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bambiihee · 1 month ago

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OFF TO THE RACES ˒˒ 박종성

♫ off to the races 一 lana del rey

you thought a punishment was what you wanted to cure how badly you missed your sugar daddy, but you slowly realize that your need for him ran much deeper than just that.

⧼ 📜 ⧽ 一 pairing。 ⸝⸝ park jongseong x fem!reader 𓄵 feat。 sim jaeyun (unamed)

genre。�� smut, pwp, sugar daddy!jay, sugar baby!reader, est. relationship, angst themes

warnings。⸝⸝ daddy kink, rough sex to soft sex, bdsm, hard to soft dom!jay, praise kink, degredation kink (slut, whore), unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, talks of marriage, jay is a bit of an asshole, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, whipped jay and whipped reader word count。3. 6 k ╱ ⧼ 🗝️ ⧽ 一 to library。

author's note。⸝⸝ this ended up being a wee bit longer than i intended... as usual... oops...

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ FEEDBACK 𓇼 REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

You know it makes you sound bratty and ungrateful, but sometimes you really hated Jay’s job. Sure, as the current CEO of his father’s old company he made enough money for you to stay at home without a care in the world, pampered and spoiled beyond your wildest dreams… but the sacrifices he made to keep you happy meant long hours at the office and constant business trips that could last anywhere from days to a month at a time. His grand, lofty penthouse just felt sterile and hollow without him inside of it, his california king bed like a wide, lonely island without him in it waking up next to you. Were all of these designer clothes and luxury brands even worth it, if he wasn’t there to enjoy them with you? Your friends had invited you to a club on one of the nights he had been out of town last, and while you felt dozens of eyes on you all night in your tight, expensive dress, the only eyes you cared to ever gaze upon you were the ones of your boyfriend’s.

It was a dress he had picked out himself. In some odd way, it made you feel held by him. As you brushed off numerous advances from faceless, unimportant men and the irritated jeers of your friends as you turned down following them to the dancefloor, your thoughts were consumed only of him, how much you missed him, how badly you wished to feel his hot, heavy stare upon your back.

Now Jay was back again, running off the plane and into your arms, if only to give you a kiss and to shove an invitation into your hands– another wretched business party for you to attend as his plus one, spending the entire evening bored out of your mind and clinging to Jay’s arm.

You’ve never told him that you hated the parties, partly because you feared bruising his ego, and partly because they were manageable enough with you able to drown your sorrows in free cocktails. You agreed with a tight-lipped smile and without much fight, though now as you stared down in the drink in your hand, you wish you had the courage to speak your mind. There was hardly any time for the two of you to enjoy being in each other's presence again before you had to get ready and go meet his driver, hardly got more than a hug and a few words before Jay, Your Boyfriend became Jay, The Businessman.

Two years ago, when your relationship was nothing more than an arrangement to get you through college, you couldn’t seem to ever get a moment away from him. Constantly blowing up your phone asking where you are or who you were with, showing up uninvited to your work or your school with lavish gifts that drew more attention than you ever wanted. Back then, you had half the mind to think you hated him. You only stayed with him because of his money.

That was the lie you told yourself, at least. That it was the money that kept you crawling back for more, not his chiseled, handsome face and how sexy he looks when he’s pissed off. It wasn’t because under that cold, aloof exterior, Jay was a hopeless romantic with a deep desire to love and to be loved. He showed it in everything he did, such a gentleman with you even though he didn’t talk like one.

Now you’re in too deep to lie anymore. You miss him breathing down your neck, his vigilant, protective eye over you, something you used to complain about when you were still simply business partners. It wasn’t long after you officially became his girlfriend did his father officially retire from his company and had Jay take over as the CEO. It was something that Jay had been anticipating for his entire life, but he still ended up far in over his head; his workload increased tenfold seemingly overnight, all of these meetings and deals keeping him in the office until late into the night. He makes more money than he ever had before, and he tries to make up for his absence with pricier and pricier gifts, but no amount of designer could ever make up for the way you long for his touch, the memory of his kisses haunting you in your dreams. You’d do anything for his undivided attention again.

The business party was a lot like your night out with your friends. You still felt just as lonely even with Jay there. He was constantly tugged aside by business partner after business partner, colleague after colleague, leaving you to wait alone at the bar.

There was one particular colleague of Jay’s that he disliked more than the others. He’d never really explained to you why, though you suppose it may have something to do with the way he slid into the barstool next to you like he owned the place, the way he leaned in to introduce himself like you didn’t already know the names of all your boyfriend’s enemies. If Jake recognizes who you are, he doesn’t show it, boyish features staying bright and his smile toothy as he offers to buy you a drink.

Warning sirens blared in your head, but you looked danger head-on with a flirty grin of your own; a plan was beginning to form in your head, one that guaranteed Jay’s attention whenever he wanted to give it or not. At least, it felt like a good plan at the time. With a rather large emphasis on felt, because with as many drinks as you had knocked back within those last few hours you weren’t doing much critical thinking at all.

