nipping gently at the base, just above your collar bone. You set the pace, increasing the speed as you find your rhythm and the pressure started to build in your core.

“Harry,” you gasped, gripping his broad shoulders for leverage. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him. He slid his left knee up the bed shifting onto his side enough to drive his hips up into you, head bent as he panted.

Kissing the top of his head, you wrapped your arms around his neck, grinding yourself down onto him faster, gasping. His cock was hitting you just right, sliding against your right spot. The pressure built quickly, your movements becoming frantic.

“Come baby, I want to feel you come,” he rasped.

With a loud moan, you collapsed into him, eyes squeezed shut and head falling back. The deep sensation of pleasure blast through you, setting off a chain reaction of bliss. Your pussy clenched around him, muscles milking him.

With an impatient growl, he pushed you down onto the bed, pushing your knees out wide. His hips pounded into you, rocking you back and down against the mattress. He gasped and grunted, head down, lost in the sensation.

You brought your hips up, snapping them upwards quickly in time with his thrusts. Digging your nails into his ass, you pulled him into you, moaning soft encouragements.

He shuddered, groaning, collapsing onto you as he came hard. He tightened his arms around you, sliding his cock in slowly once, twice, until only his chest moves against you in time with his quick, ragged breaths.

You slid your hands up his back, the outlines of his arms, biceps like faint messages under your fingertips. Harry kissed your chest, letting out a long, shaky breath against your skin. "God, I love you so much," he said, still catching his breath. 

"I love you too Harry. So so much."

He lifted his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he gazed deeply into your eyes. Then, leaning in, he pressed his lips against yours for a slow, tender kiss.

In the morning, when Harry dropped you off at the convention center before work, he couldn't tear his eyes away from his phone. He was deep in a serious convo, his face all furrowed. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, but he wasn't sharing any details. Whatever it was, it felt like a dark cloud hanging over you both, even as he leaned in for that quick goodbye kiss before you left the car.

The second day of the fair turned out to be even busier than the first. You felt grateful that Zoe had taken time off from her job, as managing the booth alone was quite challenging. As much as you wanted Harry by your side, with his busy schedule, it was unreasonable to expect him to be there all day. Still, you couldn’t fault him; he had a lot on his plate at the company right now.

As the hours flew by, visitors showed a growing interest in the products at your stand. They kept asking about the shop, inquiring when it would open and expressing eagerness to visit, Zoe included.

“Have you signed the lease for the shop yet?” she asked while you arranged cupcakes on the display.

You replied, “Harry's a bit swamped at the moment, but we're just waiting to hear back from the shopkeeper about the lease terms.”

“Oh, I really hope everything goes smoothly. I can’t wait to be a waitress at your shop – my current boss is driving me crazy. He’s acting like I faked my sprained ankle to just chill on the couch all week or something,” she complained.

“What a jerk,” you said, frowning before a smile broke through. “I hope so too, girl.” You often daydreamed about the day when Zoe would be working alongside you as a waitress, serving customers the desserts you made while you managed the cash register, chatting with them and baking treats in your shop. That day didn’t seem so far off; it felt incredibly close.

You were on the verge of realizing your dream and had a wonderful boyfriend in your life. Everything was falling into place, and your life was almost perfect.

As you shared stories about how your dinner at Harry's mother's house went, two familiar faces approached your booth.

“Danilo! Bruno!” you exclaimed with excitement.

"Ciao, cara mia!” Danilo greeted you with a warm hug.

“I've missed you so much! How have you been?” you laughed, reminiscing.

“You won't believe it but Jack sent Melanie to a religious camp for young adults, and it’s been blissfully quiet at the manor. We're all finally finding some peace."

You sighed, “Damn it, Jack. He will never change.”

“Great boss, terrible dad,” he chuckled.

“Hmm, molto delizioso! Good job, cara mia,” Bruno chimed in as he sampled one of your cupcakes.

“I learned from the best,” you replied with a playful wink.

“I taught you well,” he grinned with pride.

Danilo let out an awkward laugh. “How can you claim that after just a few months? I’ve taught her countless tricks during our three years together, right, honey? I'm a master chef after all.” he said, narrowing his eyes.

You were about to respond when Bruno cut in again, “You mean a master chef at being jealous, Danilo? What she learned from me equates to five years of experience, not just three. I sped up her internship.” he added with a smug grin.

In that moment, the two began bickering in their native language. Zoe leaned closer to you. “Are they always like this?”

“I've seen them argue over the phone, but I’m shocked they are worse in person,” you chuckled.

By evening, you felt thankful for Danilo and Bruno’s company; their presence made the long day feel more bearable. You checked your phone but found no messages from Harry. Unlike yesterday, when his busy schedule hadn’t stopped him from sending silly texts that brightened your day, today was different. You opened the messaging app to find your lunchtime selfie still unread with a note:

Sopapilla pie is a hit at our booth today. Thanks for the idea ol'man.

Maybe he was just too busy to answer, you thought. Lost in your thoughts, Zoe’s voice broke through, “You need to see this,” she said, her expression anxious as she handed you her phone.

Nervously, you took it, bracing yourself. The screen displayed a tabloid article that sent your heart racing.

Is Castillofunds.co going under? Shares of Harry Castillo’s company have taken a dramatic nosedive, a major player in NYC's Financial District!

The next piece of news hit even harder.

Tense moments at Castillofunds headquarters. After the company lost shares quickly, founding CEOs Harry Castillo and his childhood friend Gerardo Armada reportedly got into a heated argument.

“Oh no. Harry,” you murmured, heart racing. You immediately dialed his cell, but it went straight to voicemail. You tried calling Oliver next, but he didn’t pick up either.

Anxiety wrapped around your entire body. What could have happened? Yesterday, Harry hadn’t said much; there hadn’t been time for a proper talk. How could he keep something so serious under wraps? Or, if he wasn’t aware, how could he fail to see the company spiraling down? Questions raced through your mind, and for a moment, you just wanted to escape and get to him. Your anxiety was overwhelming, and a sick feeling settled in your stomach. With Zoe and Danilo by your side, you asked them if they could cover for you at the booth while you stepped away. Thankfully, they agreed without hesitation.

You needed to reach Harry; you were worried about him.

As you made your way to the subway, your phone buzzed with a text message. You opened it right away, and your heart sank—it was from Alan.

Your boyfriend's downfall has begun. Just so you know, honey, this is only the beginning.

You froze, feeling a mix of anger and shock hit you as you remembered your last conversation with him.

That bastard.

Of course, he was behind this.

But no matter what he did, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You believed Harry's company would weather this storm.

Every company faces tough times, right?

When you arrived at the company building, you were taken aback. A furious crowd had gathered, waving banners and shouting slogans, while paparazzi filmed the chaos that was unfolding. Security was struggling to maintain control.

But things got even worse.

One of the paparazzi caught sight of you and pointed, drawing the attention of all the cameras. You felt frozen; you had never experienced anything like this before. Well, there was that one time with Melanie, but usually, the spotlight was on her, not you. 

But now, the roles had flipped. 

They all rushed toward you, and the questions began to come flooding in like bombs.

"Miss, is it true your boyfriend Mr Castillo's company is on the verge of bankruptcy?" 

"Will this financial mess affect your relationship?" 

"Did Mr. Castillo and Mr. Armada actually get into a fight?"

"Is it true that Mr. Armada is unable to pay his gambling debts and has been siphoning funds from the company?" 

"What’s your take on all this?"

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond.

Suddenly, Oliver’s voice broke through the crowd. He reached you, grabbing your arm, and together, you hurried into the building, security guards ushering you past the relentless paparazzi and shouting crowd.

Just as the security team managed to slam the doors shut, you turned to Oliver. “Where’s Harry?”

“He's upstairs. Come on,” he replied, guiding you to the elevator.

“Ollie, what’s going on? Where did all this come from?”

He let out a troubled sigh as he pressed the button for the office floor. It was clear he was feeling the weight of the situation. “Gerardo. In Harry's absence, he got involved in illegal betting and gambling, attempting to cover his debts using company resources. He tried to bail out the company with post-dated checks, hoping Harry wouldn’t find out when he returned to NYC. But it backfired horribly. We’ve been trying to figure out how the finance and accounting teams missed this, but it seems part of the larger scheme.”

“What do you mean?”

“Alan has been deliberately concealing his identity while orchestrating the issuance of post-dated checks. The finance team, the accounting department, even the last company we did business with—he’s got them all in his pocket. It looks like he’s been plotting against us for a while. Gerardo fell right into his trap. He’s messed everything up. I can’t imagine how we’ll pull through this; we’re backed into a corner.”

Your chest tightened, and dread washed over you as the elevator reached the floor with Harry’s office.

The reminder of Alan's text kept bothering you, making you feel pretty guilty.

How did you underestimate him like that?

It all made sense now why Maria was acting so strange that day. You wished you had talked about it with Harry.

As you approached the office, you spotted Harry inside, deep in conversation with his lawyers and PR team.

Your heart sank.

It wasn't only his sad condition that concerned you; there was a wound marring the edge of his eyebrow. The paparazzi’s reports were true—he had been in a fight. Oliver slipped into the office without you noticing, as your attention was fixed on Harry's face. He leaned in and whispered something in Harry’s ear, prompting him to turn and look at you. When your eyes met, you offered him a weak smile, but it faltered as he didn’t return it.

The meeting wrapped up, and everyone filed out, looking grim. Harry stepped toward you.

“What are you doing here?”

Your hand instinctively reached out to his face, gently examining the small band-aid over his eyebrow. “I was worried. Are you okay?”

He sighed, weariness evident in his voice. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine,” he replied, lacking conviction. Taking your hand, he brushed your hair back with a faint smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

Making your way to the car was a daunting task; the paparazzi and remaining crowd persisted with their incessant questions and shouts until you finally managed to slip inside. As the car pulled away, you noticed the writing on the protesters' banner.

WE ARE HERE, WHERE IS YOUR CONSCIENCE?

YOU TOOK OUR DREAMS, AT LEAST GIVE US OUR MONEY BACK.

GIVE BACK OUR KIDS' FUTURE.

WE DEMAND JUSTICE.

You couldn't bear to watch any longer; it was just too frustrating. The sadness etched on Harry's face filled you with sorrow. Who knows how deeply he must be feeling all this? He chatted on the phone the whole way, but it seemed like everything was spiraling out of control. You didn't want to overwhelm him with questions, so you kept quiet; he was already struggling enough. You had asked him to take you to the fair after leaving Zoe there alone. Although you didn’t invite him to stay since he was feeling down, you agreed to meet up at home afterward. As the fair wrapped up, you should have felt happy that everything you cooked at the booth was cleared out. The attention had been great, but your thoughts were consumed with Harry. Nothing else seemed important while he was struggling through such a difficult time.

When you came home and saw him sitting at the counter, sipping whisky, you had planned to talk about the shop, but those thoughts quickly faded. Instead, your attention shifted to the glass he held. “Harry, how much have you had?”

The bottle was nearly half-empty.

"Hmm..." Looking up at you, he pursed his lips and held up his fingers—first one, then two, and finally all five on his palm. You chuckled at his expression and sighed, taking the glass from his grasp. “That’s enough, ol'man, move your ass.” He reluctantly agreed, allowing you to guide him to the couch, where you both sank down side by side.

“Things aren’t getting any better, are they?” you asked softly.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back as fatigue washed over him. “I’m doing everything I can, but it’s incredibly tough. We have to cancel all our investment deals. We’re left with just the company’s assets to pay the employees. Even if we manage to make it work, what about the victims?Thousands of families are suffering.”

“Can’t the lawyers file a countersuit? Surely there's a way out. We could argue that this is a setup, that the post-dated checks were signed without Gerardo's consent. If we prove Alan has a personal vendetta against you...”

Hearing his name made him open his eyes in irritation. “Lawyers? They’re all in on it. Don’t you get it? There’s no way out!” he shouted, his frustration palpable.

When he noticed the shocked expression on your face, his tone softened. He cupped your face in his hands. “I’m sorry, baby, I...”

You placed your hands over his. “It’s okay. I understand how you feel; you’re angry, tired, hurt. But I truly believe you’ll get through this, I’m sure of it.”

He withdrew his hands and let out a troubled sigh. “I really don’t know; this is way worse than I thought it would be. We’ve been through tough times before, but we always made it work together. I can’t believe he’s been hiding stuff from me. I trusted him completely, and he went behind my back. I just don’t get how he could do that.”

“Alan clearly orchestrated this. He must have lured him into a trap,” you said, deciding it was time to share what you had kept from him. “Harry, I saw Maria that day, talking to Alan.” You frowned, gathering your courage to continue. “She looked upset and asked me not to tell you I saw her. I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner.” You bowed your head, hoping he wouldn’t be too angry.

He lifted your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Baby, that doesn’t matter now. What Gerardo did happened a long time ago. And Maria was probably trying to protect her assets. She must have been thinking about Mia. But I wish you both had been honest with me.”

“I thought it was something personal for her, nothing to do with you, so—”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s not your fault, love. You had nothing to do with this. I’m really sorry, but I’ll have to delay renting the shop for now. I promise that as soon as the economy improves, I’ll make sure to get the shop and hand it over to you.”

You gazed up at him. “Harry, I don’t care about opening the shop under these circumstances. We’ll figure things out, I’m sure of it. Everything will be fine.”

He smiled, resting his forehead against yours. “Thank you. I feel so fortunate to have you by my side. You’re my strength. I love you so much.” He leaned down to kiss you softly.

“Ow, you smell like a liquor store, baby.” you chuckled, standing up and tugging at his hand. “Come on, up you get! Let’s get you in the shower, and then we can hit the hay ol'man. You know what they say—a good night’s sleep can work wonders.”

Suddenly, he swooped you into his arms, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap. “You’re the only remedy I need, mi amor.” He continued kissing you as you made your way to the bathroom together.

The final day of the fair turned out to be far worse than expected. News that had started circulating online was now splashed across TV screens, and conversations about it filled the subway and the streets. Harry was in worse shape than ever, and seeing him like that tugged at your heartstrings, making you feel as if your heart were being squeezed. When his mother, Valeria, called and invited you over to her house, you agreed and left the fair early that day.

Upon arriving at her home, Valeria enveloped you in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face. She spoke of her concern for Harry, saying she felt helpless about not being able to reach him. You tried to comfort her, assuring her that Harry was with you and would remain close. However, you refrained from sharing too many details, as it was clear she was deeply sensitive about her son’s plight. Before you left, she hugged you one last time at the door. “I’m so grateful you’re there for my son. I’ve felt terrible for being unable to leave this house, it’s never been this tough.”

“Valeria, please don’t blame yourself. As for Harry, there’s no need to worry; he’ll be okay. I’ll be by his side and do everything I can to help him through these hard days. We’ll get through this.”

Her eyes glimmered with a mix of gratitude and sorrow as she clasped your hand gently. “Thank you, dear. It eases my heart to know you’re there for him during these days when I can’t be.” You could feel the weight of her worry—like any mother, she was deeply concerned about her son.

Leaving her house and walking down the street, you were set on doing whatever it took to help Harry feel better. You thought about whipping up his favorite dessert or putting on that dress he loved, but first, there was something else you needed to do.

You had to meet Alan.

As you arrived in front of the hotel, you steeled yourself, gathering your courage. Perhaps you could persuade him to reconsider; you weren’t sure, but you knew it was worth a shot. If you could understand his motives, it might help you steer things in the right direction. In this battle, you had to make sure your man didn’t end up losing.

You were ready to do whatever it took to help him overcome all obstacles.

The doorman greeted you with a smile, recognizing you as you entered. Learning that Alan was in his room, you took the elevator to his floor. Nerves crept in as you headed to a hotel room, but you pushed them aside, determined to present a strong front.

As the owner of the hotel, Alan lived in the penthouse on the top floor.

The elevator opened directly into his room, and while you glanced around, feeling uncomfortable in his lavish space, you reminded yourself to stay focused.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

At the sound of his voice, you turned to see him lounging at the bar area, a drink in hand and a smug grin plastered across his face. Dressed in a satin robe, he glanced at his watch. “I expected you earlier; you’ve caught me by surprise,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, then he raised it. “Care for some?”

Asshole was acting as if nothing had happened.

Crossing your arms, you replied, “No, I don’t want anything. Look, whatever you’re doing, just stop it. I get that you want revenge—I lost my mother too—but this won’t bring her back. Besides, Harry is innocent in all this, he didn't deserve-.”

“How can Harry be innocent? That woman is his mother.”

“She’s already lost a daughter. What’s hurting her even going to do for you?”

He shrugged. “At least it gives me some relief. Watching them suffer makes me feel better, just like my mother suffered because of them.”

“Alan, listen—”

“Save your breath, sweetheart. What’s coming is inevitable. The Castillo family will pay for what they’ve done.” He finished his drink, setting the glass down on the counter. “The company was just the beginning. Tomorrow, Harry will lose his penthouse with the breathtaking view due to foreclosure and debts he can’t cover. And soon enough, his mother will lose her house too.”

You frowned. "That woman can't leave her house because of her illness. You can't do that. You can't be so cruel."

As he approached you, the look in his eyes made it clear he could, indeed, be that cruel. "Do you think I care? They deserve whatever’s coming to them. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do."

“It was a mistake to come here,” you said as you turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm to stop you. "But nothing is beyond repair. Maybe you can change this."

A flicker of hope ignited within you. "Me? How? What can I possibly do?"

He smiled, a chilling grin. “Don’t underestimate yourself, sweetheart; you have no idea how much you mean to me.” He reached out, intending to touch your face, but you angrily pushed his hand away.

"Stop it. Just tell me what you want. Oh, let me guess—you want me to break up with Harry?"

He chuckled. “Nah, I’ve changed my mind. I know you won’t leave him, no matter what happens.”

You tried to mask your surprise. “So, what do you want from me?”

“One night." He locked eyes with you. "I want you to spend just one night with me.”

The way he said those words sent a shiver down your spine. The mere idea made your stomach turn. “What kind of sick bastard are you?”

"I'm offering you a choice, and it comes with just one condition, sweetheart. If you don’t comply, you’ll have to watch your man falter and see the heartbreaking news about the Castillo family everywhere. Think it over. Harry's fate is in your hands."

"Do you think I'm an idiot? How can I trust you won't pull a fast one on me?"

He chuckled and leaned closer. "What other options do you have?"

You fell silent, realizing you had none.

"I'll draft a contract between us. I’ll ensure Harry gets everything he needs to stabilize the company’s stock, and I’ll drop the lawsuit. Would that satisfy you?"

Just like that?

That seemed too simple.

"What is this, a telenovela? Will you be satisfied when I sleep with you? Will you leave your revenge just like that?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Harry's been shaken up enough, and he's going to have a hard time putting the company back together, watching his misery that's enough to satisfy me. But of course as soon as you volunteered to satisfy my needs-"

You slapped him in the face. “You piece of shit!”

He put his hand where you hit him and smiled wickedly. “So you're not accepting my offer?”

Fuckin' asshole. 

You squinted at him, your whole body shaking with anger. "I would rather spend the night with Joffrey Baratheon. Yeah, I know he's a fictional character, but at least I could beat the bastard up and my night would be more interesting.” you said and turned around to leave. 

“Suit yourself,” he said behind you. "But remember, whatever happens to Harry next will be your fault. And about those telenovelas... They may be exaggerated and clichéd, but know that in the end they're always have a point.”

The next day, things took a turn for a lot worse. Just when you thought it couldn't get any shitty, everything spiraled out of control. The streets outside the company overflowed with an army of paparazzi, their cameras clicking like a relentless drumbeat, while protesters shouted, their voices rising in a tumultuous chorus of anger and despair. Even Forbes magazine, which had once celebrated Harry on its cover, was now reporting that his company was teetering on the brink of bankruptcy and that he had slipped off the list of the wealthiest people. When Maria and Mia came to visit you one evening, you watched them through the door as they talked about losing their home. They were filled with sadness and desperation. You couldn’t help but wonder what else could possibly go wrong, and then it did. The Feds and the SEC even IBRC got involved.

That’s when the last text from Alan arrived on your phone.

This is your last chance to save your man.

But it wasn't just the urgency in the text that spurred you to act; it was the sight of Harry himself. He looked so lost, so deeply unhappy that your heart ached for him. Maybe it was reckless, stupid, maybe he’d come to resent you for this decision—or maybe, just maybe, this was the only way to pull him back from the brink.

He would understand eventually, wouldn’t he?

That night, as you lovingly caressed his face while he slept beside you, your mind raced with turmoil. He had increasingly sought solace in alcohol, and fatigue clung to him like a shadow. He was your everything; you would do anything for him, anything.

The next morning, after preparing breakfast—he barely touched it—you sent Alan a text as Harry left for work.

Your fingers shook as you typed, tears in your eyes.

Tonight.

That evening, you slipped into the underwear and the dress you knew you would tear them off and throw them into the trash afterwards. You wrote a note to Harry, left it on the counter, and stepped out of the house.

But first, you had to see someone.

Jack.

You needed to prepare yourself for the big fish that wanted to swallow you whole, instead of being just another fish on the line.

It was around ten o'clock when you finally arrived at the hotel. Your heart raced with nervousness; you felt like a sacrificial lamb, and the thought of what could happen made you feel disgusted. How could you allow another man to touch you, especially someone you despised?

When you caught sight of the elevator, fear gripped you so tightly that you almost turned back.

But no, you had to summon your courage.

You were doing this for the man you loved. All Alan had to do was sign the contract you had arranged through Jack's lawyer.

You were ready to pay the price for that—a straightforward agreement. Seemingly simple, but a gnawing sense of dread gnawed at you from within.

You clutched the belt of your trench coat tightly as the elevator ascended, your nausea returning. Perhaps it was simply the tension building inside you. The elevator bell startled you, and your palms were slick with sweat. As you stepped inside, you felt timid at first, but upon seeing Alan and his unnecessary smug smile, you lifted your chin and approached him with purpose.

“There you are,” he said, his victory grin irritating you even more.

Taking a deep breath, you retrieved the documents from your bag and laid them on the counter. “Sign it now.”

He glanced at the papers. “What’s this? No kissing, no hugging—this is the kind of stuff escorts ask for, or somethin'?”

You shot him a withering glare.

"Well, I already had these documents prepared, sweetheart," he said, showing his briefcase.

“I don’t trust you, which is why I asked Jack to draft them. Sign them or I’ll go back,” you stated firmly, trying to keep your expression icy and unyielding.

He chuckled. “Hmm, clever. Fine, but I’d like to read them first.” He settled onto the barstool and began examining the pages. “There are some carefully crafted clauses in this contract that will benefit Harry's company and the entire Castillo family. But what about you? Don’t you demand anything?”

You understood his meaning but tried not to care. You had already made up your mind. “Are you going to sign it or not?”

He looked at you with a serious expression. “If I have to pay a price to get you out of those clothes, then so be it, honey,” he replied, starting to sign each page one by one.

A mixture of relief and anxiety washed over you. Your heart raced at the thought of what was to come, and you felt your courage slip away.

But there was no turning back now.

Once he finished signing, he slid the documents back across the counter towards you. As you reached for the folder, he seized your hand and pulled you closer. “I’ve done my part; now it’s your turn.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you nearly burst into tears, but you steadied yourself. Putting the folder in your bag, you turned to him. “Just one thing: Harry can’t find out about this.”

He nodded, his impatience growing. “Okay, I swear.”

You untied the belt of your trench coat, took it off and put it on the chair. You were emotionless looking at him, or tried to be.

You felt like you were stuck in quicksand and you were sinking deeper and deeper as he approached you, staring at you like a hungry wolf.

You closed your eyes tightly when he reached out and touched your cheek. You tried to suppress the urge to sob as he slid his hand slowly from your cheek to your neck, your body shaking. Suddenly he wrapped an arm around you, pulled you to him and pressed his lips hard against yours. Instinctively you closed your lips tightly, it was so disgusting. You placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away while he kissed you more eagerly. 

But then suddenly he paused and pulled back. Only then did you realize that you were crying.

He looked at you licking his lips, grinning with disappointment. 

“Okay, that's it.”

You looked at him with your eyes wide open. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Wh-what?"

He walked back to the bar, sat down and poured himself a drink. You had a lot of questions, but the first thing you thought was that he backed out of the deal because you didn't kiss him back. "You signed the papers, you can't back out now."

"I’m not backing out; that was the agreement between us. It's done."

"But you said-"

"I prefer a woman who is eager to sleep with me," he said, looking at you angrily. “I'm not a fucking rapist. Now go, leave me alone,” he said and sipped his drink.

Confused but relieved, you picked up your trench coat and put it on. He didn't even look back as you walked to the elevator. But that was good, you sighed deeply to yourself. You hadn't imagined getting out of here like this.

With a strange sense of relief.

But then you remembered that bastard kissed you. "Ugh, that's disgusting. I should wash my mouth out with soap until it hurts. Eww.” you muttered to yourself while frantically wiping your lips with a wet tissue.

It wasn’t yet past midnight when you stepped into the dim corridor leading to Harry’s apartment. The elevator ride felt surreal, each floor ticking by as hope bloomed in your chest. You were grateful to return intact, clutching the crucial documents that could save both him and the company. Everything would be fine from here on out. You just had to sweep tonight's events under the rug, even if their stench lingered.

As you pushed open the apartment door, a wave of confusion washed over you. There, shrouded in the shadows, sat Harry, motionless on the counter.

When had he returned?

Oliver had mentioned he would be out late, and the stark absence of lights only heightened the weird atmosphere. Hesitant steps carried you closer, but the heaviness of your night weighed heavily on your mind. You inhaled deeply, attempting to steady your nerves, and called out softly, “Harry?”

His gaze pierced through the dark, and it made you falter. You had expected to find him with a drink in his hand, yet he appeared unsettlingly sober. On the counter, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, your note rested beside an ornate ring box.

Something felt off.

“Baby, are you okay?” you ventured, your voice quavered as it broke the silence.

He absently glanced at his phone, muttering, “You’re back early.”