You agreed with a sickenly sweet smile, and with another fruity cocktail on your painted lips it became easy to giggle at his unfunny jokes. Part of you knew this was a bad idea, screaming at you in the back of your mind, but you were far too gone to listen or care. The man stuttered and jumbled up his words when you placed a hand on his shoulder, but his grin grew from ear to ear, and he placed his own hand on your upper thigh. He was far too close to the hem of your dress for your liking, but it was exactly what you wanted to happen. Jay was somewhere in the vicinity, you were sure of it, never one to leave you unsupervised no matter where you went– he always insisted it was protectiveness, but you knew it was far more possessive than that. To see your hands on another man was one thing, but seeing a man touch you so intimately like this… sometimes a man standing a little too close was enough for him to see red. And that was when he was sober; you’ve caught him down a couple of drinks himself in the brief times you’d caught sight of him.

If you played your cards right, Jay would waltz back over and take you back home in no time at all. Then you could finally have him all to yourself, tangled in his thousand-thread count egyptian sheets and enjoying the feeling of his strong, firm body pressed against you.

And you knew him all too well, because within seconds of you placing your hand on his coworker you felt his presence materialize behind you, heavy and dark, his large hand cupping the small of your back and tracing the hem of your backless dress. You had him right where you wanted him, wrapped around your finger like always… but then you turned and took in his face, blank and unreadable except for his eyes.

He wasn’t looking at you at all. Sharp as a knife, his stare was focused squarely on his colleague beside you, a certain glint in his dark irises that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. Something wild, untamed. Murderous, even, enough to send a cold thrill up your spine even if you knew your boyfriend to be the softest man you’ve ever met underneath his cold exterior.

“Jong, I–” you stammer, panic rising in your throat. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry.

He grabs your wrist with a bruising force, tearing it off of his colleague and tugging you up out of the barstool and to your feet. “Get in the car.”

“Wait–!”

“I said get in the fucking car.”

“Do you just like pissing me off? Is that it?” Jay growls, tugging you straight from the car to the bedroom. “Acting like a whore in front of all of my colleagues. You want to get into their wallets too, huh? Or are you embarrassing me in public just over some dick?”

“No, Daddy, I-I’m sorry, I–!”

“If dick’s what you want, I��ll let you fucking have it.” he snarls, cutting you off. With a rough shove you’re practically thrown onto the mattress, landing on your back hard enough to knock the wind out of you. “That’s what you wanted, right, princess? You were letting that man touch all over you to get a rise out of me. I bought you a new dress, new shoes, and this is how you act? Spoiled brat. You want your daddy to punish you? I’ll give you what you want, you little whore. Gonna put you back in your place.”

He’s on top of you before you can blink, his rough and calloused hands tearing your sparkly new dress to shreds with ease. The paper thin fabric rips from your body loudly, cast aside onto the floor in an expensive, shimmery puddle. You open your mouth to protest, but it dies on your tongue; you fear what would happen if you provoke him any further, and besides, there wasn’t any point in complaining. He’ll just buy you another one. You went braless because of its scooping back, leaving you only in a tiny pair of black panties. He pauses for a moment to admire the dainty, intricate lacing before tearing them apart too. “I should have bent you over and fucked you right there at the bar.” he growls in your ear, “Shown him and everyone else just who you belong to, who fucking owns you. This pussy? It’s mine.”

You’re left completely bare beneath him while he’s only taken off his shoes and blazer, crisp white button up shirt and dark suit pants crumpled and disheveled from your greedy hands. One of his large hands comes down to cup your aching mound, long thick fingers sliding up between your folds to smear your dripping arousal around. “Fuck, you’re so wet and I haven’t even touched you.” Jay marvels with a groan. The rough pad of his middle finger wets your budding clit, encouraging it to peek out more from its little hood. “Who owns this pretty pussy, baby, hm? Tell me.”

It takes you too long to speak, your thoughts fractured and scattered about. Jay warns you in the form of a harsh slap to your pussy. “Tell me.” he repeats venomously.

“Y-You! You do, Daddy! I’m sorry! Daddy owns this pussy, it’s Daddy’s, no one else's–”

Your near-incoherent babbling seems to be enough for now, your daddy rewarding you with a pleased hum and a roll of his fingers against your clit before his hands retract again to grab ahold of his belt. The clink of the buckle is enough to get squirming, thighs clenching together in an effort to soothe the ache between your legs as Jay makes quick work of undoing his pants. He doesn’t bother to undress himself any further, simply pulls his slacks down just enough to pull out his cock, thick and heavy spilling out from his unzipped fly.

“Keep those legs open.” He orders, prying your legs apart with a surprising amount of force, his deep raspy voice dripping with dominance. “Gotta remind you that this cunt’s not yours to whore around with, since you can’t seem to fucking remember.”

You have no choice but to obey, his grip like velvet-cased steel, forcing you open and laid out underneath him. His dark eyes rake over your most intimate parts, hungry gaze growing heavy as it travels from your perky breasts, bouncing from your heaving chest, down to your glistening cunt. The puffy folds of your pussy lips quiver and weep between your parted thighs, preening for attention. To get Jay angry was exactly what you wanted, yet it somehow felt wrong, his attention still hollow and detached. Regret and guilt eats away at your lust, makes you squirm beneath Jay’s touch as he drags his palms over the expanse of your thighs. What you really wanted was his love; the softer, gentler kind that held you close and whispered sweet nothings into your hair. You want his praise, want to be drowned in his adoration as he worships your body.

Originally, what you thought you had wanted was to get fucked, hard. But you realize now that it was a lot deeper than that.

Jay picks up the shift in your mood immediately, his face softening in concern. He’s always been so in tune with your emotions, able to pick up the smallest shifts in your body language, the microscopic changes in your expression. It’s as if your thoughts were written out on your skin for him to read, something he’s read before; the notes of his favorite song, familiar enough that he can thoughtlessly pluck out on one of his many guitars. “What’s the matter, baby? He asks you in a soft voice, slowly retracting his fingers, “You don’t want your punishment?”

You can’t stop yourself from pouting childishly, the tears that had been gathering on your lashes threatening to spill over when you shake your head. “I’m sorry Daddy.” you mumble pitifully, fighting a losing battle trying not to cry.

Jay reaches up to cup your flushed cheeks in his palms, soothing your soft hiccups and cries with a gentle coo. “Shhh, don’t be sorry, sugar, what happened? Talk to me.”

“I miss you.” you admit, the guilt and embarrassment eating you alive; you turn your face to hide in his hand, your cheeks wetter than you would like to admit. “I feel like I never even get to see you anymore! I know… I know you work hard, and I’m sorry, but I– I just want it to be like how it was before, when you had time for me. It’s not fair! Finally I’m really your girlfriend, not just your– your whore, and suddenly you’re too busy to spend any time with me! I just…. I just want your attention, Jay.”

Jay blinks down at you once, then twice. And then the realization comes down on him like a crashing wave, those dark eyes of his widening as they scan over your sad little face. “Oh, sweet thing,” he breathes, any lingering dregs of his domineering persona falling away completely, leaving him exposed and unguarded. He scoops you up into his arms and presses sweet gentle kisses to your forehead and temple. “I’m so sorry, sugar, I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?”

You burrow your face into his broad, muscled chest and sniffle.

“My poor baby… she needs her daddy so badly, doesn’t she? Shhh, princess, Daddy’s got you. Daddy will take care of you…”

And one thing Jay will never do to you is lie. When he lies you back town to take you again it’s slower and gentler than he had ever done so before. He slowly and thoroughly stretches you open on his fingers even though you’ve been dripping for hours, doesn’t stop until the tears in your eyes were from pleasure instead of pain. It’s only after he makes you cum does he finally push himself inside of you, perfect and familiar like coming home. His cock is so thick that it still burns regardless of how much he’s prepped you, but the sting only adds to your euphoria.

Jay slides inside in one smooth thrust, fully sheathing himself inside of you until his heavy balls press up against your cunt. He’s so deep you swear you can feel him up in your throat, body absolutely alight with the pleasure of being so fucking full. Your gummy wet walls grip his veiny shaft greedily, squeezing him tight enough to make him throw his head back and grunt.

“Tight pussy,” he grits out between clenched teeth. His strained voice comes out in a rushed exhale. “Ffffuck, let me in. You need to open up for me, baby.”

He spit the words so filthily, making your tummy turn with desire. His thick fat cock spreads your little pussy lips apart and stretches you open so blissfully, your cunt gushes around his shaft and greedily sucks him in even deeper. Jay curses and grinds his cockhead hard against the opening of your cervix, a painful kiss that makes you gasp out. He slides himself out before you can recover, leaving only his flared cockhead inside to keep your hole gaping.

“Are you ready, sweet thing?” he coos, gentle voice betrayed by the animalistic look in his eyes.

He steadies himself with his hand splayed out across your lower stomach, pressing down with the heel of his palm. You nod excitedly.

The first rough, strong thrust into your pussy knocks the breath out of you. The ones right after it keep you from gaining it back, all of the air leaving you in the moans that Jay’s powerful rhythm tears from your throat. Soon the room is full of the sound of skin on skin, that filthy, pornographic plap, plap, plap of his hips slamming against your ass making your ears burn. Your pussy squelches loudly every time it welcomes his cock inside, dribbling cum and arousal down onto the bed sheets.

You reach your second climax in what seems like no time at all, but Jay shows no sign of stopping– in fact, he seems to only pound into you harder and faster, focused expression on his flushed sweaty face like he was hunting something.

“D-daddy, daddy, you gotta slow down!” you manage to stutter out between whimpers and whines, but Jay only answers you with his thumb and finger pinching your clit, the sudden shock of white-hot pleasure nearly making you scream.

“Fuck, I can’t, love this pussy too much,” he groans against your neck, hot lips and tongue gliding against your needy skin. “Love the way you feel when you cum around me, babydoll, you clench down so fucking hard– need you to do it again, make you feel so good over and over. Give Daddy another one.”