A lump lodged in your throat as you scrambled for your thoughts.

“‘I’ll be with Zoe. I might stay with her if it’s late,’” he recited, pointing at your note.

Clearing your throat, you forced out, “Well, yes. We finished up early and decided to head home.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, showing you his phone screen.

Your heart dropped like a stone.

There on the screen was a photo of you lingering in the hotel lobby, captured just hours ago.

Who the fuck... How?

You closed your eyes tightly, willing yourself to choose right words.

“Harry, let me explain,” you began, but he silenced you, lifting the ring box instead.

“This…” he opened the box slowly, revealing a stunning antique diamond ring that sparkled amidst the gloom, “was from my mother. I had intended to give this to you, to propose... later.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, awe mingling with pain.

“It is. It was. Everything was beautiful—until this night,” he spat.

“Wh-what do you mean by that?”

He stood up abruptly, his grip seizing your shoulders with a force that was both desperate and heartbreaking. “How could you go to him?”

“Harry, just listen. I... I did it for you,” you implored, your eyes wide with plea.

His eyebrows arched in disbelief as he tightened his grip. “For me?”

“Yes! Everything I did was for you.” You fished your bag and pulled out the papers, placing them before him. “I was going to give these to Oliver, but now that you know everything, they’re yours. Alan signed them all. You can save your company.”

“Fuck the company!” he bellowed, the sound echoing off the walls and making you jump. The fury in his eyes pierced right through you as he clutched your shoulders fiercely. “You were all I cared about! The company, everything else—it didn’t matter as long as you were with me. But you…” He shook you roughly, tears spilling over onto your cheeks. “How could you do this to me?”

“Harry, listen... You were so sad, and I thought—I thought I could help...” you swallowed, your voice breaking.

“What did you expect would happen? Did you really think I’d be fine with you sleeping with my enemy?”

“Please... I thought that was my only option. It was all I could think of to help you.”

He finally released you, his hands trembling as they fell away. Tears welled up in his eyes, catching the light like tiny gems. “Even if it meant losing me, everything we have?"

You sniffled, tears flowing freely now. “All I did was love you and think about you.”

“You were thinking of me? Yet you didn’t have me in mind when you went to him, did you? Maybe you were too eager,” he said, the sharpness of his words cutting deep into your heart.

In a moment of raw pain, you slapped him.

With the impact, he turned his head to the side, eyes squeezed shut, and sighed deeply.

How could he say something like that to you?

You waited for him to apologize.

But he didn't.

Did it truly not matter what you had done for him?

How could he be so cold?

With a shattered heart and a deep breath, you managed to get the words out.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

The simple farewell fell from your lips like a final breath as you turned and walked toward the elevator.

And just like that.

It was over.

He might have regain his company and his reputation, but in the end, he had lost you.

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[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗡𝗢 𝗠𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗦 𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗢, 𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥 carlos sainz jr. x finace! fem! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . there's a tktok trend going around, and what better way to participate by pranking your very own Spanish fiancé? (508 words)

( general master list | more of carlos sainz ) ( requests )

You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Carlos move effortlessly around the stove, stirring something that smelled absolutely divine. His back was to you, broad and strong, muscles flexing under his fitted shirt as he focused on dinner. The perfect time to strike.

You had just seen the TikTok trend—wives pranking their husbands by pretending they couldn’t pay rent—and the reactions had been priceless. Some men panicked, some immediately offered money, some went into full provider mode. Knowing Carlos, you had a feeling he’d fall into the last category.

Taking a deep breath, you schooled your face into worry. “Carlos…” you started hesitantly.

“Sí, amor?” He didn’t turn around, too focused on seasoning the food.

“I—um—I have a problem,” you mumbled, playing with the hem of your shirt.

That got his attention. He turned his head slightly, brows furrowing. “What happened?”

You sighed dramatically. “I forgot to tell you, but rent is due today, and I don’t have enough to cover it.”

Carlos blinked. Then blinked again. His expression shifted, confusion etched into every feature. “¿Qué?”

“I don’t have enough money for rent,” you repeated, biting your lip for extra effect.

The spoon in his hand clattered into the pot. He fully turned to you now, eyes wide with alarm. “Wait, wait, espera—¿cómo que no tienes suficiente? ¿Quién te está quitando dinero?” His voice rose in concern, and suddenly, he was muttering in rapid Spanish, completely forgetting English.

“Amor, tú no deberías estar pagando el alquiler en absoluto. ¿Quién te está cobrando? ¿Es tu banco? ¿Un error? ¿Necesitamos llamar a alguien? Dios mío, si alguien se está aprovechando de ti, juro que—”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately to hold in your laughter as Carlos continued spiraling, pacing the kitchen with his hands on his hips. He switched between analyzing your finances in his head and angrily plotting revenge against whoever was supposedly extorting you.

Five minutes passed.

Carlos was still muttering about calling his accountant and possibly suing your landlord when he finally turned back to you—only to freeze when he saw the wide, mischievous grin on your face.

His eyes narrowed.

“Was this a prank?”

You burst out laughing, nodding as you held your stomach.

Carlos exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before throwing the kitchen towel onto the counter. “Ay, Dios mío.”

Still giggling, you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “I saw it on TikTok! It’s a trend—wives pranking their husbands with the rent thing. Your reaction was amazing.”

Carlos shook his head, his hands gripping your waist. “No me hagas esto, amor,” he scolded, still slightly breathless from the panic attack you just gave him. “You almost killed me. I was ready to sell my watch collection and fight a landlord.”

You laughed harder. “I love you.”

Carlos groaned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, but I swear, if you pull something like this again…”

“You’ll still love me.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “Unfortunately, sí.”

[magnagaruzenmon]

Monster Mash

Dio said to go for it so I did, but Dio is also loud and proud so I took a little dig at him.

“Fuck Nayeon you’re so tight,” you groan as her walls strangle your cock.

“Fuck yes keep going Juzo,” Nayeon moans as a thin layer of sweat dusts her body while you continue fucking her. You spank her fat ass as she cums all over your cock but you keep going chasing your high. Nayeon moans as you keep railing her. You watch as her Ass jiggles deliciously while you just carry on.

Spurred by an intrusive thought you spank her ass. Nayeon moans elated as her walls tighten around you even further causing you to finally explode inside her.

You paint her walls white as ropes of your cum fills her womb

“Fuck Juzou you came so much,” Nayeon said as you pulled out

You smile and said, “well I had to show off a little for my favorite bunny,”

Nayeon smiles back and says “you always are a show off and a big one,” as the two of you bask in bed you hear the door open Daigo and Jihyo your shared housemates walk in. You could tell by Daigo’s heavy footsteps and tired groan and Jihyo’s whines.

You and Nayeon change into your comfiest clothes before heading over to where your friends — and fellow hunters — are lounging. As you approach, you notice a fresh scar cutting across the bridge of Daigo’s nose and another, lighter but no less telling, peeking across Jihyo’s chest.

As usual, they’re already at it, snapping at each other like a pair of magnets caught between push and pull.

“That’s the last time I let you rope me into one of your death wishes,” Daigo says, scowling — but there’s a softness in it, like he’s annoyed she even asked.

“Oh, please,” Jihyo huffs, arms crossed. “You act like I begged you.”

Daigo turns to her, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Daigo, I need my favorite hunting horn hunter to help me~” he mimics, with an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes.

Jihyo groans and pokes him hard in the shoulder. “Yeah, because your ego’s so massive you wouldn’t say yes otherwise.”

“My ego’s not that big,” Daigo mutters, looking genuinely hurt for a second.

Jihyo catches it, and for a heartbeat, she falters — before she covers it up with a snort. “Please. Ever since you mastered hunting horn, you’ve been unbearable.”

Nayeon bumps your shoulder, leaning in close enough to whisper, “Do we just… let them go at it until they realize they’re one insult away from making out?”

You laugh under your breath. “Nah. They’d kill each other first. Probably while making out.”

Nayeon muffles a giggle as the two of you step in.

“Alright, what happened this time?” you ask, hands on your hips.

Daigo immediately jumps in, eager to get his version out first. “She asked me to back her up on a Gore Magala hunt, and surprise surprise, a Deviljho showed up out of nowhere.”

Jihyo gives him a long, slow look. “And yet, here we are. Alive. You’re welcome.”

Daigo groans dramatically. “I hate you.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining you got two new hunting horns out of it. You’re welcome again,” Jihyo says sweetly, batting her lashes at him.

Daigo looks skyward, as if praying for strength. “You know I prefer my Magnamalo, Malzeno, and Gaismagorm weapons anyway,” he grumbles.

“Alright, enough!” Nayeon says sharply, clapping her hands once like a teacher breaking up a particularly stubborn pair of kids. “Save it for the next hunt.”

Daigo and Jihyo exchange one last glare — but the corners of their mouths twitch, just slightly, like they’re both fighting a smile neither of them fully understands.

After Nayeon’s sharp clap silences the bickering, you exchange a look with her — one that needs no words. The plan is instantly clear.

You clear your throat and announce, way too casually, “Alright, lunch time! And, good news — you two are partners today.”

Daigo frowns. “Partners? For what?”

Nayeon smiles sweetly. “For lunch, dummy. You and Jihyo are eating together. Alone. As a team-building exercise.”

Jihyo blinks, taken off guard. “Since when do we team-build at lunch?”

“Since now,” you say, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her toward the kitchen area. Nayeon does the same with Daigo, ignoring his half-hearted protests.

“You guys clearly need some… quality time,” Nayeon adds, shoving Daigo just hard enough that he stumbles into step beside Jihyo.

“We don’t need—” Daigo starts.

“Don’t care!” you and Nayeon say at the same time.

You snag a couple of pre-packed lunch trays off the counter, slam them into their hands, and all but shove them onto the couch, plopping the food down between them.

“There. Bond. Or at least eat without killing each other,” you say brightly.

Daigo looks at Jihyo like he’d rather face a raging Zinogre. Jihyo glares right back, eyebrows raised like you move first, coward.

For a second, it’s dead silent — just awkward staring.

Then Jihyo grabs her chopsticks, stabs a piece of meat aggressively, and mutters, “Fine. Eating. Bonding. Whatever.”

Daigo grumbles something under his breath but digs in too, poking his food like it personally offended him.

You and Nayeon retreat a few steps, watching from a safe distance like proud scientists observing an unpredictable experiment.

“They’re totally gonna fall in love over grilled meat, right?” Nayeon whispers.

“If they don’t kill each other with chopsticks first,” you whisper back.

Sure enough, a minute later Jihyo is shoving a side dish toward Daigo, muttering, “Here, you need more protein. Maybe it’ll fix your bad attitude.”

Daigo, mouth full, scowls — but he takes it.

And when he thinks no one’s looking, he nudges the last piece of grilled fish onto Jihyo’s plate in return.

Nayeon beams. “Operation: Make Them Sit Still and Realize They’re In Love is a success.”

You just laugh and silently start counting down how long it’ll take before one of them throws a napkin at the other.

⸻

Would you also like a “part two” where they actually have a few minutes of weird almost flirting over food before more chaos erupts?

(Or if you prefer it slower burn, we can leave it with just awkward glances and tiny grudging gestures like this one.)

Let me know what vibe you’re aiming for!

The sounds of clinking chopsticks and reluctant chewing fill the room. You and Nayeon pretend to be busy on your phones across the room, though you’re both obviously eavesdropping.

For a while, it’s quiet between Daigo and Jihyo — which, for them, is practically a miracle.

Then Jihyo pauses, frowning at her plate.

“…Why aren’t you eating the spicy pork?” she asks, poking at the untouched slices still on Daigo’s side.

Daigo shrugs without looking at her. “Not hungry for it.”

She narrows her eyes. “You love spicy pork.”

Another shrug. “Changed my mind.”

Jihyo doesn’t buy it for a second. She watches him for a moment longer, then, without warning, reaches over and plucks a piece off his plate.

“You’re seriously leaving all my favorites?” she accuses, chewing suspiciously.

Daigo finally looks at her, caught. His chopsticks hover in midair before he sighs and mutters, almost too quietly to hear,

“I always leave them for you.”

Jihyo freezes, the realization landing harder than a barrel bomb.

She swallows, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands — or her face — or the weird fluttery feeling in her chest. “Since when?” she asks, trying to sound accusing but it comes out… softer.

Daigo shrugs again, but there’s a slight pink creeping up the back of his neck. “Since… a while.” He stabs his rice a little too hard. “You’re picky about food when you’re tired. Figured you should get what you like.”

Jihyo stares at him, all her usual snark short-circuiting.

“You’re such an idiot,” she says — but there’s no bite in it this time.

Daigo grins, lopsided and a little smug now that she’s flustered. “Takes one to know one.”

You nudge Nayeon with your elbow and whisper, “Five bucks says they’ll be dating by next hunt.”

Nayeon smirks. “You’re on.”

Meanwhile, Jihyo, still pretending very badly not to be affected, mumbles, “…Thanks, dummy,” and starts picking at the spicy pork like she’s suddenly shy.

And for once, Daigo doesn’t argue. He just watches her, and for a second — a real second — they’re actually quiet. Comfortable.

Until, of course, Jihyo flicks a piece of rice at his forehead.

Balance restored.

After lunch, Nayeon ropes Jihyo into helping her reorganize supplies — leaving you to drag Daigo outside for some training.

The sun beats down on the practice field, empty except for the two of you. Daigo rolls his shoulders, spinning his hunting horn once before slinging it onto his back. His movements are quick, sharp — distracted.

You stretch lazily, eyeing him as he runs through some warm-ups. You can tell he’s not fully there. He’s been like this for a while now — tense in a way that even fighting doesn’t shake loose.

After a few swings, you speak up.

“So. You gonna tell her?”

Daigo stops mid-swing. “Tell who what?”

You grin. “Don’t play dumb. Jihyo. About how you’re completely gone for her.”

He turns, scowling. “I’m not—”

“You are,” you cut him off easily. You plant your weapon into the dirt and lean against it. “You dream about her, you save her favorite food, you look at her like she’s the last campfire in a blizzard. Come on, man.”

Daigo looks away, jaw tight. “Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t like me like that.”

You roll your eyes. “No, you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared,” he snaps, a little too fast.

You raise a brow, not letting up. “Then why are you still pretending?”

Daigo exhales slowly, like he’s trying to force the words out.

“She’s been hunting since she was, what, ten?” he mutters. “A prodigy. Everyone talks about it like it’s fate. She’s smart, she’s quick, she’s good at everything she touches. And me? I didn’t even start until I was fifteen. Had to scrape for every skill I got.” He shrugs stiffly. “She deserves better than some guy still trying to catch up.”

You watch him quietly for a second, the tension practically bleeding off of him.

“She doesn’t see you like that,” you say finally. “You’re not some rookie kid to her, Daigo. You’re the guy who’s stood by her in every fight. The guy she trusts to have her back. That counts for more than you think.”

He doesn’t respond, just grips his hunting horn tighter.

You step closer and slap his shoulder — firm but not unkind.

“Look, I get it. You feel like you have to prove yourself. But you’re fighting a battle that’s already over. She’s already picked you, idiot. You’re the one who’s too stubborn to see it.”

Daigo’s mouth tightens. For a second, you think he’s going to argue — but he doesn’t. He just looks away toward the building where Jihyo disappeared, muscles drawn tight.

You sigh.

“Keep hiding if you want. But don’t come crying to me when some other guy’s brave enough to say what you wouldn’t.”

Daigo lets out a short, bitter laugh and lifts his hunting horn again, starting a new set of practice swings — faster, heavier, like he’s trying to beat the feelings out of himself.

You let him.

But you catch the way his eyes flick toward the door again — quick, automatic — and you know your words hit their mark.

Maybe not today.

But soon.

While you and Daigo are outside training, Jihyo slams another crate down a little harder than necessary.

Nayeon raises a brow from where she’s sorting through herbs. “Okay, talk.”

Jihyo huffs, brushing her hair back from her face. “It’s Daigo.”

Nayeon snorts. “Shock.”

Jihyo glares half-heartedly, but the frustration in her chest feels like it’s about to boil over.

“I just— I can’t believe how fast I’ve started relying on him,” she says, pacing between stacks of supplies. “Like, one minute he’s this stubborn, stiff-necked rookie trying to prove he knows everything, and the next… I’m looking for him before every hunt without even thinking about it.”

Nayeon leans back against a crate, letting her vent.

“And it’s not just that he’s good,” Jihyo continues, throwing her hands up. “He’s reliable. If he says he’s got your back, you don’t have to second guess it. He’ll be there. No matter what.”

She stops, scowling at the ground. “Even when it’s reckless. Especially when it’s reckless.”

Nayeon smiles slightly. “Sounds like you like him.”

Jihyo ignores her.

“What drives me crazy is how he’s always competing with me. Like he’s got something to prove every time we spar or go on a hunt. It’s exhausting. I’m not trying to beat him. I’m not keeping score.” She crosses her arms tight across her chest. “But he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of a Gammoth. And he’s so stupidly proud— he doesn’t even see what’s right in front of him.”

Nayeon watches her carefully. “Maybe he thinks you’ll stop needing him if he’s not good enough.”

Jihyo hesitates, pacing slowing.

“You’ve been doing this since you were what, ten?” Nayeon says. “He started way later. Probably feels like he has to catch up. Or you’ll outgrow him.”

Jihyo sits heavily on a crate, feeling the weight of the conversation settle on her.

Her fingers trace the scar on her thigh absently — a gift from a bad hunt two years ago.

“He learned the hunting horn for me, you know,” she says quietly. “He didn’t even like support weapons at first. Thought they were clunky and slow. But he saw how much I relied on buffs and healing… and just— picked it up.”

Nayeon raises an eyebrow, but stays silent.

“And when I got hurt last year?” Jihyo’s voice softens even more. “He found out it was an elder dragon, but the guild couldn’t figure out which one. So he hunted all three possibilities down. Alone.”

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it — just disbelief and something aching underneath.

“I watched him come back, half-dead, carrying three elder crowns like it was nothing. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do.”

Nayeon’s face softens too.

“In my eyes,” Jihyo says, “he’s already more than good enough. He’s my equal. Maybe more than that.”

Her hands tighten into fists. “But he’s so busy trying to prove something to me, he can’t see that he already has.”

There’s a long silence between them.

Finally, Nayeon says gently, “Maybe you’re both a little blind.”

Jihyo lets out a frustrated breath and rests her forehead against her knees.

“I’m so sick of competing with him,” she mumbles. “I just want him to stand next to me without thinking he has to earn it every time.”

Nayeon smirks and tosses a clean rag at her.

“Maybe if you stopped glaring at him like you want to strangle him half the time, he’d get the hint.”

Jihyo groans, muffling her voice against her arms.

Nayeon just laughs and goes back to sorting herbs, leaving Jihyo to stew in the messy realization that maybe, just maybe, she’s been as bad at showing her feelings as he has.

Later that afternoon, the four of you head to the guild to check the new assignments. The main hall is buzzing with hunters clanking weapons, sharpening gear, and exchanging half-shouted stories from their latest hunts.

As you’re scanning the quest board, you catch a few hushed voices nearby. Their words aren’t loud, but they’re sharp enough to cut through the noise if you’re listening.

“Guy’s still hanging around Jihyo, huh?” one younger hunter mutters, laughing under his breath.

“Talk about riding coattails,” another says. “You’d think he’d be embarrassed. She’s in a different league.”

You glance toward Daigo. He stands stiffly, pretending not to hear, but the way his hands tighten around the strap of his hunting horn case gives him away.

Then, stepping out from a group of hunters polishing their armor, comes Natty — a girl maybe a year or two younger than Daigo. You recognize her immediately.

Natty was another prodigy, one of the hunters who started training at ten years old. She’d risen through the ranks fast, her record sparkling after a few high-profile hunts under Jihyo’s mentorship.

She tosses her short ponytail over her shoulder and smirks, her eyes flickering between Daigo and Jihyo.

“Still clinging to Jihyo, Daigo?” she says, voice light but cutting. “I mean, sure, you’re decent. But without her? You’d still be a mid-rank hunter wondering why you’re not good enough.”

You feel the air shift, and a muscle jumps in Daigo’s jaw.

It’s not even true — Daigo had already been a high-rank hunter when he met Jihyo. He just wasn’t a prodigy. He had to earn it the long way, with blood, broken bones, and relentless work.

Before you can open your mouth, Jihyo beats you to it.

Her voice cuts clean through the guild hall.

“Say that again.”

Natty flinches slightly at the venom in Jihyo’s tone.

“You think Daigo’s nothing without me?” Jihyo steps forward, her eyes burning. “You’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

The guild hall quiets as everyone turns to look.

“Daigo’s the reason I’m still alive. He’s fought beside me, not behind me. When I got hurt and no one could tell me which elder dragon was responsible, he hunted down three of them — alone.”

You watch Natty falter under Jihyo’s glare. This wasn’t the casual brush-off she’d been expecting.

“And you know what?” Jihyo continues, voice steady, deadly serious. “He learned the hunting horn because I needed someone to cover my blind spots. Because he wanted to protect me better.”

Daigo shifts beside you, visibly uncomfortable with all the attention, but Jihyo doesn’t stop.

“He’s stubborn and he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of a Gammoth, sure. But he’s reliable. He’s fierce. And he’s my partner — because he earned it. Not because I handed it to him.”

There’s a stunned silence.

Natty looks like she wants to say something — anything — but thinks better of it and backs off with a scoff.

Jihyo turns back to your group, her expression tight with lingering anger. She grabs Daigo’s wrist — not rough, but firm — and pulls him a few steps away from the crowd.

You and Nayeon trail after them, exchanging impressed looks.

Daigo finally mutters, still not quite meeting Jihyo’s eyes, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Jihyo scoffs. “Yes, I did. Don’t let idiots like that rewrite your story.”

There’s a beat of awkward, heavy silence between them, thick with everything they’re too stubborn to say.

Nayeon, ever the mood-breaker, leans in with a wicked grin. “You two wanna kiss now or save it for after the next hunt?”

You can’t help but laugh as both Daigo and Jihyo immediately turn red, each mumbling furious denials.

But something’s changed — something lighter, warmer — even if neither of them sees it yet.

You’re still laughing when Natty smirks and says, loud enough for everyone to hear,

“Well, if you’re so good, why don’t you hunt a Dire Miralis by yourself?”

The room went deathly still — like a Barrioth had slashed through the air and ripped all the warmth out of the guild house.

Every hunter nearby stopped pretending not to listen. Eyes shifted. Boots scraped against the floor. The Dire Miralis — a monster so powerful entire villages had been lost to its flames — wasn’t something you just suggested to someone as a joke.

You see Daigo stiffen beside you, his whole body going rigid. His hand tightens around the strap of his horn case until his knuckles go white.

“Fine,” Daigo said, voice low, steady, and absolutely deadly.

The guild house seemed to freeze even further, the weight of his words sinking into everyone’s bones.

You glance at Jihyo just as she steps forward, her hand instinctively reaching for Daigo’s sleeve.

“Daigo,” she said, voice cracking just slightly with urgency. “You don’t have to do this. I know what the Dire Miralis did. I know it destroyed your home. But you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not after everything you’ve already done.”

Her words hang in the air — sincere, pleading — but Daigo just shrugs her off with a weary, almost hollow smile.

“No one believes I can do it,” he said, looking not at Natty, but somewhere far beyond the guild walls, as if speaking to ghosts only he could see. “But I know I can.”

Jihyo’s breath hitched, and you saw it — the way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her chest tightening as she fought not to reach for him again.

And suddenly, you’re back there —

The first time you ever met Daigo.

You remember how everyone else had watched him like he was a bomb about to go off. The kid from the far-off island — the one swallowed whole by a Dire Miralis. He stood alone in the training yard, armor patched together from salvaged hunts, his expression locked into something colder than ice and hotter than magma.

You remember the way he moved when he fought — not with skill, not at first.

But with rage.

An unending, all-consuming fury that roared out of him with every swing of his hammer, like he was trying to smash the world that had wronged him into pieces.

He scared people. You weren’t ashamed to admit it.

And then Jihyo had dragged him by the wrist over to you and Nayeon, grinning like she hadn’t just grabbed onto a thunderstorm.

“He’s gonna be great,” she said, beaming up at you both. “Trust me.”

You remember the look in Daigo’s eyes back then — that same storm, barely leashed.

You snap back to the present, watching him now, and realize the truth that punches you in the gut.

The rage never went away.

He just got better at hiding it.

Natty looked caught off guard, like she hadn’t expected him to actually agree, but she quickly masked it with a scoff, turning away with a toss of her head.

Jihyo stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists, the tears still brimming in her eyes as Daigo silently turned toward the quest board, and accepting the quest.

Before anyone could talk him out of it, Daigo grabbed his Malzeno hunting horn, strapped it across his back with a final, heavy motion, and walked out of the guild.

No ceremony. No farewell.

Just silent, unshakable determination.

He was gone for three days.

Three long, excruciating days.

You and Jihyo spent most of that time restlessly pacing the guild halls, checking the quest board for any hint of news, jumping at every hunter who returned through the front gates. You argued over stupid things just to kill the unbearable silence, just to pretend you weren’t imagining the worst.

Only Nayeon kept her cool. Somehow.

She kept reassuring you — no, promising you — that Daigo would be back, safe and sound. Probably with a Dire Miralis scale strapped to his back like it was no big deal, scowling because everyone would make a fuss.

Eventually, some of that certainty rubbed off on you, enough that when a group dinner came together — Eunha, Gil, Maple, Haewon — you actually showed up. Jihyo did too, though you weren’t sure if she ate anything. She sat stiffly at the table, hands neatly folded, pretending to listen, pretending to laugh at jokes. But every time the door creaked, every time heavy boots sounded outside, her head snapped up like she was bracing for either relief or heartbreak.

She hid it well.

But you could see it — the way her knuckles whitened around her napkin, the way her shoulders sagged ever so slightly when it wasn’t Daigo.

Still, when anyone asked, she gave the same tired, stubborn line,

“Well, he’s a good hunter. It would be stupid for him to be retired over something so dumb.”