So you do, give him two more til you’re certain your cervix is bruised, til there’s a filthy, frothy white ring around the base of his cock like a wedding band. But that’s still not enough, not even after Jay’s cum himself, shot his hot sticky load deep inside of you and filled your empty little womb up to the point you’re dribbling it down the backs of your legs. The pleasure is so intense it’s almost painful, your poor abused cunt overstimulated beyond belief– the next time you feel another orgasm creeping up on you, it feels so much more intense than any other one you’ve ever had before, hot lava building pressure in your pelvis and only intensified by Jay’s hand pressed down hard on your tummy. You barely have time to warn him before the volcano erupts and you’re squirting all over his chest and abdomen, drenching his abs and his balls in your essence.

Jay’s hips stutter wildly, his rhythm quickly falling apart into sloppy, staccato bucks into your tight heat. “That’s so fucking hot,” he whimpers like it pains him, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Marry me please.”

“Wh-what?”

“I’m gonna marry you. I’m gonna make you my wife, all mine, gonna put that baby in your belly that you’ve been wantin’ so bad. What do you think, princess? My little housewife carrying my babies…”

You’re too fucked out to properly digest any of what he’s saying, sobbing and hiccupping with the pleasure that wracked your body. “Yes, yes!” you shriek– you’d agree to anything Jay said as long as you get to feel him flood you with his seed again. “Anything you want, Daddy, please!”

Jay just can’t help but spoil your pussy as much as he spoils the rest of you, and when you cum for a fourth and final time he drives himself as deep inside of you as he can and releases another load of hot thick cum into your greedy hole. You rake your perfectly manicured nails down his broad, muscled back as your pussy milks him of every last drop, your walls fluttering from the pained hiss he lets out when they break the skin. You know you’ll catch him admiring the marks you’d left behind in the mirror tomorrow morning, lopsided grin on his face from all the angry red marks.

“I meant it,” he mumbles into your hair when you both come down from your highs, laid tangled together on expensive sheets ruined and cum stained. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

His cock is still buried deep inside of you, thick globs of cum seeping out from where you’re connected; you look up at him with eyes full of satisfaction and love, your makeup ruined and running down your face in dark sparkly streaks. There are smeared lipstick stains across Jay’s own face and down his neck and chest.

“Okay.” you reply, stifling a giggle and cuddling deeper into his sticky chest. “It better be a good ring.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen imagines #jay x reader #jay smut #jay hard thoughts #jay hard hours #park jongseong #park jongseong x reader #enhypen jay

1K notes · View notes

cherspastries · 2 months ago

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PRETTY THINGS,

WITTY WORDS!

GET IN LINE!

Lando Norris x Reader

SUMMARY 𐙚 Lando’s been waiting for the right moment to make a move. When he finds out you’ve broken up with your toxic boyfriend, he seizes the perfect opportunity!

WARNINGS 𐙚 Mentions of a toxic relationship

A/N 𐙚 First SMAU ever… I had to break out my graphic design skills for this one 🫣

DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN

lando

🎵 MF DOOM • Coffin Nails

liked by abercrombie, mclaren, lnfour, and 523K others

lando Don’t miss out on this

view all comments

user1 He’s sooo fine

user2 who’s missing out on what?! 😩

abercrombie on the merch! Buy it now!! 😤

user3 We all dread the day someone claims a piece of him

user4 It’s gonna be me ♪

→ user5 no way

yourusername Nobody missing out on shit 💀

lando I’d roast you but my mom said not to burn trash

→ yourusername CORNBALL!

ー→ user6 can you guys stop flirting

ーー→ yourusername Alright fun’s ruined

user6 never bought a shirt so fast

lnfour 🔥 make sure to wear your sweatshirt when watching the race 👀

user7 A hit as always

𐙚

yourusername

🎵 Doja Cat • Ain’t Shit

liked by lando, friend1, friend2, mclaren, and 12.3K others

yourusername This is your sign to break up with your toxic boyfriend #freedom

view all comments

user1 YESS

user2 ATE

lando You have access to McLaren passes and yet you picked FERRARI? 😤

yourusername I look better in red

→ lando I thought we were friends

user3 Men ain’t shit

user4 GOODBYE BUM

user5 Thank God

scuderiaferrari Our new biggest fan

yourusername OFC 💋

charles_leclerc Lovely meeting you

yourusername omfg.

→ user6 GIRL you won

→ lando 🧐

𐙚

lando

🎵 Frank Ocean • Pink + White

liked by yourusername, lnfour, mclaren, and 521K others

lando Merch drop 🔥

view all comments

user1 HE LOOKS… 😳

yourusername ok mog

lando 🤫🧏‍♂️

lnfour 🔥🔥🔥🔥

user2 is it hot in here? 🥵

yourusername No it’s just me

→ user3 Why are you always in his comments? It’s giving obsessed…

ー→ yourusername God forbid a girl have friends

user4 Y/N in their breakup era… Lando in his single era…

user5 Let’s not

→ user6 bffr they have so much chemistry, you’re just jealous

𐙚

Regardless of his forewarning, Lando’s sudden arrival at your house had taken you by surprise. He arrived with such haste, you had to giggle at the idea of the racer speeding across the city to get to you. The knock came roughly twenty minutes after your exchanged messages, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Lando was impatiently standing on the other side of that door.

You steadied your nerves before pulling the gold-plated handle down to open the grand wooden door. Lando’s eyes lit up upon the sight of you, and he quickly pulled you into his grasp. His muscular arms encircled your waist, tugging you taut to his chest as he spun you around in an elegant circle. With a rather loud smacking sound, he stole a kiss away from you.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” He spoke with a cheesy, boyish grin. His curls framed his face, and his smile lit up his features perfectly. He was the definition of handsome. You giggled as you combed through his soft locks.

“Now you’ll never have to wait again.” You sealed your promise with yet another peck.

𐙚

lando

🎵 Billie Eilish • BIRDS OF A FEATHER

liked by yourusername, friend1, lnfour, and 212K others

lando This is your sign to date your best friend

tagged yourusername

view all comments

user1 I KNEW IT

user2 FINALLY

lnfour Favorite girl🔥

yourusername omg 😆🫣

lando Hey… Step back now

user3 AHHH CUTIES

oscarpiastri Congrats mate

friend1 Just know I was there first

lando Blah blah blah

→ friend1 🤨😤😠😡🤬

mclaren Time to ditch the Ferrari!

scuderiaferrari Hey wait a minute

yourusername I looove you 🤩

lando Thank God 🧡 Idk how I pulled you

→ yourusername By being a charming loser

961 notes · View notes

charles-leclerizz · 28 days ago

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OCEAN EYES - CL 16

on the runway : Charles Leclerc x fem!vausseur!reader

inspiration ( warnings ) : swearing, drinking, smut [p in v, fem!oral!receiving, shower sex, beach sex, semi-private sex etc etc.]

VIP's in the front row ( taglist ) : MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon]

Before the show begins ( synopsis ) : You are Ferrari team principals grand-daughter and over this time, you've become close with the teams golden boy, Charles Leclerc. If your grand-father could replace you with anyone, it would probably be this guy. So, how mad do you think he would be if you, fucked him?

Designer notes : so, inspiration strikes in the weirdest ways icl. it's not too filthy, cause theres shower sex. ha ha, you see what I did there? anyway enjoy <3

You’ve known Charles for years, being the granddaughter of his team principal, it was a bit hard to avoid him. Sure, your Pépé had warned you against interacting too much with his star driver, but when had you ever listened.

That’s how you ended up walking down to the semi-private beach of your grandparent’s family home, tucked away in the exclusive part of Saint-Tropez. There were a few drivers present, already swimming in the shallow, aquamarine waters, recharging before the start of the season. Their girlfriends were also there, lounging on the pure white sand, you walked towards them.

The heat clung to your skin like thick honey, your cover-up doing barely anything to shield you from the warm, sleepy sun. You greeted the girls, giggling at something that one of them said, pointing at the child-like men paddling further away from shore. That’s when you noticed him, Charles was a part of this gaggle, the water lapping at his waist, pulling down his shorts playfully- just enough for you to notice the tan lines between the dimples of his back and his bathing suit.

You tried not to stare, but apparently failed, since he noticed your presence as soon as your manicured feet touched the beach, and pivoted at his waist, green eyes sweeping over your body; settling on your face as he waved.

It took him a total of 10 minutes to break away from the group and wade his way up to shore. To you.

“Nice of you to join us.” He teased, shaking his hair, spraying you with salty droplets.

You held up your hands, protecting your sun-cream infused skin, “I brought snacks. That’s got to count for something.”

He smiled- lazy, dimpled- and sat down next to your perch on a towel, “depends on what you got.”

You pulled out an array of brightly colored packets, “I got salted crisps, your favorite. Be grateful.”

He leaned towards you and kissed your cheek, “merci,” It was just a European thing, you brushed it off, him kissing you was just customary, polite.

His elbow grazed yours as he took the bag from you. He was shirtless, obviously, toned, tan and glistening with remaining sea spray. It made you blush and look down at your ensemble, suddenly feeling like you were over-dressed.

Charles noticed your cover-up, woven together to form intricate shapes over your scandalous bathing suit, “Fred let you out the house in that?” He asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

You shrugged, “He didn’t know, and it’s not that bad” you began to lift the dress-like garment, “see.”

The piece fell limp next to you as you stretched, arms held above your head.

“Oh yeah,” he blinked at your bikini, if it could be called that, “not bad at all” Charles cleared his throat, eyes darting between the straps holding your modesty together and his potato chips.

You laughed, “eyes up here Charlie.”

It probably was one of your more risqué options, but you chose it out of necessity, definitely not because you loved riling up the flustered man next to you.

“Oh my god,” an accented voice exclaimed next to you, “That bikini is amazing.” Kika was propped up on her elbows, sunglasses held on her head with her free hand, “I think I'm gay for you now.” She chuckles as Pierre gapes at her, toweling off his back.

You looked down at the bathing suit, dual toned cups held your breasts in place, semi-coverage at best with matching bottoms that molded against your curves. Shrugging, you accept the compliment, along with the shared bottle of vodka being passed around the group.