You didn’t call her out on the slight tremble in her voice. None of you did.

But you knew.

You knew it wasn’t just pride in his skill eating her alive.

It was love ��� deep and gnawing — twisting in her chest, turning every hour he stayed gone into another small, private agony.

Midway through dinner, when things were finally starting to feel light again, Nayeon leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eye and said, “Alright, serious bets — how many carts do you think Daigo’s gonna take?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, finally feeling some of the tension ease.

“Oh, easy two,” you said. “He’s gonna barely make it back. He’ll be limping and muttering about ‘stupid magma’ the whole time.”

Nayeon, ever the contrarian, wagged a finger at you. “Oh ye of little faith. I’m saying one cart, at most. He’s way too careful on solo hunts.”

The game caught quickly.

“I think Daigo’s gonna fail,” Eunha chimed in with a teasing grin. She and Daigo were close — practically siblings — so the jab was affectionate, expected.

Maple, more reserved, played with the rim of her glass and mumbled, “Um… maybe one cart? He’s really strong.”

Everyone laughed lightly, the tension finally breaking.

Except Jihyo.

She had been quiet, so quiet you almost forgot she was there, until she finally set her fork down with a soft clink and said,

“Daigo is an exceptional hunter. We shouldn’t joke about his success.”

The table went dead silent.

There was no anger in her voice — just a fierce, unyielding certainty that seemed to burn hotter than any flame. Her eyes were steady, but you could see the storm swirling just beneath them — fear, pride, frustration, and something even stronger. Something deeper.

Love.

It poured off her in waves, so raw and desperate you almost couldn’t look at her without feeling like you were intruding on something private.

The conversation stumbled back to life a few moments later, lighter and more careful.

On the third day about dusk Daigo finally returned The guild hall was alive with noise — laughter, the clink of mugs, the scuff of boots against worn wood. Life moved forward. It had to.

Still, you caught yourself glancing at the entrance every few minutes, heart twisting when it was just another familiar hunter returning from a mundane quest.

Then —

the doors creaked open.

And the world stopped.

He stepped through the threshold, and for a split second, you didn’t recognize him.

Taller.

Broader.

His skin bore new markings — intricate tribal tattoos coiling along his arms and across his chest where his battered armor had been loosened, old symbols that seemed to hum with meaning. His hair was longer, wild and unkempt. His eyes, once stormy and restless, now burned with a deeper, quieter fire. Even his voice, when he called out a soft greeting, sounded different — lower, roughened, like it had been dragged through fire and sand and war.

It was Jihyo who moved first.

One breath —

then she was sprinting across the guild hall.

The slap echoed louder than any roar you’d heard in the field. A hard, cracking sound against the new Daigo’s cheek.

He barely flinched.

Before anyone could react, Jihyo grabbed him by the front of his torn armor, pulled him down, and kissed him fiercely — a kiss full of anger, love, terror, and overwhelming relief.

When she pulled back, her forehead pressed against his, her hands trembling as she said, voice thick with emotion,

“We are a team, you idiot. And I’m not letting you go out on your own anymore.”

And then she kissed him again, softer this time, as if to anchor herself to the fact he was real. Alive. Home.

The guild hall seemed to hold its breath.

Only when a crowd started to gather — gasps, hurried whispers — did Jihyo finally step back, reluctantly, but her hand stayed gripped tight in his.

Daigo straightened, his expression unreadable, and faced the gathered hunters.

“How’d it go?” one of them asked eagerly.

He exhaled slowly, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest.

“After I killed the Dire Miralis…” he began, voice steady but raw, “I started heading home. But an elder from my old village — before the Dire Miralis destroyed it — found me. He told me I had one last rite of passage.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Daigo’s jaw tightened. He squeezed Jihyo’s hand once before letting go and gesturing toward the fresh wounds — claw marks, strange deep slashes — that crisscrossed his arms.

“In my village,” he explained, “we believed that every hunter was tied to a monster. That to truly become your own man — your own hunter — you had to find it and defeat it.”

He looked up, his gaze fierce, cutting through the room.

“My monster was the Malzeno.”

A collective shiver ran through the hunters. Even the bravest of them paled.

“And not just any Malzeno,” Daigo said, his lips pursed as if choosing his next words carefully. “A Primordial Malzeno.”

The hall exploded into stunned whispers.

You couldn’t breathe for a second.

Jihyo didn’t look surprised though. She just watched him with those fierce, unblinking eyes — seeing him, truly seeing him, in a way nobody else could. She had known from the start. Known he was more than anyone ever gave him credit for.

But not anymore.

The guild was still buzzing from the news, but Jihyo barely noticed.

Daigo was home. He was hurt, exhausted, and stubborn as hell, and she wasn’t going to let him fall apart under everyone’s gawking eyes.

She pulled him — none too gently — toward one of the quieter rooms tucked away behind the main hall. Someplace where she could patch him up properly.

“Sit,” she ordered, pushing him down onto a worn bench.

Daigo huffed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “You’re bossier than I remember.”

“You remember wrong,” Jihyo said, already grabbing a roll of bandages from the shelf. “I’ve always been this way.”

He chuckled — low and rough — and it sent a shiver through her. He sounded different. Older. Like a blade that had finally been sharpened into its true form.

As she worked — wiping blood from the scrapes on his arms, gently checking his ribs for fractures — Daigo watched her in a way that made her hands tremble. Not with fear. With something deeper. Something she had tried so hard to keep buried while he was gone.

Finally, when the worst of his wounds were cleaned and wrapped, she sat back, staring at him.

“You could’ve died,” she said quietly. “You almost died.”

Daigo was silent for a long moment. Then he reached out and caught her hand, holding it against his chest, right over his heart.

“I know,” he said.

The room felt heavy with everything they hadn’t said.

“You scared me, Daigo,” she whispered, tears prickling at the edges of her vision. “You scared me so much I could barely breathe.”

He squeezed her hand tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…I had to prove it. Not to them. To myself. That I could be more than what they saw. That I wasn’t just some broken kid with a dead village and a temper I couldn’t control.”

“You didn’t have to prove anything to me,” Jihyo said fiercely. “You never did.”

Daigo smiled, a small, tired thing.

“I know,” he said again. “And that’s why…”

He trailed off, searching her face like it held all the answers he didn’t know how to ask for.

“That’s why I love you, Jihyo.”

The words fell between them, raw and unpolished and real.

She stared at him, stunned. Not because she didn’t know — she had always known — but because hearing it out loud was different. It made it undeniable. Tangible.

“I love you,” he repeated, voice steadier now. “I think I have since the moment you dragged me into this guild and told everyone I’d be great. You saw something in me before anyone else did. Even me.”

Jihyo swallowed hard, blinking fast.

She leaned forward and kissed him — slow this time, deliberate — like sealing a promise between them.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against his and whispered,

“Good. Because you’re stuck with me, Daigo. No more hunts alone. No more facing monsters by yourself. We do this together.”

Daigo smiled — a real smile this time, bright and full of everything he had fought to protect.

“Together,” he agreed.

And for the first time in a long, long while, he let himself believe he was finally home.

The trip back to your shared home was quiet, but not uncomfortable.

Daigo, though clearly exhausted, refused to let go of Jihyo’s hand the whole way back. His new tribal markings caught the moonlight as you walked behind them with Nayeon, the two of you exchanging little glances but saying nothing. Even Nayeon knew better than to ruin the moment with one of her usual jabs.

When you finally reached the door, Daigo hesitated, just for a second, before stepping inside. Home. Really home this time.

Jihyo guided him gently through the hallway, not to the couch, but to the bathroom. “You need to clean up first,” she said, voice soft but firm.

Daigo didn’t argue. He just let her lead him.

The bathroom quickly filled with the scent of herbal soaps and the quiet sound of water pouring into the deep tub. Daigo sat heavily at the edge, peeling off his battered gear piece by piece. Jihyo knelt beside him, helping him undo the straps and buckles when his fingers trembled from exhaustion.

When he was bare and covered in old blood, dirt, and faint smudges of soot, Jihyo turned away to give him privacy as he slid into the steaming water. Only after a long minute did she slip in behind him, This wasn’t about anything other than being there.

The water sloshed softly as she reached for a cloth and started carefully washing his back. Daigo’s skin twitched under her touch, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it — into her.

“You scared me,” she said quietly, wringing out the cloth and working over the new markings across his shoulders.

“I know,” he murmured. His voice was lower now, rougher — but somehow calmer too.

Jihyo set the cloth aside for a moment and rested her forehead against his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t,” Daigo said after a long pause. “Not to them. I was proving it to myself.”

Jihyo lifted her head and cupped a handful of water, letting it pour over his hair, rinsing out the dust and blood. She combed her fingers through the dark strands gently.

“You didn’t need to,” she said. “You were already enough.”

Daigo turned his head slightly, enough that he could meet her eyes over his shoulder. The look he gave her — tired, raw, grateful — was almost too much.

“I know now,” he said quietly.

Jihyo smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple.

They didn’t talk much after that. Jihyo continued washing him in slow, methodical motions, her hands never rough, never hurried. Daigo eventually coaxed her into letting him do the same for her, the moment tender and full of unspoken promises.

When they finally got out, both of them wrapped in thick towels, Daigo barely made it to the couch before crashing face-first into the cushions. Jihyo laughed under her breath, draping a blanket over him as he immediately started snoring.

“You’re such an idiot,” she whispered fondly, brushing his damp hair back one last time before curling up on the floor beside him, unwilling to be more than an arm’s reach away.

You and Nayeon quietly moved around them, setting out tea and pretending not to notice how at peace they finally looked.

By the time you sat down, Daigo was fast asleep, breathing slow and even. Jihyo stayed awake, keeping watch over him with the kind of fierce tenderness you could only describe as love.

The night passed quietly.

The house was filled only with the soft sound of Daigo’s breathing and the occasional creak of wood settling. Nayeon had long since disappeared into her room, dragging you with her with a smug grin, leaving Jihyo alone to keep her silent vigil beside the couch.

At some point in the early hours of the morning, her head dipped, and she finally dozed off against the couch’s side, her hand still resting lightly on Daigo’s arm.

When Jihyo stirred awake, the first thing she noticed was the faint light dancing across the room. She blinked groggily, shifting slightly — and then froze.

Daigo’s markings were glowing.

It wasn’t harsh or alarming. It was a soft, slow pulse, like the heartbeat of a slumbering dragon. The deep indigo-blue glow mirrored the scales of the Primordial Malzeno — eerie, beautiful, and somehow peaceful. The light spilled over his skin in lazy waves, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the powerful shape of his shoulders, the quiet strength in his stillness.

For a moment, Jihyo just stared.

He’s different, she thought. Changed.

Older. Stronger. Scarred inside and out.

But then Daigo shifted slightly in his sleep, pulling the blanket higher with a sleepy frown — the same way he used to when they camped under the stars during their first hunts together six years ago. His brow furrowed the same way it always had when he dreamed. His fingers twitched, curling instinctively toward where her hand had been.

And in that moment, all the differences melted away.

Beneath the markings and the new voice and the battles he had fought, Daigo was still Daigo.

Still the stubborn, reckless, fierce hunter who had walked into the guild hall with nothing but the clothes on his back and a fire burning in his chest.

Still the boy who hadn’t known how to smile properly until Nayeon bullied it out of him.

Still the man who had made her heart stutter and race in ways no monster ever had.

Jihyo reached out gently, brushing her fingers over one of the glowing markings on his arm. The light flared faintly at her touch, but Daigo didn’t wake — he just relaxed again, as if sensing it was her.

A soft, bittersweet smile curved her lips.

“Welcome home, Daigo,” she whispered.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand before settling back in her spot. The glow from his markings kept pulsing steadily, lighting the room in soft colors as Jihyo watched over him until sleep claimed her again.

Together, they drifted into dreams, the night finally, finally at peace.

The sun was barely peeking over the hills when Jihyo stirred awake.

Still bleary-eyed and wrapped in one of the heavy blankets from the couch, she turned her head and smiled softly at the sight of Daigo — stretched out, fast asleep, one arm dangling off the side of the couch. The markings on his skin still glowed faintly, a soft, ghostly color that matched the scales of the Primordial Malzeno.

Despite everything — his new height, his changed voice, the wild power he now carried in his blood — to Jihyo, he was still the Daigo she had met six years ago. The stubborn, bright-eyed hunter who had challenged her to a sparring match on her first day and grinned like an idiot even when she knocked him flat on his back. The one who always got up after being knocked down until he wasn’t the one being knocked down but the one picking others up.

Carefully, she slid closer to him on the couch and curled up beside him, resting her head against his chest. His heart beat slow and steady under her ear.

At first, she just meant to enjoy the quiet — but the longer she stayed, the more overwhelming the need to be close to him became.

She nuzzled into him, brushing her nose lightly against his collarbone. Her hand found his and laced their fingers together. She pressed kisses — soft and lingering — along the new markings on his shoulder, his jaw, anywhere she could reach without waking him too abruptly.

Daigo shifted, groggy but instinctively pulling her closer with a low grunt. His fingers threaded through her hair.

“Ji…” he muttered, half-asleep, voice thick and rumbling.

“You’re not allowed to leave me like that again,” she whispered fiercely, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “I don’t care how strong you are now.”

Daigo cracked open one eye, a slow, fond smile spreading across his face.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he rasped.

Jihyo answered by smothering him in even more affection — nuzzling under his chin, peppering his neck with kisses, tracing the markings on his arms with featherlight touches. Her whole body spoke the words she couldn’t say fast enough: Stay. Stay with me.

When Daigo finally managed to sit up, Jihyo clung to him a moment longer before allowing him to stand.

Nayeon, of course, caught them a little later. She leaned against the frame, grinning like a cat who caught two canaries.

“Aren’t you two cute,” she teased. “I turn my back for five minutes and you’re practically glued together.”

Jihyo didn’t even blush this time — she just smirked and laced her fingers back through Daigo’s.

“Maybe if you found someone worth clinging to, you’d understand,” she shot back sweetly. Nayeon rolled her eyes and said

“I’ll give you two love dragons some privacy,”

After their moment Jihyo turned to Daigo and said, “I need more before diving in for a more aggressive kiss,” her lips tasted sweet to Daigo as she kissed him more. Jihyo lost in her desires begins grinding on Daigo. Daigo moans as he feels Jihyo’s crotch wrap around and slide on his. Eventually even that wasn’t enough for Jihyo. She moved the cloth separating them before sliding down on his cock. She moaned as she took more and more of him inside of her.

“Ah fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” she moaned as she awkwardly rested on top of his cock overwhelmed emotionally and physically. She groaned until Daigo made a move and she popped.

Jihyo’s orgasm came violently, her whole body raked with pleasure as  squeezed Daigo’s cock snugly. She moaned as she took his cock

Due to the awkward position and tight squeeze Daigo also came inside her as well. Jihyo moaned uncontrollably as she felt her womb fill with cum until her belly slightly distended from it.

After that the two headed to the guild house

The quiet stillness of the early morning air wrapped around them as Jihyo and Daigo stood just outside the guild house. The sun was rising higher, casting golden light across the trees and the stone paths that led toward the guild.

Jihyo, still holding his hand, stood on her tiptoes to press a lingering kiss against his cheek. Her lips lingered there for a second longer than usual, and when she pulled back, her eyes were soft, but there was an intensity to them — a need, a hunger for connection she could no longer hold back.

“You know,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along his jaw, “I’ve been thinking… through all of this, through everything you’ve done, I’ve come to realize just how much you’ve changed.” She paused, meeting his gaze with quiet intensity. “And I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you, Daigo.”

Daigo blinked, his chest tightening at the words, the sincerity that only Jihyo could give. Her words, her affection, seemed to pour over him like a wave. And for the first time, he allowed himself to drink it all in, no defenses, no barriers.

“I didn’t think I deserved this…” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it held all the rawness of everything he’d been holding inside. He turned slightly toward her, fingers still intertwined with hers. “I’ve always felt like… like I had to prove something. Prove I was good enough for you, for anyone. But…”

“But you are,” Jihyo interrupted, her voice firm yet tender, her fingers caressing the back of his hand. “You always have been. You don’t need to prove a thing to anyone, especially not to me.”

The world seemed to shrink around them — no noise, no distractions, just the two of them in this intimate, shared space. Jihyo’s heart raced in her chest as she gazed up at Daigo, her hand rising to rest against his cheek.

“You’ve always been enough,” she whispered, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “And I… I love you, Daigo. All of you. The fighter, the man who’s been carrying the weight of everything for so long. I see you. I always have.”

Daigo’s breath caught in his throat. The way her eyes locked with his, the way she laid herself bare before him, made his chest ache with an intensity he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling. There was no more fear, no more self-doubt. Just her. Her love.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said hoarsely, his voice a mixture of wonder and disbelief. “But I’ll take it. I’ll take everything you give me.”

With that, he pulled her closer, one hand cupping the back of her neck. His lips brushed against hers, tentative at first, as if testing if it was real. But as soon as their lips met, a spark ignited between them. The kiss deepened, slow and filled with the weight of everything they had shared and everything they were about to embrace.

Jihyo’s hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath. She kissed him harder, pouring every ounce of the love she felt into him, into this single moment that felt like a beginning rather than an end.

Daigo, for the first time in a long while, let himself accept that love fully. He took it all — every ounce of warmth and tenderness she offered — and he held onto it as tightly as he held onto her. There was no hesitation, no fear, just the solid certainty that this was where he belonged.

When they finally broke apart, breaths shallow and hearts racing, Jihyo rested her forehead against his. Her fingers still threaded through his, and her voice was soft, filled with all the love and approval she could no longer keep hidden.

“I’m so proud of you, Daigo,” she repeated, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed, everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m never letting go.”

Daigo leaned into her touch, his eyes closing for a moment as he let her words wash over him. No more doubt. No more fear. Just love. Her love. And for the first time, he felt worthy of it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for seeing me… for believing in me.”

Jihyo kissed him again, her lips gentle against his, a promise that they would face everything together, side by side, no matter what.

As they pulled apart, a soft laugh escaped Daigo’s lips — not nervous, not forced — just pure contentment. Jihyo smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with affection, and he couldn’t help but return it with a smile of his own.

And there, in the quiet of the morning, in the space where nothing but the two of them mattered, Daigo knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

Later that morning, after Jihyo and Nayeon had dragged Daigo into a hearty breakfast (despite his protests), he was pulled aside to complete his official hunt report.

The guild hall was buzzing with the news: Daigo had returned. And more importantly, he had succeeded.

Daigo sat at the long, scarred table, filling out the formal paperwork with slow, steady strokes of the pen. Jihyo hovered nearby, barely hiding her pride. Nayeon kept grinning and whispering ridiculous things to Maple, who kept giggling behind her hand.

When Daigo finally handed the report over, the guildmaster — a tall, wiry man with a booming laugh — read it aloud to the assembled hunters:

“Successful solo hunt against Dire Miralis. Zero carts. Additional encounter with a Primordial Malzeno — defeated. Zero carts.”

The hall fell silent for a beat — then erupted into gasps and low murmurs of awe.

As the guildmaster signed off on the report, he clapped Daigo hard on the back, beaming.

“Effective immediately,” the guildmaster announced, “Daigo is hereby promoted to Apex Rank, alongside Jihyo.”

Cheers went up around the hall, though not everyone wore a smile.

Near the back, Natty — one of the fiercest and proudest hunters, who had once prided herself on being Jihyo’s equal — pushed her way forward, her face twisted with confusion and something bitterer.

“How?” she demanded, stopping right in front of Daigo, fists clenched at her sides. “How did you do it?”

Daigo met her gaze calmly. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice that was steady but heavy with truth, he replied,

“I wanted to win more than I wanted to live.”

It wasn’t boastful. It wasn’t cruel. It was just the truth, laid bare and raw.

Natty’s expression faltered. She opened her mouth as if to say something — but nothing came out. She simply stepped back, swallowing thickly, and let him pass.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, the heavy doors of the guild creaked open once more.

An old man entered, clad in simple, roughspun clothes, but there was a weight to his presence — a quiet, unshakable authority. His skin was weathered like old stone, his eyes sharp and deep.

Daigo’s steps slowed. He knew this man — one of the last elders of his home, the hidden village that the Dire Miralis had nearly erased from the world.

The elder walked forward and clasped Daigo’s shoulders in a warrior’s grip.

“You have returned victorious,” he said solemnly. “But the blooding must be completed.”

Wordlessly, Daigo followed him outside, where a stone basin had been prepared. Within it, dark, shimmering blood — collected from the monsters he had slain — pulsed faintly with a life of its own.

Guild members gathered at a respectful distance, watching silently. Jihyo stood close, her heart pounding in her chest.

The elder spoke the ancient rite in a language few remembered, then gestured for Daigo to kneel.

Without hesitation, Daigo did.

The elder dipped his hands into the blood and began marking Daigo’s skin, tracing along the tribal markings that had already begun to appear after his victories. As the blood touched him, the lines seemed to ignite — faint, beautiful glows in the same colors as the Primordial Malzeno’s scales: silver and a ghostly violet.

The markings curled up his arms, over his shoulders, and across his chest, sharpening and deepening with every careful stroke.

When it was done, the elder stepped back.

“You are no longer a boy chasing monsters,” the elder said. “You are a hunter who has mastered his own fury. Rise, Daigo of our blood.”

Daigo stood slowly, the last of the blood dripping from his skin. His markings pulsed faintly, vibrant against the morning light.

He turned to face Jihyo — and for a moment, the world was very small. Only her, only him, and the shared understanding that this wasn’t just an end.

It was a beginning.

Jihyo stepped forward and squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing the new marks on his wrist. Her smile was so full of pride and affection that Daigo almost couldn’t look directly at it.

“You’re still the same Daigo I met six years ago,” she whispered to him, voice trembling slightly. “No matter how different you look… you’re still mine.”

And in that moment, Daigo realized he wasn’t running from anything anymore.

He was finally home.

A few moments later, the heavy oak doors of the guild house swung open with a bang, making a few hunters glance up from their breakfasts. In stormed Diovaldo, a familiar and perpetually dramatic hunter known for both his big voice and even bigger reactions.

He stomped halfway into the room, took one look at Daigo — who was still basking in the afterglow of both his promotion and Jihyo’s affection — and immediately changed course. With a loud, “Yo, congrats, man!” Diovaldo swept Daigo into a bone-crushing hug that lifted him a few inches off the ground.

Daigo let out a startled grunt, awkwardly patting Diovaldo’s back. “Uh… thanks?”

Diovaldo set him down with a grin before turning on his heel, storming toward the guild representative standing behind the main desk.

“What the heck?” Diovaldo barked, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve been asking — begging — what I gotta do to reach Apex rank! And every time, every single time, you tell me ‘it’s complicated’ or ‘there’s no openings.’ Then Daigo goes off on some

Lone hunter/ Hero’s journey, comes back taller, shinier, and suddenly you’re throwing Apex rank at him like confetti? I CALL B.S.!”

The guild rep, an older man with the permanent look of someone whose Dash juice had been just snatched away, let out a long, suffering sigh.

“Diovaldo,” he said, rubbing his temples, “why are you yelling?”

“BECAUSE I’M MAD!” Diovaldo practically vibrated in place. “I’ve been doing everything right! I sharpen my weapons! I do extra bounties! I even started doing Marathon hunts because you said I needed better stamina! And now you’re telling me all I had to do was…” — he gestured wildly at Daigo — “go on some spiritual sabbatical, fight a god-tier Dire Miralis, and beat a primordial Malzeno tied to my soul?!”

The guild rep blinked slowly. “Would you like me to make you a pamphlet next time?”

Diovaldo threw his arms in the air again. “YES, actually. A pamphlet would have been great! You could call it ‘So You Want to Become an Apex Hunter: Step One, Die a Little Inside!’”

Meanwhile, Daigo — still half stunned — looked over at Jihyo, who was biting her lip hard, trying not to laugh. She gave him a tiny thumbs-up behind Diovaldo’s back.

The guild rep sighed again, the sound practically peeling paint off the walls. “Diovaldo, this isn’t a carnival prize. Apex rank is earned through… extraordinary feats.”

“I CAN BE EXTRAORDINARY!” Diovaldo wailed, dramatically grabbing a random hunter’s cloak like a tragic hero from a play. “ Do I just need better marketing? Maybe a catchy theme song!”

Daigo finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and chuckled, clapping Diovaldo on the shoulder. “Hey, man, if it helps, I didn’t even know this was a thing until about two minutes ago.”

Diovaldo sagged like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Of course you didn’t,” he muttered, shuffling toward the breakfast line, muttering under his breath about bias and favoritism and ominous training arcs he clearly needed to undertake.

Jihyo sidled up beside Daigo, still snickering. “You sure you’re ready for the fame, Apex Hunter?”

Daigo smirked. “As long as I get paid extra, they can call me whatever they want.”

“Good,” Jihyo said, slipping her hand into his with a wink. “Because I have a few ideas.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Master of Mischief

Word count: 472

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando Norris and Y/n, the notorious pranksters of the grid, pull off a hilarious stunt on Carlos Sainz's, leaving the paddock in stitches.

________________________________________________________

Lando Norris and Y/n had built quite the reputation for being the pranksters of the grid. The two were inseparable, and their antics had become legendary, keeping the paddock on its toes every race weekend.

It was Friday, and Lando had texted Y/n early that morning with a simple message: *“It’s time.”* They both knew what that meant — a new prank was brewing.

The target this time? None other than Carlos Sainz, Lando’s former teammate. Carlos had been getting a little too comfortable with his perfect hair and charming smiles. It was time to humble him — in the most ridiculous way possible.

Y/n met Lando at the McLaren garage with a duffel bag full of supplies. As soon as Carlos left for a media session, they sneaked into his hospitality room. The plan? Replace all of Carlos' hair products with bright blue hair dye. Harmless, but effective.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Lando whispered, barely containing his laughter as Y/n popped open a bottle of hair gel.