The rest of the day unfolded like a dream. Laughing with friends, passing around 1 litre bottles of expensive alcohol, swimming until your skin pruned and your limbs were like warm wine. But the best, most unrealistic parts of the day, were when, just for a moment you and Charles would gravitate towards one another. His fingers brushing your thigh on the jet-ski, legs tangled under the water, your chests pressed together as you ducked beneath the waves.

It was always like this. Teasing. Tantalizing

But today was different. More serious. More real.

Once the sun had set and the lights illuminated the strip of shore you were inhabiting, the others headed up for to the villa, for your mémé’s hand-made dinner and warm showers. Charles lingered, you stayed too. Packing up all the towels, and umbrella’s, disposing of the scandalous bottles that lay empty in a neat line.

“You always stay behind,” You noted, wrapping the cleanest looking towel around your sunburnt shoulders and settling beside him on the sand.

He hummed, leaning his cheek against his shoulder, eyes tiredly fluttering closed.

“It’s like you’re waiting for the sea to tell you something.”

He opened one eye at you, hair damp, smile slow. “Sometimes it does.”

You snorted at him, but your chest warmed with his whisper. Looking out to the waves, lapping at one another before lazily caressing the shore- you barely notice him watching you, instead of the sea ahead, something heavy behind his eyes.

Turning to face him, you pull your knees up and tuck your chin between them, towel slipping from your shoulders, taking one of your bikini straps along with it. Charles’s eyes flickered down, slowly.

“Something on your mind, Leclerc?”

His tongue swept at his bottom lip, slow and deliberate as he met your eyes once more.

“You looked good in that bikini today,” he gulped once, hand twitching at his side, “too good, I tried not to stare, I failed.”

Your heart thumped against your ribcage and shifted closer without even realizing it. “That so?”

He brought a shaky hand up to your fallen strap, toying with the damp material.

“I think I’ve been trying not to touch you all day.” He confessed, still unsure whether he should replace the garment, or tug it off with a simple, weak pull.

“You’re not very good at self-control,” you murmured, voice low and warm, “You know that, right?”

He laughed softly, letting the strap fall from his hold. “Not when it comes to you.” His fingers brushed your bare shoulder, and you shivered from the touch, head lolling to the side so you could follow the path of his fingertips. It was instinctual, like your bodies had already made the decision before your brains caught up.

“You going to do something about it?” you asked, head tilted, lashes low.

His eyes darted to your mouth, then back to your eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance, regret. Something that would give him an excuse not to kiss you.

“I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“That’s sweet,” you cooed, shifting onto your knees, so you were facing him, “but I think if we were going to ruin something, we would’ve done it a long time ago.”

Charles exhaled through his nose, shaking his head a little — half amused, half completely undone by you.

Then he leaned forward, hand cradling your neck and kissed you.

It was the kind of kiss that had history in it – thousands of “almosts,” all coming undone all at once. His other hand slid to your waist, holding you steady as your mouths slotted together like muscle memory. Your fingers slipped into his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned against your lips.

You gasped into him, and he took that opportunity to deepen the kiss - tongue slow and patient.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless.

“I want to see you,” he said softly, fingers ghosting along the towel still draped around your back, “all of you. Without anyone else around.” He meant the house, the geust annex that you had always claimed at your grandparents’ house.

“No one’s around now,” you responded.

He blinked. Eyes widening as he looked to your surroundings, “You’re sure? I mean... et si quelqu'un voit ?”

“I’ve been sure since you walked out of that sea like some slutty James Bond. And I don’t care if they see.”

“Putain.” He whispered, forehead falling against your collarbone as he laughed, low and warm. “You’re impossible.”

You shrugged, grinning down at him, fingers tangled in his hair. “You’re obsessed with me.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, like it was the simplest, easiest truth in the world.

You tugged the towel from your shoulders, letting it pool behind you as you climbed into his lap. His hands gripped your waist, guiding you easily, before they skimmed down to settle on your hips.

You were still wearing your bikini bottoms.

Charles ran his hands up your thighs, slipping under the damp material, fingertips brushing over the curve of your ass. You leaned forward, leaving small kisses from the back of his ear to his collar bone as you grinded ever so slightly, and his head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured like a prayer up to the star littered sky.

“I think I do,” you said, reaching between your bodies to trace the outline of him through his swim shorts. His hips jerked up slightly, and he bit his lip.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, before pulling you in for another kiss.

You rutted against each other like that - slow, filthy, sharing too-fast breaths and too-wet kisses - until he was rambling needily in French, practically begging under his breath.

“I want to taste you,” he said suddenly, voice rough, urgent.

“You can,” you replied, already sliding off his lap to lie back on the towel.

Charles knelt between your legs, hooking your knees onto his shoulders, eyes devouring you like he’d dreamt about this exact moment. He leaned forward, pushing your thighs apart as his thumbs stroked along your hipbones gently.

When he finally ducked his head, licking a stripe through your folds, you cried out - high, shocked, needy.

He groaned like he’d just won his first race of the season. “Tu es si douce.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” you gasped, legs twitching as he latched onto your clit and sucked, slow and devastating.

That made him laugh against you, and the vibration made your eyes roll back.

You reached for his hair, anchoring yourself - but he didn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. He moaned like it turned him on to make you fall apart, the taste of you on his lips too sweet, and from the way his hips were moving against the towel, you knew he was getting off on it too.

Your thighs trembled as your orgasm crept closer, the pressure at your center building and building until it snapped.

You came with a breathy, broken whimper - twitching under his tongue, gripping his curls like a lifeline.

When you finally looked down, he was already crawling up your body to kiss you, licking his glossy lips, face flushed.

“I could die right now,” you muttered, holding his cheeks as he nipped his way up to you, “and I’d go happy.”

Charles smiled against your cheek. “Don’t die yet.”

He reached down to tug at his shorts, freeing his cock - hard, flushed, already leaking.

You bit your lip at the sight, “I need you, like bad, I need you inside of me.”

Charles bit your cheek, “You have me chérie”

He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, both of you moaning in sync.

The stretch burned in the best way - all that tension, finally released.

He moved carefully at first, studying your face, brushing the hair from your forehead like he wanted to remember every detail. But it didn’t stay slow for long.

Soon, your bodies were pressed together, the soft slap of your skin on his punctuated by moans and the occasional shaky laugh.

“I’ve thought about this so many times, dream about it too” he murmured against your jaw. “Fucking you, kissing you like this. I thought I was insane.”

“You are,” you whispered back, angling your face so his lips slotted against yours “But it’s okay. So am I.”

He kissed you again, harder this time - a little unhinged.

When you came again, he was right behind you, whispering your name r against your neck as he finished inside the condom, hips still rolling as he chased every wave of it.

You lay there, tangled together, hearts pounding war drums. The sound of sea crashing gently filled your ears once the roaring subsided.

“You need to walk ahead of me,” you said, slipping your cover-up back on, cheeks still flushed. “There’s no way I can walk in right after you and not look like I’ve just been railed on the beach.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, smug. “That’s because you have just been railed on the beach.”

You kicked sand at him, grinning. “Okay, Sherlock.”

He smirked, brushing off his chest. “Fine. Give me two minutes. I’ll go in first and pretend I’ve been, I don’t know, looking for sunscreen?”

“You’re terrible at lying,” you rolled your eyes and snorted.

“I’m fantastic at lying. I’m Monégasque, it’s part of the charm.”

“Fine,” You cross your arms and pop out your hip, “What’s the story Molière ?”

He looked over his shoulder, already halfway up the short, light wood staircase, “You go in through the side entrance,” he said, glancing over his shoulder like a boy caught stealing. “I’ll head in first and give you a thirty-second head start.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And then what? You’ll tell them that I evaporated into thin air?”

He grinned, all teeth and dimples. “Relax. I’ll say you’re rinsing off in the outdoor shower.”

You blinked. “That’s not even—”

But he was already gone, bounding up the stairs with the confidence of a man who absolutely just came on a beach towel.

You waited thirty seconds. Then ten more. Then crept along the patio, hoping no one noticed your flushed cheeks, slightly askew bikini, or the unmistakable handprint pressed into the curve of your thigh.

As you edged around the corner toward the glass double doors, you heard him.

“She’s just rinsing off outside,” Charles was saying, smooth as anything, probably flashing that annoyingly innocent smile he used to get out of speeding tickets. “Sunscreen was making her itchy, I think. She’ll just be a minute.”

You cursed silently, immediately sneaking behind the tall bushes to your grandmother's garden and bent over, cupping frigid water from the garden hose onto your legs, then splashing some on your collarbone, hoping it would cool you off and cover up the fact you’d just had the best orgasm of your life. Your hair was an entirely other story, a lost cause- half-damp from the ocean, half-tangled from Charles's fingers. You did your best and twisted it into a messy bun.

You tip-toed back to where you left the bag full of damp, used towels and stepped inside, immediately ambushed by the scent of grilled prawns and olive oil and the watchful eyes of literally everyone.

“Ah, there she is,” Charles said, way too fast, way too chipper, as he leaned against the hallway arch, his damp swimming trunks slipping low over the V of his hips. “All rinsed.”

You shot him a look. A very deadly, “I will drown you in the sea next time” look.

“Your hair’s wet,” Carlos noted, brow raised. He was slicing lemons and squinting suspiciously.

“Outdoor shower,” you said brightly. “Rinsed.”

Pierre nodded slowly. “That thing’s freezing.”

“I’m brave.”

Before Carlos could reply, Charles grabbed your wrist and tugged lightly. “Actually, can I borrow her?” he asked the room, casual as hell. “She got sunscreen in her eye. I think she left her stuff in the guest bath.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet trying to follow him, tossing the group a helpless, What a weirdo shrug.

“Bathroom excuse,” you hissed once the bathroom door shut behind you. “That’s your best cover story?”

He was laughing, playing with the tie of your bikini bottoms. “You have to admit, I handled the pressure beautifully.”

“You said I got sunscreen in my eye,” you replied, gasping when he lifted you onto the cool marble counter. “You could’ve gone with heatstroke. Heatstroke’s believable.”

“I’m having a stroke,” Charles muttered, kissing down your chest, “from how good you taste.”

You kicked at him, weakly, laughing and breathless. “You’re disgusting.”