“Trust me, I’ve done the math,” Y/n replied with mock seriousness, expertly swapping the contents. “By the time he realizes, it’ll be too late.”

With the final bottle swapped, they quickly left the room, trying to look as innocent as possible. A few hours later, the results of their masterpiece were on full display.

Carlos walked into the Ferrari garage, looking completely unaware of the situation. Then, slowly but surely, the whispers started. His hair looked… different. The normally sleek brown locks now had a subtle blue tint under the fluorescent lights.

Lando and Y/n could barely keep it together. They stood off to the side, pretending to look busy, but every time Carlos walked by, they caught each other’s eye and had to suppress their laughter.

Carlos, completely oblivious, continued his day until he finally caught his reflection in a mirror. He froze. His face twisted in confusion as he ran his hands through his hair.

“What the—?” he muttered, inspecting his now-blue fingertips. Panic spread across his face, and in true Carlos fashion, he shouted, “¡Dios mío! What happened to my hair?!”

Lando and Y/n could no longer hold back. They burst out laughing, clutching their sides as Carlos spun around to glare at them.

“Was this you two?!” Carlos demanded, though his exasperated tone gave way to a smile.

“Let’s just say,” Y/n started, wiping a tear from their eye, “you’ve been blue all along, Carlos.”

“You look great, mate. Blue is definitely your color!” Lando added, giving him a cheeky grin.

Carlos shook his head, a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You two are impossible.”

[hippiegoth97]

Heat of The Moment: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

Master List

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@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Description: You're best friends with Eddie, but you're also secretly in love with him. You struggle to hide your feelings, until a visit to Lover's Lake makes you unable to keep up the act anymore. Thankfully, things go better than you expect...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI:  smut, swearing, female reader, jealousy, crying, lots of angsty feelings, friends to lovers, metalhead!reader, drug references/use, grinding, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise/degradation, squirting

Word Count: 5.5k

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

Heat of The Moment

You've been close friends with Eddie Munson since high school. You remember not fitting in with anybody, and then Eddie took you under his wing. He showed you how to play D&D, and all of his metal band cassette tapes. Soon after, you joined the Hellfire Club and became a full-blown metalhead. You cut your hair short and dyed it funky colors, and wore a beaten leather jacket covered in pins and patches. Your jeans were always torn, and Converse adorned your feet at all times. You even had your nose pierced, much to your mother's dismay. Your eyes were always smoky with eyeliner, and dark red lipstick made your mouth look absolutely sinful. You made guitar pick earrings and a matching necklace to wear, Eddie had generously given the picks to you. You'd even made him a necklace as well, and he gave you the biggest bear hug when you gifted it to him on his birthday. You were hoping for a kiss, but you took whatever affection you could get from Eddie.

Years later, you'd both just squeaked by to graduate, you never took your grades very seriously. You don't see the point of doing what everyone in life pushed on you. College, marriage, kids, the house with the white picket fence. It all seems so hollow, and you want no part in it. You instead choose to focus on Eddie. You play D&D with him regularly, and he recently decided to teach you how to play the guitar. Some days you just get high and listen to Metallica or Dio in his trailer. Any time you can spend by his side, you jump at the chance. You couldn't help falling in love with him, but you're sure he doesn't feel the same. He treats you like a sister, a best friend. He always picks other girls to go out with and screw. It's not like you aren't a catch, you've been with plenty of guys. But none of them make you feel the way Eddie does, so you’ve never formed a long-term relationship with any of them. You can barely remember their names, they don't matter to you at all.

It always hurts you to see Eddie with other girls, kissing and giggling with them. They sit in his lap after his shows, practically humping him on the couch in his trailer. It always makes you want to scream, or vomit. That should be you, not some whore who doesn't care about him. So you try your best to act unbothered, bringing your own dates to distract yourself. You eventually fuck them on the couch while Eddie takes whatever girl he brought home to his bed.

But the whole time you're having sex with someone else, you can hear what’s happening in his bedroom. It makes you want to burst into tears, but you just pretend you don't hear. Or worse, you pretend the random guy you’re with is Eddie instead. You always feel disgusted afterwards though, you're just using random men to fill a gaping hole inside your heart. Not only that, you don't even pretend to like them. They all have blank faces, no names to you. You fill in the blanks when it comes time to screw them, pasting Eddie where you want him most. But they never perform the way you imagine he would. They don't care about you, or your pleasure. Once they're done, they leave. You're left laying on the couch afterwards, hearing noises from the bedroom with your clothes still removed or undone. It's here that you always lose the battle with your tears, letting them out silently to make sure the lovebirds aren't disturbed. You eventually get yourself together, wiping your tears away before Eddie escorts his girl to the door.

"You okay?" He always asks after he lets his whore out, taking notice of your puffy eyes and streaky eyeliner.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just another asshole." It isn't necessarily a lie, the guys you pick blindly usually don't treat you very well.

"Maybe you need to find someone you actually like, Y/N. You deserve to be happy." He kneels in front of you, wiping your eyes carefully. He looks into your eyes, and opens his mouth to say something. But he always closes it again, and shakes his head slightly. "Let me drive you home." And he always does, trying his best to cheer you up on the way. Telling jokes, blasting music, swerving the van playfully on the road. He does everything he can to get your tears to stop. It always works too, he shines so bright in your life. He makes everything better, any troubles you have melt away when you're with him. He parks and walks you to the door of your apartment like a true gentleman, telling you goodnight. You say the same, and burst into tears all over again when you close the door behind you and you're sure he won't hear. You cry so hard your chest hurts, and your throat is left raw from sobbing.

You eventually run out of tears for the night, crawling into bed with all your clothes still on, too tired to remove them. You lay in bed yearning for Eddie for hours, picturing what being his girlfriend could be like. It's oddly comforting, playing pretend in your head while you curl up in the blanket. You drift off to sleep with thoughts of the man you love swirling in your mind. And in the morning, the cycle starts again. Wake up, D&D/guitar lessons, van hangout, work, Eddie's show, back to his trailer, meaningless sex, crying, drive home, crying again, sleep. At some point this routine is sure to kill you, you can't keep going like this. You'll tell Eddie how you feel the next time you see him. And then you can either be with him, or put these pesky feelings behind you if he only sees you as a friend.

It's a Saturday afternoon, and you're getting ready to see Eddie. It's just the two of you today, you'll be going to Lover's Lake to hang out in his van. You both like the lake, not because of its name but because it's always peaceful there. The reflections of the surrounding woods on the water, birds flying overhead, a cool breeze brushing through the trees. It's nice and quiet, making you feel like it's just you and Eddie in the world. You're just about finished applying your smudgy eyeliner when you hear Eddie honking outside. You almost stab yourself with your eye pencil when the sound startles you. You toss it on your vanity, checking yourself over to make sure you look good. Your makeup is flawless, your outfit is badass as ever, and you don’t have a single hair out of place. You smile at your own reflection, eager to go with Eddie so you can tell him how you feel. You grab your bag, rushing out of your apartment and down the stairs. You run over to the van, yanking the passenger door open. You slide into your seat, tossing your bag in the back.

"Hey there, Y/N. How are you doing on this fine afternoon?" He smirks at you, looking you up and down. You seem extra put together today, he wonders if he's the reason for it. He pushes the thought from his head, there's no way you think of him like that.

"Hey, Eddie. I'm alright I guess." You say quietly, feeling his eyes on you. You look at him, meeting his wandering gaze. Did he just check me out?, you wonder. No way, he wouldn't do that.

"You 'guess'? That doesn't sound like the Y/N I know. Well, hopefully some time at the lake will brighten your mood, hm?" He puts his hand on your knee, rubbing it comfortingly. You tense at his touch, almost holding your breath. The skin where his hand is feels tingly with anticipation. "Seriously, though. Are you feeling okay? You've been kinda off lately." He's genuinely concerned about you, you've been acting weird around him recently. Whenever he touches you, it makes you all jumpy, and you've been crying a lot too. He hopes he hasn't upset you somehow, he truly cares for you. He likes you a lot, more than he'd readily admit. But he figures you only see him as a friend.

"I'm fine, Eddie. Let's just go to the lake, okay?" You reply, almost annoyed. You look out the window, waiting for him to start driving. Eddie sighs, taking his hand off your knee. He grips the steering wheel, and drives out of the parking lot. You both ride in silence on the way to the lake, but Eddie can't help looking over at you every so often. You refuse to meet his gaze, keeping your eyes focused on any sights outside the window as you ride past. Any enthusiasm or bravery you had about telling Eddie you love him is slipping away from your grasp.

Eddie continues to glance at you as he goes his usual route to the lake. Something is definitely off with you, he can see a sad expression on your face reflecting back at him in the window you keep staring out of. He doesn't know exactly why you seem so down, but he hopes you'll at least talk to him about it.

You finally reach the lake, and Eddie parks the van in your usual spot. He kills the engine, turning in his seat to face you. "So, are you gonna tell me what's going on, Y/N? Did I make you upset or something?" You turn to face him, looking into his eyes. His expression makes your heart break. He thinks he's hurt you, but it's been you hurting yourself because of how you feel about him.

"No, Eddie. You didn't do anything. I'm just being stupid, I promise." You reach forward to take his hands into yours. He lets you, and you stroke his rings, taking comfort in how the cool metal feels under your thumb. You want to keep talking, but it's like your mouth has been sewn shut.

"So what is it then? And I'm sure it's not stupid, Y/N. But you seem so sad lately, and you practically wince whenever I touch you. Just tell me what's wrong, darling. There's nothing you could say that would make me like you any less." He implores you to open up to him. He wants to help, however he can.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Eds." You manage to reply, and your gaze falls to your joined hands. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and your palms are sweating beyond belief. You feel sick, like you can't breathe. You can't do this. It'll ruin everything, and then Eddie won't want to see you anymore. You try to hold back, but your tears fight their way from your eyes, dripping onto the floor. Eddie's hands leave your grasp, grabbing the sides of your face to make you look at him again.

"Hey, hey. Y/N, please don't cry. Whatever it is, please just tell me. I can't stand seeing you so unhappy, princess." Seeing you like this makes his heart smash into a million pieces. He wants to make it better, but he doesn't even know what the problem is. You start to panic, your breaths come out fast and shallow. You start feeling dizzy, and you wish you could just run and hide. But you can't, Eddie won't let you go.

"I can't do this, Eddie. It'll ruin everything. And then you won't like me anymore. And I can't live with that." You choke the words out between sobs, your face turning a deep shade of scarlet. You're so embarrassed, and you just want to drop it. "Please, just forget it. We can pretend this never happened and I'll stop being an idiot. Please, I-" Eddie interrupts you by bringing his lips to yours. Your sobs stop, but your body still shudders a bit. You return the kiss, it's gentle and warm. A few more tears slide down your cheeks, and then Eddie breaks the kiss. He smiles at you, letting go of your face to hold your hands again.

"You know, if you were in love with me, all you had to do was say so." His smile grows wider when you gasp at his words. You open your mouth to protest, or put yourself down, but he places a finger over your lips to keep you quiet. "It's alright, darling. I promise you haven't ruined anything. I should've guessed this is why you've been acting so strange. I just didn't think you'd feel the same way about me as I do about you." Your eyes widen, you can't believe he's actually been in love with you this whole time.

You move his finger from your mouth, and grab his shirt collar. You pull him into you, smashing your lips together. He groans as you almost make him fall from his seat, but he hungrily reciprocates the kiss. He bites your bottom lip, making you moan. He slips his tongue in, and you battle for dominance. He wins out, frantically leading you to the back of the van. There's pillows and blankets thrown about, making a comfortable landing place for you. You fall onto your back, with Eddie on top of you. You finally break the kiss, stroking his face with the back of your hand. "You have no idea how many times I've wished for this, Eddie. I've loved you for so long, but I didn't think I could ever tell you. You always chose other girls over me."

"I know, and I was a fuckin' idiot. I only did that because I thought you didn't want me. We could've saved so much time, so much heartbreak. I can't begin to tell you how often I imagined those other girls were you instead." You laugh in shock at what he’s said. Him, fantasizing about you? You can't believe it. This whole time, he’s only wanted you. "That's not weird, is it?" He asks, blushes slightly at his little confession.

"Not at all, Eddie. If I'm being honest, I did the same thing with all those assholes I brought to the trailer. But I don't think they came even close to pleasing me like I imagine you could."

"Jesus, we're a couple of sick fucks, aren't we?" He chuckles, shaking his head.

"No. We were just painfully oblivious to each other's true feelings." You giggle, staring into his eyes. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Your lips meet again, slow and sensual this time. The temperature in the van begins to rise, you feel your blood boiling in your veins. Eddie's hands grip your waist, and his left knee goes between your legs. He's creating friction on your clothed core, causing you to moan. His lips leave yours, moving to your jaw, and your neck. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your skin, occasionally sucking the flesh to leave hickies on you. "Fuck, Eddie. You're really good at this." You sigh blissfully, letting every sensation wash over you.

"I should hope so, I've had plenty of practice." He says between kisses, smirking like an idiot. One of his hands leaves your waist to grope your tits through your shirt. You arch your back off the floor of the van, gasping at his touch. "You make such pretty noises, princess." He whispers in your ear. "I can't wait to hear what you sound like when you cum." His words make you so wet, and his knee grinding on you feels so good. Every move Eddie makes sets your insides on fire, intense waves of pleasure washing over you. He's got you so wound up, soaking through your panties. Not long now until he pushes you over the edge.

"If you keep going the way you are, it won't take much." You moan out, your hands tangling in his hair. You tug on it roughly, and he groans into your neck.

"Careful, Y/N. It's dangerous to push my buttons like that." He grins at you, pulling you to sit up. He places you on top of him, his thigh positioned between your legs. You're sitting on your knees, and Eddie grips your hips in his hands. "Ride my thigh, darling. I want you to make yourself cum for me." He says lowly, his eyes burning with lust as they gaze into yours. You do as he says, slowly moving your hips on him. Eddie keeps your pace steady, helping you into the right angle to hit the spot where you need him most. You place your hands on his shoulders for leverage, increasing your pace on him. He just sits there watching you closely, drinking in every moan and curse that falls from your lips.

The waves are crashing into you now, threatening to pull you under. You're sweating through your clothes, and your pussy is impossibly wet. "Fuck, Eddie. I'm so close." You moan loudly, digging your nails into his shoulders.

"Keep going, princess. Make a mess all over me. Let me hear those pretty moans." His words spur you on further, and you grind yourself on him as fast as you can. You're panting wildly, feeling wave after wave rolling into you. Eddie moves to bite down into your neck, which sends you falling over the edge.

"Oh, god!" You scream, your legs try to snap shut as stars fill your vision. Eddie holds you into his chest, keeping you upright as your orgasm rips through you. You keep gripping his shoulders, gasping for air as you ride out your high. You fall backwards after your body has calmed down. You just lay here like a starfish, trying to collect your thoughts. You're staring at the roof of the van, breathing heavily. Eddie lays down on his side next to you. His head is propped up with one hand, and the other slowly strokes your arm up and down.

"How are you feeling, love?" He asks, looking down at you with kind eyes.

"Good. Uh, great, actually." You say awkwardly, glancing at him briefly. "I've never done that before. Not…cum, I've done that plenty. I just mean, the whole...um, grinding on you thing. I didn't expect it to have such an effect on me." You can't help your cheeks burning. You feel silly, babbling words at Eddie like this.

"Relax, Y/N. You don't have to be embarrassed about anything with me, you know that." You look at him again, seeing genuine affection in his eyes. You nod, turning your body to face his. You get as close to him as you can, and he wraps his arms around you. You kiss him again, but it's much softer now. Your heart melts, and you pull him even closer. He breaks away, speaking quietly. "Do you want more, sweetheart?"

"Yes, please." You reply just as quietly. You're not sure why you're both being so quiet, but it feels right. This moment feels so intimate, and you never want it to end. You lay on your back again after removing your jacket. He takes his own off too, the climate inside the van is like a sauna.

"Take your shirt off for me, princess." You obey his command, tossing it away. Eddie's right hand immediately goes to massage one of your breasts over your bra, making you gasp. His eyes gaze over your body, almost in awe of how beautiful you look. After a moment of staring, he lifts your torso to reach behind you. He expertly unclasps your bra, pulling it off you with ease. His breath hitches when your tits are exposed for him, your nipples hardened from arousal. "You're so gorgeous, baby.'' You blush at his compliment, a small giggle escaping your lips. Eddie lowers his head to your chest, kissing the valley between your breasts. You moan, gripping his long locks again. He peppers wet kisses on every last inch of you, leaving no flesh untouched. From the curves of your tits, to your ribs underneath, his lips leave a scorching trail as he moves. Once he's satisfied with his work, he swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth.

"Eddie." You whimper as he worries his teeth on the sensitive bud. His hand gropes your other breast, squeezing it roughly. Once he's left you properly marked, Eddie repeats the same actions on the other side. You tug on his hair again, making him groan. You love hearing the effect you have on him, most guys are too shy to make noises. But Eddie isn't most guys, especially when he's around you. You tug again harder, and he moans even louder. He stops kissing your chest, looking at you. His eyes are dark, swirling with pure lust.

"You love playing with danger, don't you, princess?" He flashes you a devilish grin.

"Maybe." You smile back at him. "But I love the noises you make when I touch you even more. Guys don't really do that, but it's so fucking hot."

"Is that so?" He asks, you just nod at him. "I'll keep that in mind, darling." He sits up to remove his shirt, and you can't help gawking at his body. He's toned, but slender, and his tattoos look so good on him. You get on your knees to feel him up. You run your hands up and down his chest, feeling as much of him as you can. "You like what you see, love?" He asks quietly. You look into his eyes, feeling passion overtake you. You grab him by the shoulders, and push him over as you bring your lips onto his in a bruising kiss. He grunts as he falls, grabbing your waist to take you with him. You straddle him when he lands, grinding yourself onto his stiffening cock. He groans into your mouth, gripping your hips roughly. "What's gotten into you, Y/N? You're so needy." Eddie chuckles as he breaks the kiss to take a breath.

"You'll see, Eds. Just lay down and relax." You grin slyly at him. He cocks an eyebrow, unsure of what you mean. You proceed to lick a long stripe from his collarbone to his jaw. You look at him again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He just stares at you, wide-eyed. He's panting, awaiting your next move. You feel his dick growing even harder beneath you. You take that as a sign to keep going. You lean back down to his neck, biting down hard this time, then sucking the skin to make a dark bruise.

"Jesus, fuck." He moans out, spurring you on. You nibble his skin, trailing down his neck, to his chest, his stomach. Each move you take elicits whimpers and curses from Eddie's lips. Every sound is music to your ears, making you more and more wet whenever you hear one. You reach his belt, looking over your handiwork. Eddie's body is littered with teeth marks, and he's breathing heavily. You undo his belt, taking your time in order to tease him. Once it's open you unzip his jeans, pulling them down as Eddie kicks off his shoes. He's left in his boxers now, and a tent has formed in the thin fabric. You grip his waistband and yank his boxers down. His dick springs free, slapping his stomach before standing up straight.

You take his length in your hand, stroking him gently. He groans again, sweat beginning to form on his brow. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "You're very sexy when you're desperate, baby." Eddie's completely fucked for you, silently begging you to put him in your mouth. You happily oblige him, taking every last inch of him at once. You gag slightly when he hits the back of your throat, but you're persistent about keeping as much of him in as possible. You bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue around him as you go. He's constantly letting out lewd noises, which only serve to fuel your fire.

"Keep going, babe. But can you put your pussy towards me?" He asks, barely getting the words out. You position yourself where he wants you, and he makes frantic work of taking off your shoes and remaining clothes. You moan on Eddie's cock as you feel him stroking your slick folds. "You're so wet, darling. Is this all for me?" He asks as he slips two fingers into your cunt.

All you can manage to reply with is a muffled 'mmhmm' as he starts curling his digits inside you. Each stroke of Eddie's fingers makes you see stars, causing you to moan on him again and again. This in turn makes him groan and pick up his pace while fingering you. You feel Eddie's balls tightening, he's getting close. You speed up, working him harder and faster, gagging on him repeatedly. He takes this as a challenge to give you another orgasm, so he takes his fingers out of you, replacing them with his tongue. You scream on his length, feeling a fire beginning to build in your belly. His mouth licks and sucks on your clit mercilessly, pouring gasoline on the flames.

You're both driving each other mad as you compete to send the other over the edge. Moans fill the van as you near your highs, each lick and stroke pushing you further and further. Eddie's release comes first, and his mouth temporarily leaves your dripping cunt to moan your name as he cums down your throat. Once you've swallowed every drop, he sucks your clit into his mouth to make you topple over the edge. You scream his name as your legs begin to shake. Your orgasm rips through your body viciously, and you feel yourself cum onto Eddie's face. He holds you steady until your high subsides, licking up all your juices in the meantime.

You collapse onto him, practically gasping for air. You lay on your stomach for a moment, waiting for your vision to clear. Eddie strokes the backs of your legs affectionately. "You alive over there, Y/N?" He asks playfully.

"Yeah, just...wow. You're so fucking good at that." You sit up, back still facing him. His arms wrap around you from behind, his legs on either side of you. He kisses your shoulder, and your neck. His lips feel warm and soft against your skin, and you're already wanting more. You sigh as you cock your head to the side to give Eddie more access. He licks the length of your neck, stopping below your jaw. "Everything you do feels so good, Eddie." You sigh lustfully. You turn slightly to face him, looking at him from under your lashes. "Do you want to fuck me now?" You ask, biting your lip.

"Sure thing, dollface. Can you get on your hands and knees for me?" You nod silently, doing as he says. He kneels behind you, gently pressing you downwards. He leaves you resting on your elbows with your ass in the air. He grips his cock, brushing it between your soaked folds, drawing low moans from both of you. He teases you like this for a moment, eager to have you beg him to fuck you. You're so turned on it almost hurts, you need him inside you now.

"Eddie, please stop teasing. I need your dick inside me." You practically whine for him. He chuckles darkly at your pleading.

"Your wish is my command, princess." He says as he slams his cock into you.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out as he hits your g spot perfectly.

"God, you're so wet and tight for me. Fuckin’ gorgeous." He pants, and he begins to thrust in and out of you. You moan continuously, he hammers your sweet spot with each thrust. He smacks your ass, making you yell.

"Fuck, Eddie!" You grip the scattered blankets beneath you for dear life, spots hinder your vision as you're fucked into next week. The sound of your vulgar noises and slapping skin is all you can hear, and it's like the most beautiful music in the world. You're loving every second of this, as is Eddie. But there's something else you crave from him. You don't just want Eddie to fuck you, you want him to do filthy things to you. "Babe, do you mind choking me while you fuck me?" You ask him as he continues to pound into your cunt.

He's taken aback by your request. Not because he's not into it, he definitely is. He's just surprised you want him to do that to you. But he finds your desires to be ridiculously sexy, and who is he to deny you? "Of course, darling. Anything you want." You can hear the smirk in his voice as his ringed hand comes forward, pulling you up by the shoulder. He lays on your back slightly so he can reach your throat. You feel the cool metal that adorns his fingers wrap around your neck, squeezing lightly. You choke out a moan as the pressure makes your head lighten. He loosens his grip for a moment as he continues to fuck you.

"Fuck, you're so hot, Eddie. Keep going. Fuck me, choke me, make me cum, please." You keep moaning and begging for Eddie to have his way with you, and he can't help but give you anything you ask for.

"You're such a dirty girl, Y/N. I fuckin’ love it." His grip on your throat tightens again, and he snaps his hips even harder into you. You're both slicked in sweat, struggling to keep your positions. You're nearing the end again, and you can already tell it's going to be the most intense orgasm you've ever had. Your skin is on fire, your insides like burning coals. Every feeling is amplified, concentrated in your pussy. Every time Eddie's cock enters you, it's like fireworks being set off.

Every curse and dirty request you let out makes Eddie's dick twitch. He can't believe how beautiful and sexy you are like this. He's genuinely in love with you, and his heart pounds in his chest as he races to the finish line. His free hand slithers down between your legs to your clit, rubbing quick circles. You gasp loudly, and his ringed hand tightens around your throat. He uses his arm to hold you in place, rubbing and fucking and choking you simultaneously. Eddie mentally congratulates himself on pulling off such a feat, but maintains focus on making you cum. "I'm so close, babe. Keep going, just like that." You say once his grip loosens again.

"I'm almost there too, princess. Be a good girl and cum for me." He pinches your clit between his fingers, sending you toppling over the edge.

"Eddie! Oh, fuck!" You scream so loud, and you feel your pussy clamp onto Eddie's dick. He groans, feeling his own high take over. He continues to hold you as your legs tremble violently, and juices spurt out of you onto the blankets.

"Jesus, Y/N!" He moans as your walls clench him. He feels your cum rush over his cock, spilling out of you. It feels unbelievable, he's never experienced anything like it. His load empties into you, mixing with your release as his hips buck compulsively a few times. Once Eddie regains composure, he pulls out of you. You whine at the loss, and your combined arousal slowly drips out of you. Eddie stares at the sight for a moment, before wiping it up with his finger. You moan at the overstimulation, and lay on your stomach as you cool down. Eddie lays beside you, trying to get your attention. You turn to him, seeing the gathered cum still on his finger. He brings it to your lips, and you immediately take it in your mouth. You suck it clean, moaning at the sweet taste. "Shit, could you be any hotter, Y/N?"

You just shrug and lean over to kiss him. He melts into you, caressing your cheek. The kiss feels different this time. It's slow and tender, full of love. You eventually break away, and you both lay down again. You place your head on his chest, and he wraps his arms around you. Your leg lays over Eddie’s as you try to be as close to him as possible. Your hand strokes his chest while he plays with your hair. "I love you, Eddie. I'm so glad I met you." You say, barely above a whisper.

"I love you too, Y/N. I don't think I've ever loved anyone like this before." He replies at the same volume. He pulls one of the blankets over the both of you, snuggling into you even more. You can't help but let your eyes flutter closed. You're so content like this. Your heart swells as Eddie's words echo in your mind as you drift off to sleep. He loves you, and you love him. Nothing could ruin this moment. The world could end and you wouldn't care, as long as you get to stay like this with Eddie.

The end.

[sweetheartsnips]

Daddy Cool - Chapter 1 : Jotaro Kujo

First of part of a small series I am working on! Tiny xReader one-shots for my favourite DILFS from JoJo's: - Jotaro Kujo - Diavolo - DIO - Norisuke Higashikata - Joseph Joestar

For other chapters in this series please see my JoJo masterlist

Chapter 1: Jotaro Kujo (Stone Ocean)

Summary: You are Jotaro's pretty co-worker and he gets off to the thought of you.

Tags: Masturbation, age difference (older man/younger woman), professor Jotaro, humiliation for him (kinda)

Words: 1.6k

Read on my ao3

Doctor Kujo had first met you in the faculty lounge. A pair of pretty eyes and a smiling face. But he had really noticed you in the lecture hall. It was supposed to be a simple guest lecture. You were a placeholder, filling in for him whilst he dealt with a timetable clash. The reproductive cycle of large cephalopods wasn’t exactly the most thrilling of topics, even for Marine Bio 121 students, but when he had snuck back into the theatre, you had them all wrapped around your finger.

You had stood at the front of the room, commanding attention with humble confidence and a friendly smile that he had never quite managed to master. There was no over-reliance on PowerPoint slides, no monotone, bland regurgitation of textbook chapters while students half-listened, fantasising about lunch. You had had them engaged– actually engaged. 

There was passion twinkling in your eyes, in the way your hands had moved as you explained the intricate biological details of how a squid reproduces. It should have been ridiculous, really: standing there in a room full of half-asleep undergrads, talking about spermatophores and chromatophores with that kind of fervour. Instead, you looked absolutely enthralled. Like this was the most interesting thing in the world to you. And you were pretty damn convincing.  

Maybe he should have been focused on that, on what he could learn from you as an academic, but his thoughts kept snagging on other details. The way your blazer fit just right, well-tailored and cinched at the waist, the fabric pulling ever so slightly across the front when you gestured wide. The smooth line of your legs in the dark pantyhose as you paced, small court heels clacking against the timber floor, seemingly effortlessly holding their attention. The way your eyes lit up with excitement when a student asked you a question.

Of course, he had never mentioned any of this to you. Doctor Kujo just thanked you for covering his ass, nodded along when students gushed about how good of a teacher you were. But after that, he found reasons to sit in on your lectures to your own classes. To watch the way you made even the driest topics feel vital. And if his gaze lingered on you a little too long when you turned to write on the board—well, maybe he just really liked your handwriting too. That was it. 

But in the quiet of the evening, when he stepped through his front door, body full of tension, what had been haphazardly brushed off as quiet admiration had  now become something that he was absolutely ashamed of. It was then, alone in the dim hush of his home, that Doctor Kujo lost his dignity.

His erection was already tenting in his pants, straining against the fabric, hot and insistent.

He couldn’t.

No.

Guilt curled tight in his stomach, shame clawing at the edges of his restraint. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, not here, not now, not behind your back like this. You were a colleague, a fellow educator. Beautiful, cute, younger than him.

But it seemed his body had already decided for him.

He couldn’t even wait until he was alone in bed.

The belt was off, buckle unfastening with a little clink. Pants shoved down to his knees, breath coming short and uneven as he braced himself against the bathroom sink. Knuckles paling as he held the crisp white porcelain hard enough to almost break. His reflection in the mirror was a disgrace—lips parted, brow furrowed, jaw clenched against the weight of something both desperate and humiliating. 

God, it had been so long.

Since his divorce, since he’d last felt anything close to this—want, need, something raw enough to hollow him out from the inside. To stir his insides and spoon them out like some sort of fucking fruit. 

Was he really this pathetic? Apparently so.

His grip tightened on the sink, his spare hand hastily scrambling to squirt some lotion on his hand with horny urgency. 

Your voice was still in his head—clear as it had been in the lecture hall, warm with enthusiasm, bright with something almost tender as you spoke about something as mundane as squid. You had been enthralled, and now—fuck, so was he.

Balling his hand into a fist, he pressed his thick, leaking tip into the slick vice, squeezing a little around the full girth of his shaft. He couldn’t help but hiss through his teeth at the relief. He had been to one of your lectures this afternoon, and he had been hard since. He needed this.  

He didn’t waste any time. He started fucking his fist with rough, urgent strokes, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, each ragged, shaky breath feeling like a confession, a betrayal. 

He clamped his eyes shut, as if that could stop the images flooding his brain. Jotaro imagined how your tight cunt would squeeze around his fingers–his cock. How messy your face would be if he took you in missionary: how your cute doe eyes would glaze over as he wrecked you, how your jaw would go slack, mouth hanging open in a lewd, breathless moan. How your boobs would bounce in time with his thrusts. He’d fuck you so hard. He wanted to ruin you. 

The guilt sat heavy in his chest, warring with his desire and a heady mix of forbidden need. His hips jerked forward into his own grasp, movements bordering on frantic now, shame and want now tangled too tight to separate. He was so lost.

He let go of the sink, bringing his hand to his mouth to shut himself up. His knuckles pressed against his teeth, biting down hard, a useless attempt to keep quiet.

Why?

There was no one home. Jolyne was at her mother’s. No one to hear him, no one to witness his descent into this mess of lust and shame. He could be as loud as he wanted. Let his moans spill out into the empty space of his house. Yell out your name if he damn well pleased.

But he didn’t.

The shame was too much. Instead, small whispers and moans of your name slipped from his lips like a quiet prayer. 

“Please, baby…..baby girl.” 

The vague images in his mind of you on your back morphed into him bending you over the mahogany of his desk. Your skirt hiked up the back of your thighs, scrunched up around your waist. Your tummy pressed against the wood, your perfect French tips scratching the varnish, how you would look at him if he grabbed a handful of your hair and forced your head back. His handprint on your ass.

Pathetic. He was absolutely pathetic . Here he was, rutting into his own hand like a desperate man at the thought of his cute co-worker that was far too young to ever be interested in him. He was jacking himself off like a teenage boy, like he hadn’t been touched in years—because he hadn’t. 

But he wasn’t stopping now. Hell, he was too far gone. 

Small Japanese curses left his lips as he felt himself get close. Moaning around his finger, husky and wanton. He bit down hard, hips snapping forward into his fist, chasing that inevitable, deliciously terrible release. 

Not bothering to breathe properly, just little strained exhales, and the squelch of the lotion that he imagined was coming from the wetness of your pussy were the only sounds that filled the room. His thighs trembled. His stomach tightened. The tension coiled so tight inside him that for a moment, he thought he might choke. 

He braced himself against the vanity, panting, head bowed. Breath fogging up the mirror. His skin felt too hot, flushed with something ugly and raw. Searing shame and embarrassment. 

Each glide of his palm over his knob, how the butt of his hand brushed up against his balls at the bottom of each stroke, your image behind his eyelids. Fuck, he was going to lose the plot. 

Your voice bounced around in his ears:

“Cum for me, Doctor Kujo…”

What? He tried to bury that thought under his lust, but it was far too late for that. 

He broke.

His whole body went tense and taut, pleasure crashing over him in thick, powerful waves. His hands trembled, and he moaned like he was a girl in a porn video, breathless, weak syllables of your name, over and over. Thick, viscous ropes of cum spurted and pulsed out of his cock and into his hand, all of the pent-up desire for you leaving his body as if it were his atonement. 

His sounds were hardly muffled by his attempts to do so. Embarrassing, needy whimpers escaping from around his finger. He sighed, as if that could rinse the shame from his soul.

For a long moment, all he could do was stand there, panting, his body spent and balls empty, his mind reeling. There was none of the clarity he usually got after getting off. Only heavy, gnawing, shame that scratched at his conscience. 

He forced his eyes open, met his own gaze in the mirror. And there it was again, the weight in his chest, the flush of heat that had cooled too fast. Warm, sticky semen dripped over his knuckles, stark and damning in the dim bathroom light. The undeniable proof of what he had just done. 

He let out a slow, uneven breath, dragging his clean hand down his face. 

He needed a cigarette.

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello! I hope youre well! How would the jofoes react to the realisation of being in love? Also if its not too much could you add PB Dios reaction as well? He's my favorite!

Yes totally! I love PB Dio too, part 1 is iconic. thank you for requesting and here are the headcannons!

Jojo villains realizing they're in love HCs

Dio Brando PB

Initial Reaction: Dio is utterly taken aback. For someone who’s always been in control of his emotions, the concept of love feels like a disruption- an unexpected, inconvenient distraction.

Thoughts: Love? A weakness? Or something that can be used to my advantage?

His ego tells him that he doesn’t need anyone, but there's a tug in his chest when he’s around you. He begins to notice how your presence makes him feel some type of way he’s never experienced before.

Evolution: Dio becomes possessive, more than a little obsessive. He’ll convince himself that he owns you, but his feelings are real. If he sees you with someone else, the irritation he feels is nothing short of explosive.

Action: While he’ll never openly admit it, his need for you will grow both emotionally and physically. He’ll start manipulating situations to keep you close, often in subtle ways, ensuring you see him as the one who can provide everything you need.

Kars

Initial Reaction: Kars is initially confused. He’s never cared for emotional attachments beyond the other pillar men, believing that love is a primitive feeling that doesn’t align with his perfect vision of himself and the world.

Thoughts: I never needed love... I don’t need anyone. But why does my mind keep returning to this…human?

He’ll resist the feelings at first, viewing them as an imperfection and a flaw. But with time, he finds himself drawn to you, fascinated by your existence.

Evolution: Kars doesn’t fully understand love, but he’ll never admit it. Instead, he views you as a necessary partner in his grand plan, yet it doesn’t change the fact that his feelings for you are genuine. He might not say it, but his actions, the way he’ll protect you, pamper you, and make sure no harm comes your way, will show that he cares more deeply than he’s willing to admit.

Action: His love manifests in a cold, pragmatic way. he doesn’t need your affection, but he’ll demand your loyalty. Kars will keep you close, not because he’s insecure, but because you’ve become a part of his vision, a necessary part of his empire.

Wamuu

Initial Reaction: Wamuu, being of a more honorable and warrior like mindset, finds love to be an obligation, a responsibility that some hold in their hearts but not him, at least until now. When he realizes he’s fallen for you, he is overwhelmed by the feeling of protecting and cherishing you.

Thoughts: This... this is different. I have never felt this urge to protect anyone  with my entire being aside from my masters.

He’s a bit confused at first, unsure how to navigate the feeling of wanting someone’s safety as much as his own.

Evolution: He grows to accept it- a deep, loyal love that isn’t possessive, but moreso built on a foundation of respect and strength. His love for you is a quiet, enduring force.

Action: Wamuu will express his love through actions rather than words, always striving to protect and fight by your side. His loyalty to you would be unshakable- if you’re in danger, so is he.

Esidisi

Initial Reaction: Esidisi is initially frustrated by the realization. He’s all about passion and power, but the feeling of love feels softer than his usual feelings, and he’s not sure what to make of it.

Thoughts: I... am in love with this human. How is this possible?

He’ll see love more like an overwhelming, all consuming force, one he can’t fight against. He wants to possess you, but in a way that is deeply rooted in a need to keep you safe and close.

Evolution: Esidisi grows to revel in the feeling. Love becomes an addiction for him, a source of power and strength. He becomes more obsessed, willing to do anything to maintain your affection and devotion.

Action: His love would be intense and slightly overbearing, but never cruel. He’ll spoil you with everything he can offer, while simultaneously warning others that you’re his. Anyone who threatens you will suffer his wrath.

Kira

Initial Reaction: Kira doesn’t know how to handle this. He’s a perfectionist, and love feels messy, untidy. He doesn’t want to lose control, and love seems to demand it.

Thoughts: Why does this person make me feel this way? I don’t need this...

The realization comes slowly, creeping up on him when he notices how his thoughts always return to you. He might try to deny it at first.

Evolution: As much as he tries to control it, Kira becomes obsessed. His love is possessive and suffocating, hidden under the guise of politeness. He doesn’t know how to express it. His love for you will be something more dangerous than anyone realizes.

Action: Kira would try to keep you close, doing small things for you, like buying you gifts and making sure you're always safe, all while making sure not to get too close. His love is twisted, with an underlying need to make you feel like you belong to him. For your sake, he tries to keep his other violent urges at bay.

Diavolo

Initial Reaction: Diavolo would never admit to being in love. He’s obsessed with control and the concept of fate, and love doesn’t fit into his perfect, planned world.

Thoughts: Ridiculous. I am the ruler of this world, and yet... why are my thoughts plagued by this person?

He struggles to accept this weakness, dismissing it at first. But over time, it eats away at him.

Evolution: Diavolo would try to suppress it, but his need for you would grow, and his obsession would turn darker and more desperate.

Action: He’d want to keep you close, ensuring no one else can have you. His love is possessive and manipulative, he’d control everything, from your actions to the people around you, all to maintain his hold on you.

Doppio

Initial Reaction: Doppio is different from Diavolo in many ways. He’s more open to emotions but still caught off guard.

Thoughts: I love this person… Oh, no. What do I do now?

Doppio’s reaction is more pure, filled with excitement and confusion. He wants to express his feelings, but he’s unsure how to proceed without screwing things up. Especially considering not only his job and lifestyle, but his other half.

Evolution: He grows to enjoy this newfound love, feeling elated but still unsure. He’s not as manipulative as Diavolo, but his desire to have you sometimes gets the better of him and he may be a little.

Action: Doppio would be all about taking care of you, always trying to please you and make you feel special. His love is earnest, though he might not always know how to keep it from being too overbearing.

Enrico Pucci

Initial Reaction: Pucci, being a deeply religious man, feels conflicted at first. Love is supposed to be pure, but this feeling is all consuming, and he’s unsure how to reconcile it with his sense of fate.

Thoughts: This... is destiny? The Lord’s will? Or is it a weakness?

His sense of devotion to you intensifies, but it’s tangled with his mission- he might see this love as a stepping stone for his mission.

Evolution: Pucci slowly accepts that love is part of his purpose. He believes it’s all connected to his larger goal, and with that acceptance, his feelings for you grow.

Action: He would express his love through actions more than words, ensuring you’re always safe and cared for. At the same time, his focus on the divine means that your love, in his mind, must be fated: a powerful, unshakable force.

Funny Valentine

Initial Reaction: Funny Valentine views personal attachments as secondary to his greater goal of protecting and elevating his beloved America. When he begins to realize he's in love, his first instinct is to deny it, love is a distraction that could cloud his judgment. His duty must come first.

Thoughts: My… interest in this person…purely cursory…yes, that’s all.

However, Valentine is an intelligent man, and the more time he spends around you, the harder it becomes to ignore the warmth in his chest and the protective instinct rising within him.

Evolution: Valentine has a deeply traditional view of love and courtship. He believes in honor, respect, and chivalry, but these values are always tempered by his pragmatic nature. If he accepts that he's in love, he approaches it in a dignified manner, polite gestures, formal declarations, and acts of service.

Action: He would not allow his love to interfere with his goals but would integrate you into his life as someone to protect and cherish. He's not particularly demonstrative in public, but in private moments, he's affectionate. He enjoys quiet, meaningful moments, like holding your hand while discussing literature or politics.

Diego Brando

Initial Reaction: Diego initially reacts with frustration, seeing love as a weakness and a hindrance to his goals.

Thoughts: What is this? I need to focus on winning. Why does my heart palpitate when they’re around?

He tries to dismiss it, but his obsession with you grows. His ego makes him reluctant to admit it, but he can’t escape the pull you have on him.

Evolution: Diego’s feelings for you become a blend of love and obsession. He’s not afraid to show his desire and possessiveness, though he still tries to maintain control.

Action: He will push you to his side, always ensuring you are his, even if it means manipulating situations to keep you close. His love is passionate but driven by a need for you to belong to him.

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader ( service top ), power bottom!dio, pegging, restraints, degradation, masturbation ( him ), all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day eighteen [ dio brando + pegging ]

you could beg him all you wished.

you could scream and cry your please, masters until your throat was raw, and you choked on the dryness of your own mouth, but he still wouldn’t give you any pleasure. he was determined to make you suffer, and suffer you were doing, exactly.

Dio elicits a soft, throaty chuckle at your pitiful whimper, and he tilts his head to one side, peering down at you. “My, my, is my little possession feeling entitled, today?”

the visage of him hunkered down over you, knees spread wide and balancing on the balls of his feet, was driving you insane. your blurry eyeline trails along the slick, rubber cock that disappears as he descends upon it with a symphony of breathy grunting accompanying the action, and you’re so envious. he takes the fake phallus akin to the way that you usually take his cock, and even from your position, flat on the bed with your arms bound to together at the wrists above your head, you could see the way the pinkish ring clenched around the toy as he fucked it.

“I love that look on your face.” Dio swoons, wrapping one mighty fist around his cock and pumping in merciless, rapid-fire strokes, while his other palm rests on one knee, and he bounces up and down on the toy strapped to your groin. “That envious look. You hate to watch me have all the fun, don’t you?” your master muses, a devious grin etching his lips over sharp, pearly fangs. “What’s the matter? Do you hate me for not letting you feel good, too? Do you want to curse your master for it?”

“N-no, master…” you whine, laying your head to the side, watching him use you, before you added in a soft, pathetic tone, “I just… am begging for you to touch me, too. Or, a-at the very least, let me touch y-you—“ your eyes glue themselves to the way he jerked himself off; you could offer a much softer, warmer grasp. hell, you would even let him spit on your hands until they were dripping, that way your grasp felt more like your drooling cunt.

Dio’s brows screwed into a distasteful scowl as he huffs, and reaches out to plant his free hand on your chest, instead. the power and weight behind the movement is enough to knock the breath from your lungs, and you croak in response, eyelids fluttering. “Do you think me so weak, little fuck slave, that you could bat your eyelashes and pout, and I would give you exactly what you wanted?” he didn’t wait for an answer, sneering, he leans closer, his hips rocking back and forth as he takes to toy to its hilt, and moans in satisfaction. “You want so badly to feel pleasure, too, but your master has no use for your sloppy hole today. I want to get fucked,” his harsh words and the disregard he holds for your own ecstasy adds fuel to the wicked eroticism of this moment— of your master using you for his own gratification. “And, if I have to tie you to the bed and strap a fake cock on you in order to get what I want, I will do so. And you will thank me, once again, for the opportunity to please me; it is a privilege not many are gifted.” his abysmal, razor like fingernails scrape at your chest, dragging along one, hardened nipple, threatening to break your skin, and you shudder. “Because you, my little piece of meat, are little more than furniture to me.”

your eyes roll back at that.

why did your pussy clench when he compared you to furniture?

had Dio Brando truly broken you to the point of getting off for him, even as he demeaned you, and reduced you to nothing of worth?

you gargle a moan, your back arching as if in hopes to drive the dildo deeper into him, but his weight crashes down on you, pinning you in place. “Master!” you cry out, tears in your eyes, as your core weeps for his attention. a flick of his finger, at the very least, underneath the leather harness. “Please! I am going mad!”

“Fuckable furniture.” the rough pad of his thumb scrapes against the slit on his broad, pink tip, before he thrusts himself into his hand, gripping and moaning, swirling his hips to feel every inch of the cock jammed inside of him. Dio throws his head back with a happy grunt. “And furniture doesn’t fucking move. Furniture doesn’t beg for attention when it is owed none. Furniture is silent and subservient, dearest fucktoy.”

[glitchy-npc]

65. "You have to see it for yourself." if you're up for it!

I wrote this in a fever state because the idea hit me so hard, thank you so much for this ask. Pre Rebirth Chargent. Argent's POV.

What am I doing? I think for probably the hundredth time since deciding to come here. The automatic doors slide open faster for me than they would for anyone else, how anyone can tolerate how slow they usually are I'll never understand. But then again, they can't just ask them like I can.

The door man is a professional, he's not even intimidated by me. Most days my status as a Ranger is enough, let alone my reputation as one of the most dangerous women on the west coast. That's not even a brag, if they only knew…

I'm not just dangerous. I'm an apocalypse.

But I'm in control. Of my body anyway, my little friends, but I don't really know how to feel, standing here outside of Ortega's apartment. It's a restless, itchy feeling, the kind that comes with doubt.

I hate doubt.

I ask the doorbell to ring, the cameras that are hidden to anyone but me have probably already dutifully relayed the information back to their master like a dog retrieving prey after a hunt. Cameras are just like that, eager to please. So if I'm caught, hesitation would be useless. And embarrassing.

Julia answers the door quicker than I thought she would, was she waiting? All six feet of her lean in the door way like that stupid tower in Italy, a picture perfect smile stretched across her face.

"Hey Angie."

"Hey." It's better to keep things short with her. Give her and inch and she'll take a mile. "So, why did you call me over?"

"You'll just have to see for yourself." That too bright, too beautiful smile doesn't drop for a second. "It's a surprise."

"I hate surprises."

"I know." She retreats from the door way leaving me only to follow or leave. Asshole. I can't back down now. I have no choice but to follow her into her lair.

Ok, lair was dramatic, maybe I've been watching too many horror movies lately. Her apartment is…nice. Not stylish, not flashy like the clothes she likes to wear but it suits her.

"In here." She waves me into the kitchen.

Deeper into the den. No I already said that was dramatic, maybe I should switch it up to comedies soon.

"I hope you plan on feeding me after I came all the way-" The sarcastic remark sticks my throat that's not my throat when I see whats on the kitchen table.

It's a cake, a beautiful one, all pink shell piping and delicate little roses, and in the middle, the hardest part to miss, are the words Happy Birthday Angie.

I freeze and hate myself for it, feeling far more prey than predator. No, just off guard, I can bounce back from this, I have to, this is…

"It's not my birthday." It's a shaky recovery but I'm gaining my footing again. It's even the truth, it's not even the fake birth date that's in my file. What's Ortega's angle?

"Well maybe I'm late." Julia takes a seat at the table. "Or early, you wouldn't tell me so I had to take matters into my own hands."

"Oh did you?" I find myself taking a seat despite my better instincts.

"Mm hmm, believe it or not you're not the first secretive bastard I've dealt with when it comes to birthdays." She says as a matter of fact as she cuts two slices from the cake, handing one to me. I take a tentative bite, and then another, and another, its infuriatingly delicious, not to mention my friends are hungry too. We must have been too eager because she notices.

"Dios mio do you even ch- I mean, do you like it?" She's looking at us, me, funny.

"It's fine." But she's still looking at me, like a puzzle she needs to figure out, so I need to change tactics. Or even fight dirty. "Did you used to do this for Sidestep?"

"Ah." Julia deflates a little. "Yeah, got me there." An uncharacteristically nervous fidget. A tell, or a distraction?

But she looks at me. Looks at me with her too brown, too sincere eyes and therein lies the problem. Her eyes betray that she's still in love with Sidestep. My eyes betray nothing, sliver slick mirrors, until they aren't.

She's a mess, and I'm a monster. A B-movie plot that would never work out in real life.

She tried. And I'm grateful, even when it hurts. But I can't play second role to a ghost.

"Thanks, for the cake." I take another too big bite.

"Anytime." And she means it. It doesn't hurt less.

[strwbrychffoncke]

my baby, my baby 5.8k words

synopsis: glimpses into the life of jonathan joestar & his beloved child

content: alt. timeline (obv)... femchild! reader & dad!jonathan (platonic if that wasn't obvious), pure wholesome fluffy family, dio appearance (dio hates kids but not really LOL) ,lovesick!jonathan & erina ,dio has a job in law + jonathan in archeology like in canon (but they're not explicitly mentioned lol?) ,use manor + estate interchangeably.. jonathan ,erina + dio live in said estate ,dio v ooc (LOL) ,looooooots of petnames ,angst in the last part if you squint but its mostly resolved ,age between each section isn't stated but implied (kinda goes from infant to maybe 4+ yrs old?) ,i didnt do much research for the time period so if anything is out of place no it isnt.... i think that's it disclaimer: this is fiction so dunno if things mentioned are 100% as i have never cared for children myself ,but my mom works w kids/babies & i asked her a lot to try to incorporate it into my writing... for that reason i ask for your understanding if anything is "off" ; regardless ,i hope its still enjoyable <3

-

jonathan can't think of any particular moment throughout his life that made his heart swell with quite as much joy as it was at this moment.

"watch her head... there you go. isn't she the cutest?"

jonathan can find no words to respond as he gazes down at his child, eyes shining as a pair of curious e/c ones stare right back.

even though he's held you many times the past couple of days, he doesn't think he'll ever get used it.

erina giggles at his awestruck expression, already seeing a clear resemblance between you both.

you must also be amused at your father's expression, as your tiny nose scrunches and you let out a giggle of your own, eyes bright and playful.

jonathan thinks it's one of the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard.

his eyes grow glossy, shifting his gaze to his wife.

"she's perfect."

he's beaming, as if he himself were radiating light.

erina can only spare a kiss for him before they both lock their loving gazes onto you.

-

erina thinks she finds a little too much amusement in seeing her 189 cm hunk of a husband cradling his little baby with so much care, as if she were made of glass.

when your cries rang out in the middle of the night and reached their shared bedroom, he was the first one up, telling erina to keep resting, he'd take care of it as he quickly made his way to your nursery just down the hallway from them.

as he swiftly entered, despite the maid's assurances that she could handle it, he was insistent that he wished to, instead requesting she fetch one of your milk bottles from the kitchen.

as she made her way out, jonathan was quick to lift you from your crib, rocking you in his arms to calm you.

"now, now, papa's here. shhh, you're alright."

your cries slowly begin to seize just as erina (having followed her husband out of curiosity) arrives, standing by the door.

she watches as jonathan brings you towards his chest, resting your tiny head on his shoulder as he softly pats your back, humming softly to you, your expression becoming serene.

in no time at all, the maid returns with a bottle of warm milk, bowing at erina standing by the door before stepping back inside.

"here's the bottle as requested, master joestar. i will leave it here," she leaves it on the nearby dresser before bowing, making her way towards the door again.

"thank you, delia" he whispers at her as she makes her leave once more.

she stops at the door, gesturing at erina to enter, but she only shakes her head.

"that's okay," she whispers. "i have a lovely view here" she muses.

the maid nods in understanding, returning to her quarters grinning to herself at how lovesick the couple are with one another.

jonathan adjusts you so you're cradled in his arms once again, seeing you still awake, staring back at him.

"are you hungry, little one?" he asks, reaching for the bottle. "would you fancy a midnight snack?"

he shakes the bottle for emphasis before offering it to you.

you take some grateful sips, downing half the bottle in no time before jonathan decides thats enough. he then holds you vertically against his shoulder, secured by his arm and softly pats your back.

in no time at all, you burp, in which jonathan takes another look at you to see your sleepy eyes.

"ready for bed again, little one?" he whispers, booping your nose before carefully placing you back in your crib.

as you wriggle around, sinking into the plushness below you, jonathan takes a seat in the rocking chair next to you before grabbing ahold of one of the bars, and gently rocking your crib, resuming his humming from earlier.

in no time at all, your eyes shut, and you're fast asleep once again.

despite this, jonathan stays for another five or so minutes, admiring you once again, thanking the stars for blessing him with this lovely little treasure.

erina, having stayed for the entire exchange, feels her heart melting, overflowing with so much love for you, her sweet blessing and her darling husband.

overwhelmed with feelings, she walks into the room for the first time that night, making her way straight towards jonathan and wrapping her arms around his neck from beside him, engulfing him in an embrace.

jonathan looks up, realizing who has joined him.

"erina?! i thought you were still sleeping.." he whispers.

"i wanted to see you put the baby back to sleep, and she listens to you so easily. i wonder if you should be given this duty permanently," she teases.

jonathan huffs out a quiet laugh.

"she's too precious, isn't she?"

"she is," she nods, kissing his head.

jonathan yawns, and erina smiles down at him.

"you know" she begins. "she's been asleep for quite awhile now." she unwraps one arm from around his neck, reaching for his hand still rocking your crib.

"its time for you to get back to bed now, don't you think?"

"ah, but-"

"you'll hear her if she wakes again, but im sure that won't happen. come now," she muses, tugging at his hand, prompting him to stand from his spot on the chair.

"alright, alright. lead the way, love."

-

"ah- careful there, darling!"

a baby living in such a large estate might have been more dangerous than initially imagined. sure, jonathan promptly had the house baby-proofed from top to bottom almost as soon as you began exploring it yourself via crawling...

but you were of joestar blood, and as such, it seemed that trouble followed you wherever you went.

for one, jonathan would prefer not to have a repeat of the time when he left you unattended for what he swore was just a few moments when, while you were exploring the second story of the estate, you collided with dio in the hallway.

rather than crying, you only looked up in wonder, a pair of displeased eyes staring back at you.

jonathan emerged from his room following the sounds of your babbles as dio held you by the back of your onesie, your legs dangling in the air, demanding jonathan "keep a closer eye on his brat" before jonathan quickly snatched you up and began fussing over you.

he chastised dio, demanding he be more careful with you, but dio had already walked off before jonathan could finish.

that day, jonathan decided that he would only allow you to crawl around so long as you were in his sight, lest another instance like that were to happen again.

like right now, as he paused his reading of the morning paper to take a few quick strides, scooping you up before you could bump your head on the leg of the coffee table.

he lets out a sigh as you wriggle in his hold, turning you over to face him, a silly smile on your face.

"you really must be more careful, my dear. where does all of your energy spring from, hm? quite the reckless one, aren't you?"

almost in response to his light chastising, you only giggle, wriggling around more in his hands.

"and you only laugh? what am i going to do with you, hm?" jonathan shakes his head, a smile on his face.

you only reach out your hands towards him.

he promptly responds by pulling you into his embrace, securing you in one arm and resting your head on his shoulder as he makes his way back to his chair, picking the paper back up.

he straightens it out before shifting his attention towards you.

"lets read the news together, yes? you always like when papa reads to you, don't you?"

you push yourself up slightly, turning towards the paper in your father's hands, looking over the black and white ink.

jonathan takes this as the sign that you're ready, and begins reading the nicer stories to you, pointing towards the photographs so you can take a look at them for yourself.

some time passes before erina enters, notifying you both that breakfast is ready.

jonathan wraps up the news story he was on before putting the paper down, securing you before lifting you up with him as he rises from his armchair, striding towards the kitchen.

he shares a sweet kiss with erina at the door before handing you over to her after you reach out for your mother.

"well hello there, little one. did you have fun with papa? you must be hungry, yes?"

she follows jonathan to the kitchen table, seating you in your baby chair as her and jonathan begin their usual morning chatter.

you were mostly distracted with your meal, but would stare at your parents, almost appearing to listen to what they were speaking so enthusiastically about.

taking note of this, they both would ask for your opinion on something, or inquire what you wished to do for the day. even though you hadn't spoken, your babbles answered their questions: this topic was boring, that businessman looked quite silly the other night, didn't he? and the garden sounded like a lovely place to spend the afternoon.

-

"ohhh, aren't you the cutest?"

"that little outfit is adorable!"

"she looks just like you, jonathan!"

he can only let out a hearty laugh and agree with the ladies that are cooing at you.

ever since you were born, jonathan took plenty of pride in picking out your outfits, maybe even having more fun than erina, spending more money than he should on anything he thought might suit you.

as a gentleman, he not only took pride in his actions, but also in his appearance. this, of course, extended to you, his beloved child.

today, jonathan has dressed you in a sky blue colored dress with a small, matching sunhat adorned with a cute ribbon and little black slip-on shoes, secured with little buckles and gold buttons on each side.

its no wonder the ladies can't help but to admire you.

"i remember when you were young... and now you're all grown up with a child of your own! ah, how quickly they grow..." one of the ladies reminisces.

jonathan laughs again before speaking up.

"i know the feeling" he smiles. "this one teaches me something new everyday, though," his voice takes on a playful tone, "she always knows how to keep me on my toes!"

the lady smiles fondly. "yes, children will do that to you! where are you two headed today? and where is the missus?"

"ah, my sweet wife wasn't feeling too well, so we're out to fetch her some medicine, isn't that right, darling?" he looks down at you.

you only babble in response.

"the poor thing.. i hope she recovers quickly. best to not keep your missus waiting now, off you go!" one of the ladies begins to shoo jonathan towards the direction of the shops.

"yes, we shall be going now. we'll chat again, yes? till next time!" he waves at them before making his way off with you.

after reaching a considerable distance away, he thinks aloud.

"hmm, perhaps i shouldn't have dressed you so cutely today... that's the third time we've been stopped. i suppose no one can resist your charm, can they darling?"

you only hum in response, looking up towards your father's voice, hidden behind the shield of the stroller.

"i hope erina is doing okay... we just have to get some medicine for your mother, but id also like to get her some soup.."

you babble at the mention of your mother.

"you must miss her, yes? then let's make this quick, ok darling?"

you agree with some happy babbles.

before long, you both have retrieved some cold medicine for your mother, along with some soup (of which jonathan had your help in picking out), quickly making your way back to the estate just after noon.

. . .

"how is she?"

"welcome back master joestar," the maid bows, smiling at you in his arms before taking jonathan's bag as he removes his coat, hanging it up before taking a hold of it once more.

"she's alright, it doesn't seem too serious. the maids have been taking turns caring for the madame, but she's been mostly resting."

jonathan breathed out a sigh of relief at the maid's update.

"thank you for watching her. i'll be going to see her now," he turned towards the stairs before the maid speaks up again.

"shall i take the little one off your hands in the meantime?"

"no need, we'll be going to see her together," he offers a grateful smile back to her before ascending the staircase.

. . .

the door to the bedroom cracks open, jonathan taking quiet steps inside.

he quickly makes his way to the large bed, taking a seat in the nearby chair to erina's side as he sets you down on the closest empty spot of the mattress.

"erina, dear, we're back.. we have some medicine and soup for you," jonathan coos softly as he reaches the back of his hand forward to check her forehead.

erina stirs, bleary eyes opening to see her darling husband and, to her surprise, you.

she finds the strength to sit herself up (with the help of jonathan propping up some pillows for her) quickly shooting jonathan a look.

"jojo! what if she gets sick?"

"nonsense!" he waves her off, though her stare remains stern. "oh, don't give me that look! she missed you too, didn't you, love?"

you only hum, reaching out for your mother.

your cute gesture breaks her stern façade, and she can't help but break into a little grin.

"my sweet loves," she smiles, patting your head as jonathan fishes out the medicine and wrapped soup from the bag.

"allow me to feed you your soup and medicine, erina."

jonathan opens up a bottle, pouring it out carefully on a silver spoon before holding it up to erinas lips.

"come now, open up."

erina does as she's told, jonathan quickly feeding her the medicine.

you watch your parents intently, tilting your head at your mother's expression after swallowing the medicine down.

jonathan sees this, and laughs, gesturing to the bottle he's closing.

"it doesn't taste very good, you see."

jonathan hands her the glass of water by her bedside (presumably left there from the maids from earlier) before opening the soup.

"the little one picked this one out, so hopefully it's to your liking," he explains, dipping in another spoon and stirring it up before softly blowing and offering it to erina.

as soon as she takes the first spoonful jonathan offers, her eyes light up & she hums in delight.

"why, this one is my favorite! how did you know, little one?" she asks, booping your nose, causing you to smile.

"you hear that? you did a great job picking this out for mama, yes? perhaps you'll have to come shopping with papa more often!" jonathan praises, smiling at you.

you giggle, your eyes shifting back to your mother.

"m-"

"ma-"

"mama!"

erina's eyes are wide as she stares at you in wonder, wondering if she heard right or if her feverish mind was playing tricks on her.

though, she quickly realizes its real when jonathan is so shocked that the spoon in his hold slips from his hand and clatters to the floor.

"darling, did you-"

"pa-pa!"

jonathan's eyes are glistening.

"she spoke! did you hear that, erina? she spoke!"

jonathan sets the soup down by the bedside table momentarily in favor of lifting you up into his arms.

he holds you at eye level before speaking "say it again, darling, pa-pa, go on!"

erina let's out a laugh, reaching over the small distance to place a small kiss to your head.

"she did say 'mama' first, though.." she teases.

"come on, one more time for papa!"

you only wriggle around in his hold in response.

the rest of the afternoon is spent together, jonathan feeding erina her soup (after a maid happened to come by and bring a clean spoon upon jonathan's request) until its gone, the two marveling once again at their little bundle of joy.

jonathan can't resist letting every maid that comes into the room to check-in of your first spoken words.

-

to everyone's surprise, as you grew, you developed a strange attachment to none other than dio.

which would result in some... more than bizarre situations, such as the one currently unfolding.

"JOJO!"

not a minute after his name is shrills through the hallway does dio barge into jonathan's office, playful giggles following his heavy footsteps.

jonathan has a hard time controlling his laughter seeing you, his sweet child, wrapped around dio's left leg like a koala, a heavy contrast to dio's complete and utter displeasure.

"get this monkey off of me this instant!"

"up! up..!"

"you want to go up, you little mongrel?" he looks down at you, almsot baring his teeth as if you just challenged him to a fight. "ill lift you up alright.."

"dio, be car-"

dio lifts his leg, lifting you easily with him, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

even as he shakes his leg continously and even swings you around, you don't relent, and simply think you're playing some sort of game.

the only rule was to not let go of dio's leg.

jonathan is both worried and amused at the situation, a smile slipping through his expression as he carefully watches to ensure you don't get hurt from being violently thrashed about.

after a minute of this, dio puts his leg back down, standing properly as you straighten yourself, never losing your grip on him.

he turns his attention back to jonathan.

"does she have glue for hands??? get this brat off!"

"she's just having fun, dio.. she's not hurting anyo-"

"like hell! im busy, get your little spidermonkey off of me so that i may work in peace!" he spits.

"come now, darling.. playtime with uncle dio is over now," he reasons, holding his hands out and gesturing for you to come to him. "why not sit with papa for awhile, hm?"

you whine at your father's suggestion, looking back up at dio before pulling lightly at his clothes.

"again again..."

"no you brat, im busy!"

you frown, looking up at dio with those big, shiny puppy-dog eyes, silently pleading.

"that won't work on me, brat. get off."

you blink up at him.

"don't make me repeat myself."

you blink again.

...

"..later. bother me later when i'm not working. now, off!"

at the same time that you let go, he shakes his left leg, prompting you to fall backward with an oof and a giggle.

"annoying little pest," dio mutters, but jonathan catches the light tugs at the edges of dio's lips before he promptly makes his way back to his own office, the sound of the door shutting behind him echoing throughout the hallway.

jonathan shakes his head, attention completely on you.

"are you alright, dear? here, up you go," jonathan leans down to reach you, lifting you up with ease and sitting you down on his lap.

"quite the troublemaker, aren't you. why do you wish to play with dio so bad, hm? isn't he mean?"

jonathan was genuinely curious. no matter how many times he called you names and shooed you off, you always wound up running back to him, trying to get him to play with you.

and whether it was your cute charm or your continuous insistence, dio would almost always concede at some point.

you shake your head, and with your limited speech, utter "only grumpy.. but he.. always plays" you smile.

"hmm.. he's not more fun than papa, surely?"

you blink up at your father, tilting your head at the inquiry.

"ah! you wound me. papa's definitely more fun, like this," he says, suddenly dancing his fingers across your sides, causing loud giggles to fill the room.

"pa-pa! st-oop" you cry in between giggles.

"im more fun, aren't i?" he continues.

"papa is- f-uu- fun!" you cry out, unable to stop laughing.

jonathan grins triumphantly, stopping his ministrations, opting to hold you steady instead as you catch your breath.

"i knew thats how you truly felt," he boops your nose.

"would you like to stay here with papa?"

you nod happily.

"alright then, thank you for keeping me company, little one."

the late afternoon is spent together as you watch your father sort through and fill out various documents, taking small breaks to chat or play with you or taking a stroll through the second story to stretch his legs. if you so desired, he'd read the documents out loud to you, but seeing as you'd bore of it quite quickly, he'd opt to try explaining his work to you in a way you might better understand. whatever the case, basking in each others' company was the finest way to spent such an afternoon.

-

tap tap tap tap

pitter patter pitter patter

...

tap tap tap tap

pitter patter pitter patter

...

tap tap tap

pitter patter pitter-

"stop it, danny!"

jonathan looks up from where he's seated, turning towards the sound of your voice.

"has he done something, darling?"

you look from danny (who's standing in front of you, wagging his tail and softly panting) towards your father.

"he won't stop following me, papa!"

so thats what those footsteps were...

while busying himself in the living area, he couldn't help but notice the sound of footsteps going back and forth across the shiny tile.

he must have been following you for awhile then.

he tries his best to stifle his laugh at the sight of your cute pouting face, staring down danny as he only pants at you, wagging his tail, none the wiser to your anger.

"well, what's the reason for that, huh boy?"

danny shifts his attention to jonathan at the sound of his name before looking back at you, almost expectantly.

"danny!" you whine.

thats when jonathan notices something in your hands.

"whats that, darling?"

you turn to your father, pausing for a moment before looking down at your hands to see what he's referring to.

"a snack!"

jonathan glances back at danny, still staring at you, or, more specifically the treat in your hands.

"i think ive figured out why he's following you, my dear"

your eyes widen momentarily, and jonathan is internally gushing at how cute your expression looks as it morphs from shock to realization as you look at your snack and back at danny.

you can't help but to gasp.

"papa, he's hungry!"

he lets out a laugh at this.

"well, would you like to give him a treat then, dear? he's been waiting so politely for awhile now, hasn't he?"

"yes!"

"let me go grab one then." jonathan pulls himself up from the comfy cushions, making his way into the kitchen to retrieve the dog treats from their spot in the pantry, fishing one of them out.

as you wait, you frown at how long it took you to realize the reason for danny following you around, taking another bite from your treat.

"im sorry, danny.." you speak sadly.

jonathan returns with the package of treats, danny's gaze flicking from yours to his, perking up in an instant as he taps his front paws, still seated.

"here darling, ill hold your treat while you give this to him, yes?"

you nod, holding out your snack with both hands, jonathan easily retrieving it with one and plopping the dog treat in its place.

you grip onto the treat, taking a couple of steps towards danny, and offering it to him.

"here you go, danny."

he reaches forward, closing the distance and gently but quickly snatching the treat from your hands before happily chowing down on it in front of you both.

"there, now he shouldn't be causing you anymore trouble." jonathan nods, offering your snack back to you.

you take it back with both hands, nodding before taking a big bite.

after swallowing, another realization hits you, and you're holding your treat (or the little thats left of it) out to your father.

"are you hungry too, papa? would you like any?"

his heart is struck by how thougtful you are.

"now that you mention it, i am feeling a bit peckish," he smiles. "but you can finish this one. i think papa is going to grab a couple for himself."

"i want another one, too!"

"lets go together then, yes?" before you can answer, he scoops you up into his arms, prompting a delighted laugh to ring through the room, one of his favorite sounds.

as he begins to make quick strides towards the kitchen once more, you shove the remainder of your snack into your mouth.

he finds the treats in no time, grabbing three and handing one to you before holding out his as you softly knock them together as adults would with their wine glasses.

"we'll keep this a little secret from mommy, alright? i dont think she'd like that im allowing you such a sweet treat just after lunch."

"secret!" you chime in a whisper, nodding before you both take a bite of your treats.

after you both finish and rid of the evidence, the rest of the afternoon is spent with your father in the living area as he works, busying yourself with the various children's books before you drift off in the comfort of the sofa.

the sun warms the spot in where you rest, jonathan covering your body with a thin blanket before resuming his work, keeping a watchful eye on you as the peaceful atmosphere envelops the both of you, wishing nothing more than for more and more days spent just like this.

-

"but im not sleepyyyy," you whine once again.

"come now, darling, papa has to leave soon and you need to be asleep before then."

you crossed your arms, looking away and pouting.

as you grew, so too did the hours in which you were allowed to stay up. usually, you would sleep without a fuss, or even drift off when you weren't even trying to.

jonathan was always especially grateful that you slept so well and easily. he had heard stories of other women barely managing a wink of sleep as their little ones seemed to never stop crying, and growing restless in the night even as they grew.

but ever since you were a baby, you seemed to sleep soundly for the most part, and jonathan always thanked the graces of the heavens that you never really put up a fuss.

well, until now.

he guesses he can only blame himself for this one.

to lull you to sleep, ever since you were a little baby either him or erina would sing you a lullaby while rocking you until your eyes slipped shut and you were resting in the land of dreams.

as you grew, the lullabies shifted to bedtime stories. sometimes from books or sometimes it would be stories that jonathan would recount to you yet exaggerate.

more often than not, you would fall asleep in the middle of such stories, but for the times that you would power all the way through, you would still sleep within minutes of the story finishing, dreaming up fantasy lands or adults talking business that you were none the wiser about.

which is why jonathan is so puzzled now, staring at your pouting form, wracking his brain for ways to coax you into bed.

"come on, darling, its past your bedtime by now."

you shake your head once again.

"what is it, love? talk to papa."

you sit down on your bed, arms still crossed, letting out a huff.

"not sleepy."

jonathan is supposed to leave for a business trip in just under an hour, and since erina was feeling a little exhausted that day, he had no problem tucking you into bed before having to head off, figuring he'd have more than enough time to let you rest and check over everything before taking off.

but now, almost 20 minutes has passed and there was still no progress.

he wonders why tonight of all nights was the one in which you had to put up a fight.

"please darling, you're making things very difficult for me. papa has to leave soon and i can't leave knowing you're awake."

"why do you have to go?" your voice comes out sad.

"a business trip, my darling, i won't be gone for long."

"papa is always working now."

you weren't really wrong he had to admit, but he still tried his best to make time for you and erina.

"you're always leaving us," you continue.

"you don't even have time to read to me anymore..." your voice comes out meek at that, and jonathan feels his heart break.

"that's-" true, he thinks. he really hadn't had time to read to you these days, and that was mostly left to erina or even sometimes dio of all people (though, rather than reading, he would more times than not be bickering with you until you eventually dozed off).

the thought of you feeling like you've been neglected by him for even a second almost shatters him completely.

"darling.. look at me, please."

at his soft plea, you turn your head to look at your father.

"i'm sorry papa hasn't been around as much as i want to be. after this trip, papa will have lots of freetime, so i want you to think about how you'd like to spend it, alright?"

your eyes are wide, but you still don't full trust his words.

"for tonight, how about papa reads to you before he leaves?"

you visibly perk up at the notion, trying to hide how excited you are at the thought.

still feigning your resistance, you only nod in response, picking out a nearby favorite of yours, shoving it into your fathers hands, and crawling over to the pillows to lay down properly.

jonathan gives a short laugh, moving to help you out, properly tucking you in before sitting on the nearby chair next to your bed.

he smiles at the title, opting to say nothing about how you probably know this story by heart and could confidently recite it for the both of you from start to finish, opening the thin book to the first page, and beginning to read.

not even getting halfway through the story, your eyelids begin to droop despite your best efforts to stay awake, wanting to relish in all the time with your father as you can.

noticing this, jonathan proceeds to finish the page, and noticing your mostly-asleep state, begins to close the book and set it back in its spot on the small bedside table.

before he can get up, a light knock interrupts the quiet of the bedroom before its opened by one of the maids.

"master joestar," she bows politely, taking notice of you before speaking softly. "the carriage has arrived for you."

"thank you, i will be down in just a moment" he nods.

"of course. i will begin loading your luggage for you, master," she nods again before disappearing behind the door, closing it softly behind her.

jonathan shifts his attention back to you, petting your head before placing a kiss onto your cheek.

he stands up, just about ready to make his leave when your sleepy voice stops him in his tracks.

"do you really have to go, papa?"

his eyes shift over to you once again, meeting with your sad, sleepy gaze.

he crouches down to the bed's level, words coming out softly.

"i do, darling, but papa will be back in no time at all."

"can i..." you're interrupted by a yawn. "can i go with you?"

jonathan smiles sadly, petting your head.

"not this time, darling. im sure your mother wouldn't allow it, and you'd surely be bored out of your little mind," he relays, tapping your head for emphasis before resuming his petting.

"i miss you, papa."

"it will just be for a week, darling."

"thats for forever!" you pout, puffing your cheeks out.

jonathan pokes one.

"it'll be over before you know it. and once i return, papa will have plenty of stories to tell you each night after we have fun together, alright?"

"papa?"

"yes, darling?"

you look up at him, eyes hopeful.

"will you really be able to read to me again?"

"of course, my darling. im so sorry i've been slacking, papa hasn't been very consistent with it these days, have i?"

you shake your head.

"i wont forgive you."

jonathan holds his free hand over his chest, as if your words have physically wounded him.

"is there nothing papa can do to earn his baby's forgiveness?" he softly cries, exaggerated.

you giggle, thinking for a moment before coming up with something.

"only if papa reads or tells me stories every night, and plays with me and danny in the garden."

"thats no problem at all!"

you yawn again, sinking deeper into your plush mattress.

"would you like papa to bring you something back?"

"some treats?"

"don't i always," he ruffles your hair affectionately.

another soft knock interrupts the moment, the door opening once more to reveal the same maid from before.

"your luggage has been packed, the carriage is all ready for you, master joestar," she bows.

jonathan turns his head, offering a polite smile.

"thank you, delia. i'll be on my way now."

she nods, bowing her head seeing your gaze on her before disappearing behind the door once again.

he turns back to you, looking at your droopy eyes.

"papa has to go now," he whispers. "but i'll be back soon enough, and we'll have much more time together again, alright darling?"

you offer a sleepy nod, sad yet understanding.

"okay, papa."

"sleep now, darling."

"papa?"

"yes, my darling?"

"i love you."

his heart swells.

"and i love you, my princess."

he gives you another kiss on your cheek, then your nose and head, eliciting some sleepy giggles from you.

he hugs you, and you hug him back, feeling safe and secure in his embrace.

he soon lets go, standing up and taking a step back from your bed.

he gives your head one last caress before stepping towards the door and turning the knob.

he takes one last longing look at you, seeing your breaths even out as you slip into slumber.

"sleep well, my darling."

he turns the light out, opening the door quietly before disappearing behind it, shutting it softly behind him.

he lets out a sigh, already missing you.

on his way down the stairs of the manor, he swore to himself to never make you feel neglected or the faintest bit unloved by him ever again.

the expression on your face was too much to handle once again, just the thought making his heart drop.

though, the feeling soon faded remembering your laughter and recalling your sweet words.

you really were his precious princess, and he would do anything for you if only it kept you happy.

-

a/n: i was possessed months ago to start writing this and possessed once again a couple of days ago before allowing myself to write/post anything else before it. ive been editing this for so long that my head hurts so if there's any spare typos ill end it all. i still have ideas but this is enough for now, i need to lie down.... see you soon :x i couldnt help but read the dialogue in british accents in my head every read through lmao (thats the only right way after all)

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗔 𝗣𝗔𝗟𝗔𝗕𝗥𝗔 franco colapinto x girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary , it's your aneversairy dinner with colapinto, this year you wanted o gift him something special: speaking his language (0.5k)

( main master list | more of franco colapinto ) ( requests )

The restaurant’s tucked into a quiet corner of Milan, the kind of place where the pasta is hand-rolled and the waiters don’t bother with menus. Franco had picked it for your anniversary, all dim lights and intimate corners, a little too classy for how much you wanted to climb across the table and kiss him breathless.

He grins from across the table, chin propped in his palm, curls just messy enough to be illegal.

“Tenés esa mirada,” he hums, wagging a fork at you.  [you’ve got that look]

You raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“I said you’ve got that look. The ‘I’m up to something and you’re not ready’ look. Classic vos.”

You fight the smile. He’s not wrong.

He’s been rambling for minutes — about how he saw a dog on the way here that reminded him of a loaf of bread, how he couldn’t focus on reading the team brief this morning because "vos me distraés demasiado, boluda" [you distract me too much, idiot] — and you’ve let him go on. Let him fill the space with stories and laughter, his fingers dancing in the air like punctuation.

But then the waiter comes over. And you strike.

“Buenas noches. Vamos a empezar con la burrata y el carpaccio, por favor. Y después . . . el risotto de setas para mí, y él quiere la pasta al pesto. Ah, y una copa de Malbec, por supuesto.” [good evening. we'll start with the burrata and carpaccio, please. and then… the mushroom risotto for me, and he wants the pesto pasta. oh, and a glass of malbec, of course]

The fork slips from Franco’s fingers like his soul just left his body.

“ . . . ¿Qué?” […what]

You lean back, all cool and casual, sipping your water like you didn’t just short-circuit your boyfriend.

“¿Querés pan o estás bien?” [do you want bread or are you good]

“¿Desde cuándo hablas español así?!” [since when do you speak Spanish like that]

You shrug. “Been practicing. I wanted to surprise you. Happy anniversary, mi amor.”

He stares at you, stunned.

Franco Colapinto? Speechless? Nobel-level achievement.

“You’re insane,” he breathes, laughing now, eyes shining. “This is . . . This is better than points at williams.”

“Oh, that important?”

“Sí. Porque vos… Dios, vos me dejás sin palabras.” [yes. Because you… god, you leave me speechless.)

You grin. “That a good thing?”

“The best thing.”

He reaches across the table, threading his fingers through yours, thumb brushing your knuckles like he’s grounding himself.

“Vos no sabés lo que esto significa para mí,” he murmurs. [you have no idea what this means to me]

You do, actually. You know about the sacrifices, the grind, the childhood kart weekends running on empanadas and duct tape. You know his heart — how big it is, how much it carries. And you learned his language not just for the words, but for him.

For the boy who talks too much and feels too deeply. For the man who’s yours.

“Te amo,” you say softly. [i love you]

And for once, Franco doesn’t have a witty comeback. Just a crooked smile, a kiss pressed to your knuckles, and eyes that say everything else.

[dewdrop-writes]

Blood of Ambition - Chapter 2: Reflections in Ash

Dio Brando x (f) Reader

I feel odd writing specifically fem readers but for this specific storyline it made most sense so idk

cw: canon-typical violence, Dio still very much committing atrocities

<<Previous || Next>>

Dio’s life had taken a drastic turn. After a long journey in a carriage—the first time he had ever travelled in one—he arrived to a truly remarkable sight. The manor stood grand and sturdy, with intricate, towering windows that allowed light to flood in from every angle, capped with a glimmering deep-green roof. It didn’t seem real. He knew that the upper class enjoyed the finer things in life, but not a single townhouse or hovel from his old neighbourhood could compare to the Joestar estate.

He quickly steeled his expression. He had to play his cards right, and appearing as a wide-eyed street rat in awe of the Joestar fortune was not an option. With a deliberate, arrogant stride, he exited the carriage, eager to close the chapter of his life that had led him here—and tear it from his story entirely.

Dio was not fond of the Joestar brat. The boy stood in the way of his ambitions merely by existing. Born into wealth and privilege, yet awkward and unpolished, Jonathan was a paradox Dio despised. He, himself, had learned to harden his heart long ago, so he felt no qualms about unleashing his cruelty.

With startling ease, he found he could toy with the boy however he pleased, facing no consequences. It took only a few sweet words, a carefully crafted look, and the old man was won over. Dio relished how his own charm outshone Jonathan’s in every way, from speech to manner. The twisted pleasure he felt when Lord Joestar scolded his son for his lacklustre performance was something he had grown to nurture.

Of course, usurping Jonathan’s place as heir wouldn’t be so easy. Dio had to pull out every stop, and he did so with calculated precision. He humiliated the boy in front of his friends, slowly isolated him, and made every move with the skill of a seasoned chess master. He gathered a new flock of followers, more refined than those he’d manipulated in London, though they were still nothing more than sheep in his eyes.

But it wasn’t enough. His thirst for cruelty only grew, as did his hunger for control. He supposed his resilience and willingness to dirty his hands was the one gift from his father that he appreciated. To secure his place, he knew he had to break Jonathan completely. He had thought he’d succeeded in crushing the boy’s spirit by ridding him of that infernal dog, but Jonathan’s resilience surprised him. Now, he had somehow even acquired a female companion.

Dio hadn’t completely forgotten you—the one person he might’ve once dared to call a friend. Occasionally, his thoughts would drift away from his ambitions, back to the streets of London.

How were you doing?

There was little he could do to satisfy his curiosity; your world was days away, with not even an address to tether it to his own. He had been deliberate, ruthless in shedding the remnants of his past, moulding himself into something that could pass for nobility. Yet, some part of him was concerned. Were you still stealing? Begging for scraps? Had you been caught by the Yard without his guidance to shield you?

Then there was Erina, entering Jonathan’s life with her soft kindness, her eyes filled with that same warmth that you once showed him. A subtle jealousy mingled with resentment. He found himself wondering: what would you think if you saw him now, standing in the shadow of the Joestar fortune?

Dio felt nothing but distaste for the girl. She was from an acceptable family, dressed in fine silks, her hair neat and tidy. But her carefully sculpted gentleness couldn’t hold a candle to you—the fire and spirit that had shaped you, that fierce resilience he had admired. Erina’s pure, sheltered demeanour only highlighted her naivety, and it stung all the more for how easily her kindness lifted Jonathan’s spirits.

But Dio supposed he could remedy that. She was honourable and unguarded, an open book, and he knew it would be no challenge to drive her away from Jojo’s side. A single, stolen kiss would serve his purpose—a simple, calculated move, nothing more than a checkmate in a game he intended to win.

Yet the moment his lips forced against her soft ones, a rush of images seared through his mind: he could almost see you in her place, your eyes blazing with a mix of hatred and panic as you wiped your mouth furiously, disgusted by him. The thought sent a wave of anger through him, surprising him with its intensity.

Would you look at him with those same accusing eyes if you saw him now?

Though Jonathan’s burst of righteous fury had been an unexpected and humiliating blow, it ultimately sharpened Dio’s focus, allowing him to reconfigure his plans with greater subtlety. Jonathan was clearly stronger and more resolute than he’d first appeared, a fact that required more finesse from Dio’s scheming hand.

Suspicion lingered in Jonathan’s eyes, but over time, a tentative illusion of trust began to form between them. Jonathan, it seemed, had finally stepped onto the chessboard, stepping up to the rivalry Dio had initiated. And as the years passed, they grew into civil young men, appearing as brothers bound by fate and upbringing.

At least, that’s how it seemed to an outside observer. Dio had no qualms about slipping into the role of the perfect brother and dutiful son. It was almost effortless—another mask, another performance.

At seventeen, Dio returned to the bustling streets of London. Four years had passed since he’d left, yet everything still felt so familiar. Lord Joestar had errands in the city and had encouraged his “boys” to join him. Jonathan had accepted readily, and despite his own hesitation to revisit his roots, Dio had followed suit.

The streets they now strolled through were cleaner and finer than the ones he had known in his youth. After all, it wouldn’t do for two young noblemen to be caught lingering in the capital’s filthy slums. Dio walked leisurely behind Jonathan, his crimson gaze sweeping lazily over the surroundings. It felt strangely surreal to parade through the city clad in clothes tailored from the finest fabrics, his pockets now heavy with coin. He noted the stares of awe and curiosity from the common passersby, who easily recognized the wealth radiating from both their manner and attire.

Suddenly, Jonathan came to a halt. Dio frowned, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue as he followed his gaze. They stood before a modest bakery, unremarkable at first glance, yet the sweet aroma drifting through the air was undeniably enticing. But it wasn’t the pastries in the window that caught Dio’s attention—it was the young woman carefully arranging them.

You.

Your hair was no longer a tangled and dirty mess, now neatly tucked beneath the kerchief covering it. A dark brown woollen dress draped modestly over your figure, simple but clean. An apron shielded your clothing from flour as you gently arranged a new selection in the display. You looked healthier, no longer bearing the ashen, malnourished pallor of your past. Despite your plain attire, there was a glow about you.

Dio’s heart stalled, skipping a beat in surprise at the sight.

“How about we grab a couple pastries, Dio?” Jonathan asked, breaking the blonde out of his momentary trance. “It smells wonderful! I’m certain father would appreciate some too.”

Dio was ready to protest, but before he could even mutter out a single word, Jonathan was already heading towards the building. Ice flooded his veins as he followed suit cautiously.

Would you recognize him?

The bell above the door chimed, alerting you of new customers. Quickly, you brushed the flour from your hands onto your apron and hurried to the counter, a warm smile on your lips. You were momentarily taken aback by the tall young man before you, his frame towering over you. Despite his imposing size, his expression was gentle.

Your gaze swept over him, noting the fine quality of his attire. He was clearly wealthier than most of your usual customers. You offered him your brightest smile.

"Welcome, sir! How can I be of assistance?"

At the sound of the bell once more, your eyes shifted — and your breath caught. Another young man had entered, dressed just as finely, shorter than his companion by just a touch. His golden hair shimmered in the light, and his piercing crimson gaze held you, pinned in place.

A jolt shot through you at the uncanny sight before you. The young man differed so much from the feisty boy you had grown up with. Gone were the baggy rags, the days of swiping bread from bakers, or brawling with the other boys in the neighbourhood. Now, he looked polished, finely dressed, carrying himself with the poise of someone born to this life. Only his captivating eyes and those unmistakable birthmarks hinted at his past.

Your breath caught, your smile faltering for a moment before you tore your gaze from him, returning your attention to the man before you. The man gave you a warm smile, his gaze flickering over your selection with curiosity.

"I think I’d like to try an Eccles cake… perhaps a scone?" he glanced at you sheepishly. "What would you recommend?"

Your eyes flicked briefly to the blonde approaching the two of you. “I just baked a fresh batch of gingerbread, if you’re interested. Would you like to try one? I set a couple aside just for that.” You offered him your sweetest service smile. His eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes! That would be wonderful, miss!”

You stifled a laugh and reached for the basket you’d stowed away behind the counter, its bite-sized treats nestled neatly inside. You held it out, your smile growing ever so slightly as the young man eagerly took one and bit into it.

“This is delicious, miss!” he said, turning to his companion with enthusiasm. “Come and try these, Dio!”

After a moment’s hesitation, Dio stepped closer. You could barely conceal your awe at what a refined man he had grown into.

Would he even recognize you now?

You hadn’t spoken in years, so you could hardly hold it against him. He had moved up in the world, and his days of associating with a lowly girl like you were far behind him. Still, though you hated to admit it, you had sometimes wished he’d at least tried to contact you in some form.

Reaching his hand into the basket, your eyes met. His cold expression of indifference shifted ever so slightly, hesitance in his lingering gaze. You could tell from the subtle twitch of his brow and flicker of his eyes: he did recognize you.

Dio bit into the gingerbread, his gaze never leaving you. There was something different about him since your shared childhood—something complex, almost sinister, simmered beneath the surface.

All he offered in reaction to the treat was a noncommittal hum. If this indifference was uncharacteristic of him, his companion didn’t seem to notice. Despite Dio’s magnetic pull, you forced yourself to focus on the other young man before you. He was much kinder than you’d expected of nobility, open and friendly in a way that surprised you. If your intuition was correct, this had to be none other than Lord Joestar’s heir.

“I almost forgot!” Jonathan exclaimed, turning to Dio after paying for his selection. “I need to send this letter for Father! Would you like to accompany me?”

Dio cast you a veiled glance.

“No. I’ll… stay here a moment longer. I think I’ll get a couple of treats for myself.” His voice was steady, but beneath the smooth indifference, conflicting emotions flickered in his gaze.

You stood in tense silence as Jonathan dashed out, leaving you alone with Dio. You swallowed thickly, sneaking a glance at him. His expression was unreadable now, a far cry from the boy whose thoughts you once understood with a single look.

“(Name),” his deep, commanding voice jolted you from your thoughts, and you jumped.

“Dio,” you replied evenly, keeping your tone as neutral as you could. Your younger self was screaming to rush forward, to sweep him into a tight embrace, but the older, wiser part of you held that urge firmly in check.

You studied him warily, noticing his gaze sweep over you with a detached, almost clinical interest.

“How did you end up… here?” he asked at last, his brows twitching ever so slightly. To most, the movement would have gone unnoticed, but you caught it, picking up on the faint curiosity behind his guarded demeanour.

“Here?” you replied, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter.

“Well,” he paused, observing you with a touch more interest, “you look… nicer than I recall.”

His words held a cutting edge, and while you might have taken offence were this anyone else, coming from Dio, they stung differently.

“Nicer? As in, not begging and stealing? Wearing clothes that actually fit?” you tried to keep your tone light, but you lacked Dio’s practised skill in hiding emotion. A trace of bitterness crept into your voice despite your efforts.

Dio’s lips curved into a faint smirk that never quite reached his eyes.

“Yes, that’s one way to put it.”

You couldn’t decide what hurt more: his words or the cold indifference behind them. You cast a desperate glance out the window, almost hoping for a customer to save you from the thick tension settling between you. No such luck.

Clearing your throat, you fidgeted with the broom, sweeping at the fine layer of flour on the floor just to occupy yourself. His intense gaze trailed your every movement.

“The baker here, Mr. Haverford, caught me stealing a few years back. I thought he’d turn me in on the spot, but…he offered me a job instead.” Despite yourself, a small, fond smile slipped onto your lips as you recalled that day.

You had been so terrified then, barely fifteen, clutching the stolen pastry in your trembling hands. Mr. Haverford had stood over you, his large hand resting heavily on your shoulder. Yet he hadn’t struck you, hadn’t dragged you to the authorities, hadn’t even raised his voice.

Instead, he’d smiled—a gentle, compassionate smile.

“I’ve lived and worked here since,” you murmured, sneaking a glance at Dio. For just a moment, you thought you caught a flicker of something in his expression: his brows lifting slightly, his lips parting as though to speak. But the moment was fleeting, leaving you wondering if you’d seen it at all.

Taking a hesitant breath, you forced a faint smirk onto your face.

“You look well too, Dio. I trust you’ve been doing all right?” Your voice was soft, but a hint of teasing laced your words. You felt breathless, waiting for his reply.

This time, there was no mistaking it. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“I suppose I have. The Joestars have been…kind to me.”

Despite the seemingly gracious words, a familiar unease stirred within you. It felt as though there was something he wasn’t saying, a part of him hidden beneath the surface. But after four years apart, the connection you’d once shared had faded, leaving fragments of familiarity in its place.

“Who was that young man with you?” you asked, catching your lip between your teeth.

Dio’s hands tightened at your question. He’d noticed the easy way you and Jonathan had conversed, and it unsettled him.

“Jonathan. Lord Joestar’s son. His son by birth, that is.” His voice chilled, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

"Ah." You nodded, finally setting the broom aside as another tense silence settled between you. 

Had you offended him?

Your gaze darted around the room, and you lit up with relief as the bell above the door chimed again. Your expression softened, melting into familiarity as a regular stepped inside.

“Hello, Charles! What’ll it be today?” you asked, flashing him a genuine, easy smile. For a moment, you could almost forget Dio’s stifling presence behind you.

But Dio’s demeanour only grew frostier. The young man who had entered looked about your age, plain in every conceivable way, though not poorly off. And yet, you smiled at him with a fondness Dio remembered all too well, one that had once been his.

"Some apple tart, please! It’s my mother’s favourite," Charles replied cheerily, paying Dio no mind, his gaze fixed solely on you.

A laugh bubbled out of you, light and genuine—a giggle.

“You’re in luck! Mr. Haverford took the day off, so all of today’s treats were baked by yours truly.” You flashed a toothy grin at Charles, whose face lit up with excitement.

Dio’s eye twitched as he watched the fool’s eagerness grow, the blush of his cheeks and ears a tell-tale sign.

“Fantastic news! I can always tell when it’s you behind the baking.” Charles leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t let Mr. Haverford hear, but yours are better!”

You giggled, a warm pink hue spreading across your face as you rolled your eyes. “I’m not giving you a discount for flattery, you know!”

Dio tuned out the rest, his gaze flicking between you and Charles, his hardened expression barely concealing the simmering irritation. Had you truly replaced him with some common, insipid fool?

By the time Charles finally left, Dio had stewed long enough. Thoughts churned and frustrations swelled within him with every shared laugh or casual glance between you and that nobody. Yet he forced himself to keep his composure.

“Who was that?” he asked, cocking a brow at you, his voice smooth but lacking its usual restraint. There was a crack in his perfect mask, just the slightest slip that told you he wasn’t as detached as he appeared.

“Charles is a regular,” you explained, your smile fading slightly as you watched him exit. “He often gets treats for his siblings or mother.”

Dio’s brow twitched, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “He likes you, you know.”

You stammered, wide-eyed, heat rising to your cheeks. That earned a chuckle from Dio, a real, genuine sound you hadn’t heard from him in years.

“That’s—Dio!” You struggled for a response, attempting to glare at him through your embarrassment.

This felt strangely familiar, almost nostalgic.

Dio merely shrugged, his smirk widening. “I can read people like him easily.”

You frowned, unsettled by his choice of words. People like him? You felt the urge to snap at his snobbish tone but managed to bite back the impulse. “Whatever, Dio. Even if he did, it’s hardly any of your business.”

There it was again—something swirling beneath that composed exterior of his.

Before the tension could mount any further, Dio’s tall companion, Jonathan, re-entered, gaze flickering between the two of you. He seemed to sense the charged atmosphere lingering in the room, his expression softening as he turned to Dio.

“Let’s go. Father’s expecting us for dinner.”

Dio narrowed his eyes slightly, but he gave no argument, stepping toward the door. Jonathan cast you a quick, concerned look before the two disappeared through the exit, leaving you with only the quiet echo of their departure.

You assumed that this chance encounter would be nothing more than that. 

But it appeared as though fate held other plans for you.

[ladymarvel27]

Flowers 🥀 Carlos Sainz

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Series Master List

Description: With your situation, is even the dinner date feasible?

Word Count: 1610 (oopsies🫢)

f1 masterlist

Carlos is waiting for his luggage. He is already dressed for the date, his brooch shining bright above the pocket of his blazer. His phone vibrates in his pocket. But he has to ignore it as his luggage arrives and he rushes to get it. He checks his wristwatch. “Half past seven!” He mutters under his breath as he takes his luggage and leaves.

After settling in his car, he takes out his phone from his trousers pocket. He keeps pressing the power button, but it won’t turn on. “C’mon! C’mon!” He muttered to himself as he continued pressing the power button. Finally, the screens lit up:

He cursed under his breath. He had to get you a gift. And a bouquet of your favourite flowers. Also, it was getting late too. So, he chose to ignore it. He revs up his car and drives away.

He fixes his collar, holding a small bag with a bouquet tucked under his arm. He presses the doorbell and takes the bouquet in his hand, waiting for you to open the door.

He is met by silence. No shuffling, no thuds, no footsteps. He presses the doorbell again. Same. “Amor!” He calls. “I am back!” He repeatedly presses the doorbell several times before he stops and huffs in frustration.

He opens the front door with an extra key he had. His eyes dart around, your flats lying around near the entrance, and your sandal is neatly placed on the shoe rack. “Y/N!” He calls, “Where are you?!” He goes upstairs, and keeping the bouquet on a table nearby, places the bag in the refrigerator. He went inside the bedroom. Looking around, he noticed the skirt of your dress on the balcony floor. He rushed there to see you lying on the floor. He turns you around to look at your face. “Y/N?” Your eyes were closed and you looked tired.

“Carlos,” you managed to speak out. “Dios mio!” He muttered under his breath and scooped you in his arms. He helped you lay down on the bed and rushed to bring a glass of water with a bottle filled to its brim. He rubbed your back as you rapidly gulped the entire glass.

“You should rest,” he lays you down, covers you with a thin blanket and turns on the air conditioner, closing all the doors. After some minutes of rest, you sit up.

“Hey,” he spoke up, sitting on the edge of the bed near you, “are you fine?” You take a deep breath, resting your back against the pillow. “Why weren’t you picking up my calls?” You ask.

“Oh, mierda! Sorry,” he says as he places his phone on a charger, “my phone was dead.”

“Carlos!” You shouted at him. “You have no idea how worried I was! I called your parents and they had the freaking same problem!” He gets up and wraps his arms around you. “Calm down!”

“Why the hell should I calm down?! I thought you were messing with me again like Tuesday-” “I am sorry,” he hushed and kissed the top of your head, his grip around you tightening, “it was just- I was careless.” You relaxed.

He sat down in front of you and took your hand in his. “I didn’t have time to charge the phone. I was already late. It was already half past seven when I was settling in the car.” He gets up and rushes outside. Your gaze follows him. He returns a few moments later with a bouquet and a bag. “Also, I had to get you-” he says, handing you the flowers, “and your favourite,” he places the bag on your lap. You opened the bag and your face brightened with a smile, it was your favourite dessert, “my favourite indeed!”

He rushes and grabs a plate and spoons. You placed the dessert on the plate and divided it into two parts, taking the bigger one for yourself. He takes the smaller one.

“By the way,” you spoke as he looked up, “you dressed quite well for tonight. You look handsome.” He smiles and blushes.

“For you mi amor.”

After an hour of taking a lot of fluids and some rest, both of you glanced at the clock.

“It’s way past nine now,” you breathed out.

“We can still make it on time if we leave now,” he spoke, taking your hand in his, “only if you’re feeling well now.”

You huff and rest back on the pillow, breathing out. You removed the thin blanket and went to the bathroom while his gaze followed your movement. You stood in front of the mirror, leaning on the sink. Time was running out, and your makeup was ruined indeed. You hastily opened the drawers and took out makeup wipes. There was a knock on the door. You opened the door. “Need any help?” He asked as he looked down at the wipes in your hand. He immediately placed a stool for you to sit in front of the mirror. He took one, and you wiped off the makeup together rapidly.

“So are you well enough to go?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. He smiles. “Well then, I must do some touch-ups then, we have only ten minutes.” You nod and get back to washing your face and he leaves.

Some minutes later you come out of the bathroom, your face moisturised and a light lipstick on your lips. But the room was empty. The room door was open and he was nowhere in the house. The doorbell rings. You go downstairs and open the door. He was standing there. “Hi,” he spoke and gave you the bouquet. You take them and reply, “Hi,” placing the flowers in a vase. When you turned you were suddenly scooped by him in his arms. He placed you on the couch. “The pink one, right?”

“What?”

“The sandals,” Oh. You nod. He leaves and comes back with the sandals. He helps you put them on.

“Have you taken everything you want to?” He asks and he opens the car door. “Yes,” you say as you settle on the passenger seat.

“So,” you breathe out, “we still have time?”

He blows air and replies, “For the dinner date, yes. But we will miss the dance.”

“So no couple dance?”

“Hmm,” he says, his focus completely on the road in front as he speeds up. You felt sad and sank into the seat. It was one of the highlights of September that you used to enjoy. The nights were perfect for dancing. You waited so long for this date, and both of you dressed up perfectly to dance together.

“We should have left after it.” You closed your eyes but immediately opened them when you felt a hand on yours. He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Hey, it’s okay. Your health matters more than it.”

He opened the car and took your hand, leading you to a private dimly lit dining spot. The server brings the food and you two eat in silence. The two of you have small banters. He places his hand on yours and pulls to place a kiss on your knuckles. “I missed you.” He tells you about yesterday’s events. You pick up the glass of water and take a sip. His gaze follows your movement and he says, “You are feeling well, right?” You gulped the water down your throat and putting the glass down you nodded.

He takes your hand in his as you two get up. Your eyes roam from his hand to his face. He smiled as soon as your eyes met his. “Let’s go,” he says and two of you walk out. Even if the night wasn't going on as you two had planned before, you were happy in this moment, walking out after a good dinner date and holding his hand.

You felt him tug and you stopped before turning, “Not there princess.” You raise your eyebrows.

“This way.”

“Why?”

“Just come.” You sigh and follow him.

 He leads you to the backside of the restaurant near a gazebo.

“Good,” he smiles, “no one is here.”

You smirk, “Why are we here?” A lighting chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling. His hand goes into the inside pocket of his blazer and retrieves his phone. “Don’t worry, It is fully charged.” You chuckle. He taps on the screen. In a few moments, a song starts playing on the speaker, ‘Until I Found Her’. He places it on a small sill nearby.

“Mi Senorita?” He brings his hand forward, “Will you give me the pleasure to dance with you.” Your face brightened up with a smile as you nod. “Sure,” you take his hand, “I’d love to.” You gasp as he pulls you suddenly towards himself and his other hand finds your waist. You place your hand on his shoulder and start moving to the song.

“Ready for the final song?” You press your lips to his and pull away to nod.

He taps on his phone and ‘Havana’ starts playing. He pulled you closer as you rested your head on his shoulder. He loops one arm around you while the other hand intertwines with your other hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me before we would be doing this?” You ask while the two start to walk out of the gazebo. As soon as you step on the edge, flowers fall on you.

“Surprise makes you happier,” he chuckles.

“Oh my, Carlos!” You laugh as you brush them off from yourself.

“Especially when it is least expected," he says, smiling ear to ear.

Seperators credit: @saradika-graphics @saradika

Taglist: @faithshouseofchaos @itsjustvs4 @sunny44 @raynetargaryan2 @chaoswithus

A/n: Sorry for the delays everyone. School and sickness came together.😞 It was my first time writing Carlos fic series, I know this is mini but I enjoyed writing it.

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 13

Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: misogyny. Violence. Villain shit. punishment!  i hate spoiling with warnings, but if violence against women triggers you do NOT read this!!!   chapter map

A ningún hombre consiento Que dicte mi sentencia Sólo Dios puede juzgarme… [I consent to no man dictating my sentence, for only God may judge me] -Rosalía, A ningún hombre

The more time goes on, the more certain you are that there is no way Juan will keep his word. Anything could be happening to Paul. You have plenty of time to think about it, your wrists bound behind your back, and your ankles too, laying on the floor of the fiend’s bedroom. 

It is full dark, by the time Juan joins you, smug as the cat who drank all the cream. Though the hacienda is wired for electricity, he favors lighting the tapers in a silver candelabra on a table, maybe so you cannot so clearly see the side of his face sporting quite the eggplant purple bruise. His lip is split, and you notice he moves stiffly. You take some satisfaction in knowing Paul gave him a good thrashing–for all the good it did the two of you.

“Y/n, y/n, y/n. You brought this upon yourself, you know. Why must you always do things the hard way?” 

You reply with a bad word, which despite your gag he seems to interpret correctly. It just makes him laugh, a terrible sound filled with dark promise. He crosses the room to you slowly, his heels clicking on the wood floors, his dress spurs jangling. It gives you a good look from the vantage point of the rug at his extravagantly tooled boots, their pointed silver tips gleaming threateningly at your eye level.

Your eyes travel higher, up the long expanse of his lean legs, to a leather riding crop resting lightly against his thigh. The sight of it fills you with a cold dread; against your will, a fine trembling begins in your bones. 

He tilts his head, looking upon you like a painting in a museum he appreciates. “So beautiful. My spirited little y/n.” He lifts the hem of your skirt slightly with the tip of the crop. You try to squirm away, but all you can do in this state really is wriggle like a furious little worm. It makes him smile cruelly down at you, the candlelight glinting in his pit-black eyes like the fires of hell. 

“You know…my father used to say no horse is unbreakable. You just must find the right balance, between the carrot and the stick. I tried to offer you the carrot, y/n. You cannot say I didn’t try.” 

Considering how his father died…you’re not sure he gave the best advice on horses–or women.

You answer with yet another expletive, and your captor rolls his eyes at you. Maybe it’s less fun for him when you can’t talk back intelligibly, for he reaches down to loosen the cloth in your mouth. “Everyone is still at the fiesta. There’s no one here to hear you scream,” he informs you. His hands are deceptively gentle, as he touches your bruised cheek. 

“Borrachio hit me.”

“Well, I’m sure you were asking for it.”   

That is the essential distillation of all this. Women do as they’re told–or they get what’s coming to them. Tears sting the corners of your eyes. To think, you were so close to making it to freedom. You should have taken Paul and ran back to San Francisco after your father died–but you never really dreamed Juan would take things this far. 

“You cannot do this, Juan.” 

“I can’t?” his obsidian eyes shine with sharp amusement for you. 

“Even if Paul isn’t my husband–that does not make you my master!” 

He chuckles darkly at this. “So finally, you admit it.” 

“I admit nothing.” 

“Hmm. Still lying to me, I see. I won’t have that, y/n.” 

With the tip of the crop he flips your skirts up to your waist, leaving you bare but for the thin cotton of your panties. “No!” you protest, but of course he ignores you, tracing the leather ever so lightly over the backs of your thighs with a wistful sigh. Your skin quivers at his touch, and you’ve never felt so helpless as in that moment. 

With the rough nap of the carpet pressing into your cheek you start to cry quietly. You cry for yourself, and you cry for Paul, who survived so much just to be locked up in a cell in a tiny town in Napa county, probably being beaten by Juan’s paid men, because he had the unfortunate luck of meeting you on a bus.

Juan ignores you, staring down at your prone form with a voracious triumph in his gaze. 

“I must admit, it would be a shame to scar up that magnificent culo.” 

In a sudden, violent feat of strength he rips open the back of your dress, leaving your shoulders bare. 

You know what he’s going to do, and you can’t stop yourself from crying harder. 

“Who do you belong to, y/n?” His voice is smooth as silk, the very definition of deceptive temptation. It's not a trap you'll ever fall into again.

You know what the punishment will be, but some damnable thing inside you will not allow you to relent just yet. “Vete al diablo.” Go to hell. 

The first strike across your shoulders is crisp and perfect and stings like fire. 

More tears spill from your eyes, but you grit your teeth, snarling into the floor like a wild woodland animal. 

He soothes you after with a gentle caress of the leather down your spine that makes you quiver. 

“Who?” 

“Not you.” 

Again, he strikes, and it hurts even more the second time. You taste the burn of bile in the back of your throat. You hope this rug was expensive–you’re going to bleed and throw up on it. 

“Who?” 

“Paul Sutton.” 

You speak your truth, because you realize you don’t really expect to make it out of this alive–and his name lives on your lips like your favorite prayer. He fills your heart, your bones, your every cell. You love that man, and even if you never got to tell him…this is the only way left to you, to honor him. 

You lose track of how many times Juan hits you after that, the flayed skin of your back become one fiery expanse of excruciating pain. You do break then, weeping into the rug beneath you, screaming until your throat is raw.   

“Puta estupida. I would have given you everything!” Juan snarls, and you can’t help but think to yourself that you have broken him. His sanity, at least, and you cry out as he hauls you up by your hair, slinging you unceremoniously over the heavy wood table. “I love you, and this is how you repay me?” 

You do not know where you get the wherewithal, to laugh bitterly as he fists your ruffled skirts, hiking them above your waist once more. “This is not love,” you say through the sand in your throat to the hard wood beneath your cheek. “And I will hate you until the day I die.” 

“Hate me, love me.” He wrenches your panties down your hips, leaving you bare to the world, exposed to his harsh hands and whatever else he intends to give you. “Either way, you will be mine.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Exactly. I will lock you up and breed you here until your belly is swollen heavy with my child. See how far you run away then.”

“I would rather die!” you snarl, struggling fruitlessly to get away. 

He just laughs, smacking your ass with his big hand before pinning you into the edge of the table with his powerful thighs. You feel him working himself behind you, the tinkling of silver as he unbuckles his belt, the jerking motions of eagerly undoing buttons.  

It’s as though your focus narrows to a pinpoint, as you look at the papers upon his desk in front of you, a golden pen, and the ornate base of the candelabra. The thought you’ve had so many times throughout your life echoes through your brain: All it takes is one good fire…

With the last of your strength you lash out with your body, your head knocking the candles towards the window–and the fine brocade draperies that hang from the ceiling to the floor. You watch with fascination as the little flames touch the old fabric–and erupt as they climb in a column of fire. 

With his cock in his hand Juan watches this transpire, frozen with horror. “What have you done?”

He rushes to try to beat out the flames, but somehow just makes it worse.

The flames have spread from the drapes to the ancient wood wainscoting, the oil paintings, the wooden furniture, and the beams in the ceiling. The heat is utterly unbearable, and soon you are surrounded by a circle of fire, all that wealth and heritage Juan is so proud of going up in flames. 

“You stupid, stupid whore!” He grabs your hair, smacking your head against the desk, leaving you to senselessly slide to the floor from the table. “You’d rather die? Then have your wish.” 

He dashes for the door, leaving you to burn in this circle of Hell of your own making. 

—-----------

*full credit to @treedaddymcpuffpuff for the angry caterpillar reference! *fire divider by animatedglittergraphics **culo - ass ***puta estupida - stupid whore

[melodymunson]

Eddie Munson x Reader x Corroded Coffin groupie

A little mayhem never hurt anyone

Eddie has a tour with his band Corroded Coffin and you go along as band manager and you are Eddie's long-term girlfriend. You and Eddie end up meeting another girl who was one of his band's biggest fans and you, along with Eddie, show her the best night of her life. Takes place in the late 80s. Reader Eddie and Groupie are all in their young 20s.

18+ only absolutely no exceptions. This is filth.

ao3 version

Sexual content, sexual themes, 3some, handjob, blowjob, pussy eating, p in v sex, fingering, girl on girl, lesbian sex, spit kink, facials.

Corroded Coffin had a small line of gigs lined up and what made it super awesome was that they could finally tour outside of Indiana and the small town of Hawkins. Eddie was thrilled when he found out the news and he, of course, told you right away. Once he knew he would play some shows, he was super excited because the band would open for none other than the thrash metal band known as Carnivore with frontman Peter Steele. It was going to be an amazing summer and Eddie already had the tour bus for his band purchased. You were a temporary fill-in as the bass player for the tour in 1987 when Grant temporarily took a hiatus. The year was now 1988. Eddie had spent the earlier half of the year working at the video rental place with Robin and Steve, and had a good portion of the money saved up combined with contributions from the other band members and savings from their music sales. When the day finally came to start the tour, you packed and loaded your bags on the bus. You and Eddie were wearing matching Hellfire Club tee shirts. He also had on his signature Dio vest and you had on your favorite leather jacket with pins from all of your favorite rock and metal bands. The first night of the tour was in Indianapolis. Of course, you had side-stage access to the tour and you couldn’t wait for it to start. It was going to be your first summer away from home and you couldn’t wait. Little did you know it would end up being the best summer of your life. Once you arrived at the tour's first stop, you went backstage and did your makeup.

By the time that the soundcheck had started, you were watching front-row and seeing your man play a cover of Master of Puppets by Metallica. You were so proud of Eddie and he couldn’t take his eyes off you as he played on the stage. Showtime soon arrived, and you were side-stage as the lights went down and the crowd cheered on Corroded Coffin. Eddie took the stage first and once the rest of the band started playing, he joined in and played an original song. One girl in the crowd caught your eye pretty quickly. She was gorgeous and one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. Her style was like yours and she had long black hair. She had on all black and red leather, sultry dark makeup, spiked jewelry, and the prettiest hazel eyes. It was then you noticed her Corroded Coffin logo tattoo. There were multiple tattoos adorning her body but the band's logo tattoo stood out. She knew every single word to each song and once Corroded Coffin finished playing, you went up to her and asked her name. She told you her name was Brody, and you gave her a backstage VIP all-access pass. The band was celebrating their first show with drinks at the bar and you and Eddie were watching Carnivore. Soon Brody stopped by the bar asking you and Eddie if you wanted some drinks and you gladly accepted her offer ordering beers and some shots of whiskey. You clinked glasses and gave a toast to keeping rock n’ roll alive.

When Carnivore was close to ending their set you whispered to Eddie you were heading back to the tour bus and he promised he would be there shortly. The rest of the band was off partying and you told Brody to stop by the bus in about ten minutes or so. When you were on the bus you changed into something more comfortable- a black lingerie slip. Soon after Eddie came onto the bus. He passionately kissed you as he took off his jacket and pushed you down onto the bed. A knock came mere minutes later and you looked at him with a raise of your brows.

“I bet that’s Brody, huh? What do you say we ask her to stay the night with us?” He asked mischievously.

“Sure. I thought you’d never ask. I guess things would be even more fun with another person."

He slapped your ass as you got up and waited patiently on the bed as you opened the doors to the bus and invited Brody inside.

“That show was amazing. I am really glad we met. Eddie’s band is one of the best I’ve ever seen live. I don’t mean to be a fangirl, but can I get his autograph?”

It was endearing to you how she truly loved Corroded Coffin. Some girls had made it backstage to hook up with you and Eddie, but her passion for his music seemed genuine.

“Of course, but right now, you should just relax and talk to us for a bit. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sounds like a good idea, but I’m fine for right now and I don’t need a drink. I think it's pretty awesome how you were Corroded Coffin's bassist for the band on the tour last year."

"Thanks, that means a lot. Grant is a great guy, but I would be lying if I said it wasn't the time of my life and I wish I could tour with the band more often.”

As you walked to the back of the bus, she followed you and once she saw Eddie's head banging along to Metallica's Master of Puppets on the radio, she got into the music too. He noticed and flashed her a big grin as she sat down next to him on the bed.

You wasted no time getting closer to her and giving her a signed Corroded Coffin poster, touching her hand and fingers as you gave it to her.

“Thanks. This is so great. I was thinking about following more of the tour. I hope you don't think that’s weird. I have so many posters and tee shirts of Corroded Coffin,” she added. She set the signed poster aside on the bedside table.

“That just really shows the band you love them and true dedication. It's great you are going to do that. Also love the Corroded Coffin tattoo” Eddie told her with a wink. It flattered him, to say the very least.

"Thanks its my favorite one."

So far, Brody seemed like the greatest fan ever. She was the perfect supporter- a fan any band would be lucky to have.

“I just want you to be comfortable with us,” you mused.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Brody asked as she looked at you with equal parts amusement and curiosity in her eyes.

“I’m just thinking about how hot it would be if we all kissed,” you suggested with a raise of your brows.

She looked at you, then Eddie, and back towards you again as a slight blush formed on her cheeks. She thought about what you had just propositioned, as so got up to get closer to you. She straddled your lap and leaned forward to crash her lips against yours, answering with actions instead of words. It turned you on so badly and made you want her even more.

She smelled like vanilla and eucalyptus, and you loved how she tasted. You kissed her back even harder and made her grind on your lap. When the kiss broke, you gestured Eddie closer to you both with a crook of your finger. He removed his shirt but put back on the denim jacket with his heavy metal patches, then kissed you with tongue as Brody watched. After possibly the best French kiss you ever had before, she leaned in towards Eddie and kissed him deeply. You moved your hands to her clothed breasts and cupped them as she moaned against his lips. Your fingers moved under her dress, pushing it up and ripping her tights along the way as she revealed to you she had no panties on. Your other hand still kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipples through the thin black material. Turning back towards you, she kissed you again as your fingers found their way inside her tights, ripping them just a little more as you desperately fingered her. As she ground against your fingers moaning desperately, Eddie watched as he kissed and bit your neck. Everything that was happening was making you so wet and you could tell Eddie was rock hard now. Already she was soaking on your fingers as you pushed them even deeper inside of her. She felt so fucking good and amazing as your fingers worked their magic on her clit.

"Eddie, feel just how tight her pussy is," you suggested as you grabbed his hand and replaced your fingers with his.

He moved two long fingers deeply inside of her, strumming her like he would his guitar as they looked into each other's eyes. The grin he had on his face as he fingered her wet pussy was priceless. You had her taste your fingers of her juices which she sucked greedily.

“Fuck, I want you to fuck me. Please. Eat me out while Eddie watches,” she begged and pleaded desperately.

“You want to be my pillow princess, is that it? You want me to eat your desperate pussy because you are so needy and you just have to have my mouth?”

You slapped her ass with your hand as Eddie continued to finger fuck her before stopping and bringing his fingers to your lips, tapping them so you could taste. You did eagerly and swished your tongue over his slick fingers.

“Yes, I want it all. And I want Eddie to enjoy himself, too.”

“Babe, just being here with the two of you makes me happy.”

You smiled at him, then pushed her onto the bed, laying her down and ripping off the rest of her clothes.

"She tastes so fucking good." You eagerly kissed him so he could get a taste too as Brody watched, clearly turned on by it all. He nodded in agreement and got up, stripping off all his clothes as you removed your slip. He leaned in close to you and whispered into your ear.

“Please, her pussy, as I eat you out. I’ve been dying to taste your sweet pussy again,” he told you with a wicked grin on his face.

Once Eddie was naked, he cupped your sex with one hand and your ass with the other and finger fucked you as he squeezed and spanked your ass. Mewls and moans escaped your lips. As he did this, you kissed and licked her inner thighs, wanting to get her nice and wet for you. He removed his fingers from your cunt and then sucked them clean. You were eager to feel his balls slapping against your ass. He took his time though with licking your clit and separating your pussy lips, wanting to give you the utmost pleasure and wanting you nice and wet before he fucked you. Your fingers moved over her wet entrance before you began to suck and tease her clit. Her pussy tasted so good and you loved how sweet it was.

"That feels so nice," she groaned as you pleased her with fingers and tongue as well as slaps against her pussy.

The wet and lewd sounds of you eating her out as he ate you out were such a turn-on, and you were getting wetter with each passing moment and more with each lick against your pussy.

"That's right baby, eat her out like it's your last meal. daddy's going to fuck you so fucking hard," he promised before giving your ass a few good slaps. Eddie stroked his cock and spit on it, then lined himself up at your entrance. It felt so nice to feel his big thick cock making contact with your aching and needy pussy again. It had been too long. He began inching in little by little as you began to slap and spank her pussy and she whined in pleasure and squeezed her breasts.

"I'm so fuckin wet daddy and her pussy tastes so fucking amazing," you moaned as he adjusted himself inside of you with a hand on your ass, his other hand pulling your hair back.

"I love fucking you baby and watching you please her," Eddie grunted.

He moved slowly at first, then picked up his pace as you licked, sucked, and spit on her clit while simultaneously rocking back and forth on his cock. He pounded into you mercilessly, wanting to make you feel amazing, and watched as you pleased her pussy. He felt his cock grow even harder as he fucked you, and a low groan escaped his lips. You messily ate her pussy, loving how she tasted. The sounds she was making and how she clenched the sheets beneath her with her fingers brought a smile to your face and made you want to make her cum even more. Your breasts bounced as Eddie fucked you deep and hard. His cock was already twitching inside of you.

"I love your mouth. Fuck! I love watching Eddie fuck you too," she whimpered loudly as she pleased her breasts pinching them and raising her hips to get even closer to your mouth.

"You taste so good and you are such a good girl for me," you seductively told her.

As you ate her out voraciously, she screamed your name and moaned her sounds echoing off the walls. You were so fucking wet and wanted to feel your fingers inside your pussy. You were so tight and he loved how the walls of your pussy hugged his huge cock. You could no longer resist the temptation to touch yourself, even though he didn't yet allow you to. As you fingered yourself, Eddie quickly noticed, and a scowl formed on his face.

"Don't touch yourself without my permission, doll. I want us to cum together," he forewarned you as he slapped your ass again, wanting to leave an imprint of red marks.

You removed your fingers and looked back at him with a bratty grin on your face, to which he grimaced. He slapped your ass even harder and left it a bit bruised as he fucked you at a fast pace. He wanted to make you cum and cry out his name, and he was eager to fill your pussy up with his cum. As he looked at you pleasing her, he watched the show eagerly and fucked you harder. The way he made you feel was amazing, and you were getting very close to your release.

"Eddie, I'm gonna cum."

"I know, baby girl. I know."

You fingered, sucked, and licked her pussy as you looked up at her with lust in your eyes.

"Fuck, that's so good. I love watching when you eat my pussy. Fuck!" She cried out as the loud sounds of fucking were heard throughout the tour bus.

His cock felt so good as he fucked in and out of you with deep thrusts and you were on the verge of cumming for him. It wouldn't be much longer before she would cum as well, because you knew just how to work her pussy like a pro. Her walls clenched tightly around your fingers as you ate her out, and her cries of pleasure were like music to your ears. It felt so wonderful to be eating her out as he pounded into you and pulled your hair. There truly wasn't a better position to be in.

As his pounding grew in intensity, his slaps on your ass became even rougher. Eddie loved watching you fuck another woman, and you wanted to please him so badly, but most of all it pleased you. The taste of her pussy and the sounds she was making let you know she was having the time of her life.

"I want to see Eddie make you cum," she cried out as she played with her breasts and watched him pound into your pussy as Eddie groaned.

"Eddie, your cock feels s'good," you moaned around her pussy.

"Make her cum, my dirty girl," he demanded you as he gently wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing lightly.

The intensity of your licking and the thrusts of your fingers drove her over the edge as she whined and tugged on strands of your hair. Her eyes rolled back into her head as you pleased her and made her cum. She was so sexy and Eddie's deep and hard thrusts into your pussy and the slaps against your ass made your orgasm quickly approach.

Moments later, you came calling out his name, and he pulled out, feeling about ready to burst. Your mouths watered at the sight of him stroking his big length. Brody crawled over to you, spreading your pussy lips, looking at your wetness mixed with his pre-cum.

"Can I taste?" She inquired curiously.

"Please do."

She got down in front of you, wrapping your legs around her shoulders, and licked your sensitive bud as she swirled her tongue around your pussy, licking all of your wetness and sucking, making you moan so loud for her.

"Fuck, this is the hottest thing I've ever seen," Eddie groans lowly, resisting the urge to touch himself any longer so he wouldn't cum right there on the spot.

As she ate you out and made eye contact with you, you looked from her to Eddie, whimpering and moaning as you were getting overstimulated and nearing another orgasm.

"She's amazing at eating pussy, Eddie. Fucking me so good with her tongue I'm going to cum again," you mewled and pulled back her hair from her face tightly.

"Be a good slut and make her cum," he commanded as he kneaded her ass and slapped it.

Her tongue licked your pussy, then your ass, and she fingered you until you cried out, reaching your peak again. It felt so fucking good and had your legs shaking as she groaned into your pussy, then sucked her fingers clean.

After you rode out your high, you wasted no time sucking his cock into your mouth and beckoning her over. She crawled on her hands and knees over to you and Eddie and sucked on his balls as you deep-throated him.

"Yeah, you little sluts want my cum on your faces, huh?" He tsked. "Such dirty little girls."

Not being able to last much longer, he pulled out of your mouth and gave his cock a few final thrusts.

You both opened your mouths wide for him as he began to cum first on your tongue and face and then on hers, panting as his release left his body.

"So fucking hot. Taking my load so well. Fuck," he grunted as he stood back and watched you lick your fingers clean and spit some of his cum into her mouth. She spits back into your mouth and kisses you with her tongue as you share your reward. You swallowed and so did Brody. You both opened your mouths, showing him that his cum was all gone now. Watching with satisfaction, Eddie wiped the sweat from his brow. He tasted so fucking good and that night was one you wouldn't soon forget.

Taking groupies back to your tour bus, women and men alike was nothing new, but this girl was special. You gave her a backstage pass, one she could use for the rest of the tour and any dates she wished to attend. And she went to more of Eddie's shows, which led to more mind-blowing sex. Eddie trusted you and you trusted Eddie, and nothing came between the two of you. When you were on the road and had your fun- that was for the tours and after your rock shows as a reward. What happens on the road stays on the road, but that tour was one of the most memorable. What they said about bassists and guitarists having the best fingers was true. Now Brody knew it, too.

soundtrack

mayhem and Rock show by Halestorm animal by WASP nib by black sabbath rock of Ages by Def Leppard turn you by In This Moment I like it rough by Lady Gaga I love rock n' roll by Joan Jett girls girls girls by Motley Crue nothing but a good time by poison my lady dominate by William Control

tag list @chrrymunson @bimbobaggins69 @somethingvicked @babygorewhore @inourtownofhawkins @corneliuswatkins @keeryatmosphere @undead-supernova @ali-r3n @harringtonfan4 @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @bunnsandroses @steveslittlesunflower @reidsbtch @emsgoodthinkin @jadeylovesmarvelxo @zestychili @s6raphic @probablyin-bed @corrodedcorpses @dollalicia @xxbimbobunnyxx @ofhawkinsandskippy @keeksandgigz @bettyfrommars @hcwthewestwaswcn @emmyshortcake @voyeurmunson

[valentine-cafe]

I see many posts of dear Alessio (781) comforting reader and having their back, so hoe about we have his back for a change?🥺him getting back from a tiring day of work and reader is there for him for anything he wishes to talk about, giving him a warm safe hug and massaging his head soothingly, or washing his hair, or just giving soothing whispers and sweet words, giving him gifts, getting him through the day?❤️‍🩹🥹

˖⁺. ﹙ antihero mercenary bf x gn reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . thank you cariño, for always takin' care of me !! 🍒 :  antihero ˖ mercenary ˖ enigma character character﹙ verse 781 alessio. ﹚

after all of the care and love your boyfriend has shown you, you turn it all back onto him. and shower him with love <3

“Dios cariño. You're too good to me.”

He shrugs off his black leather jacket while your hands eagerly take his warm face into your hold. Your lips fall upon his much like the light pattern of rain upon his apartment windows. You drown out his hushed, tired groans better than any wind for sure.

“Look so tired baby. . .” Your croon could send him straight to bed. A tender voice for gentle hands that trace down his neck and ease along his traps. Then his shoulders. With skillful fingers working through knots in ways he is certain will be his downfall.

“Mm, ‘m fine,”

His weight falls upon you. Your neck becomes home for his face and he welcomes it with his own kisses followed by nuzzles. His arms find their rightful place around you with soft squeezes as apology for letting the cold touch your delicate skin.

You trace your hands back to his face and swirl your thumbs along his cheekbones. He counters with a turn of his head and a kiss to your palm.

“Te amo. . .”

“Mhhm lover boy. Don't think you're getting out of this one.”

Your grin meets his tired smile. The exasperated sigh bleeds into the air as you use your strength to pull him along his apartment. Framed posters and ebony furniture become a blur, with the eye of the storm being you. His dearest love who so earnestly presses him to his sheets.

Another kiss to his lips for good measure. Then two to his cheeks. One to his nose so that it wrinkles in the way that makes you giggle.

His hands lather your hips and make their way up your sides. You derail their course with a tut and a light shove to his shoulder so that he hits the mattress.

“Cuorreeeeee,” ( sweetheart ) his groan is nothing short of exhausted and childish. You simply have to crawl over him and pepper another round of fluttery kisses all over his face.

“Don't whine. I'm taking care of you tonight.”

The fluffy blanket will be his only comfort for now. You zip out of the room and he watches with dazed eyes. You just so manage to hear him calling you something under his breath - “bumblebee”, you only chuckle in response.

Taquitos is on the menu. His favourite you have mastered. The way his emerald eyes brighten to compete with the stars reminds you of such as you shuffle the plate closer.

“What'd I do to deserve this huh? What��cha want?” His joke only meets your affectionate smile while you watch him munching away like a kid in a candy store.

“To love you.”

He nearly chokes. You stiffle a giggle.

Alessio is quick to wash down the last half of his taquito with the cup of water you brought along with. In favour of swarming you with kisses once more.

“A poet now huh?”

“You turn me into one.”

Your arms brace his shoulders. The look in your eyes compels him to keep eating. Lest he face the wrath of you feeding him. Oh nooo, woe is he.

A poet indeed is what you are. Littering his face and neck with your endless affection. Pouring honey into his ears with words he has always dreamed of. What more can you do by lay all of your love on him?

He deserves it after all. The way his eyes droop and his face finds comfort in your chest. You'll hold him through the night and spoil him as best you can.