“You love it,” he said, flashing a grin before ducking to press his mouth to your inner thigh, right where you were still sore and glistening from earlier.

Your breath caught.

“Charles,” you warned, twitching slightly as he nosed against you again, “we don’t have time.”

“We do,” he said, voice low. “Shower’s quick.”

You pushed him away and glared. “I had to fake rinse in the hose, Charles.”

“Sexy.” He tilted his head at you from between your thighs.

“You just want me naked again.”

“I need you naked again,” he corrected, tugging down your bottoms.

“You’re insatiable.”

“Shut up and get in the shower.” He pulled you from the counter and lead you to the glass shower like a man possessed.

You smirked as the glass cubicle steamed up. “Very romantic.”

“I’ll light a candle next time.” He offered

The moment the water hit your bodies, everything turned slippery and hot and way too urgent. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for this since you were eighteen, muttering something in French that sounded like a swear. Your laughs turned to groans and then back to laughs again as you nearly knocked over a bottle of expensive shampoo.

“Shhh,” you hissed, grinning, trying to muffle your laugh into his shoulder. “I swear to god, if we get caught-”

“What’s he gonna do?” Charles asked, tilting his face up to the warm stream, “Bench me for... fraternization?”

“He’s my grandfather, Leclerc.”

Charles grinned and squirted a generous amount of sickly-sweet smelling soap into his hands, “So I’m keeping it in the family.”

He lathered it across your body, taking obscene care with every curve like he was committing it all to memory. “You’re ridiculous,” you breathed, shivering when his thumb slipped between your legs. “Someone’s going to hear.”

“Then you’ll just have to be quiet,” he murmured, sinking to his knees, “Won’t you?”

You gasped at the feeling of his mouth on you, wet and filthy, tongue moving in lazy circles like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, nails dragging lightly down his neck. “You’re actually going to make me come in my grandparents’ guest shower.” Your hand clutched the towel rail uselessly, legs shaking under the weight of him.

“You say that like it’s not a compliment.” he replied, slightly garbled against you and the constant flow of water.

When your orgasm hit, you bit your own wrist, hard, stifling the noise like your life depended on it.

Charles stood slowly, his hands trailing up your slick skin, pausing to cup your breasts before he kissed you hard. He twisted you in his hold, pressing you against the tile and entered you with a hand braced around your stomach, a soft moan punched into the space behind your ear.

The rhythm was rough and fast, water slapping against tile as you struggled to keep your balance, hands splayed flat against the wall.

“I’m gonna-fuck,” he groaned, “you feel so-”

You came first, cheek pressed against the aquamarine glass, whispered fuckfuckfuck into the air. He followed soon after, groaning your name like it was his finish line.

You panted heavily while he kissed your shoulder, your spine, your lower back.

“I’m never going to recover,” he muttered. “Dinner’s going to be my own personal hell”

“We are not sitting next to each other,” you said, the words coming out dreamier than you intended.

“Fair. I’ll sit across. That way I can stare.”

You threw a wet sponge at him.

You eventually emerged, faces suspiciously flushed and hair semi-dry from frantic towel-rubbing. Charles had made it downstairs first, suspiciously fresh in his white linen shirt, greeting everyone like he hadn’t just rearranged your insides ten minutes ago.

You followed five minutes later, slipping into your seat with a tight smile and an overcompensating, “Sorry! Took forever finding my moisturizer.”

The table was full, sun-kissed faces, salt-rimmed glasses, and someone already yelling at Pierre for double-dipping his bread.

But the stares were undeniable.

Carlos raised a brow at your still-wet hair. “So the outdoor shower’s working now?”

You blinked. “Oh. Um. Yeah.”

“The water pressure sucks,” added Pierre.

“I survived,”

Fred saved you from further probing, arriving later than the pair of you, fresh from a work call and muttering apologies as he sat at the head of the table. “Hope you’ve all behaved without me.”

There was a chorus of yeses and too-late giggles. Someone slid him a plate. Conversation picked up again.

You, trying to be normal, passed the wine carafe.

Charles, trying harder to be normal, visibly stiffened.

He’d been charming all evening, laughing at jokes, clinking glasses, talking tire degradation with Lando, but the second Fred sat down, something shifted. He went rigid. Avoided eye contact like it was a death sentence.

You watched him from across the table with quiet glee.

Fred, of course, noticed nothing. Or at least pretended not to. He glanced at Charles mid-conversation and said, “You alright fils? You’ve gone quiet.”

Charles choked on a bite of shrimp. “Oui. Oui, très bien. Just thinking. About-um. Strategy.”

Your foot kicked his under the table.

“Strategy?” you echoed, voice innocently amused as you sipped your wine.

Charles shot you a warning look.

“Yes,” he said flatly, not looking directly at you. “Hard compounds.”

Kika, across the table, burst out laughing into her drink.

Fred raised a brow but let it slide, engaging in hushed conversation with your grandmother.

Once you were sure your friends were engaged enough not to notice, you leaned over the table, pretending to reach for the salad and whispered to him, voice smug, “You just said ‘hard’ in front of my grandfather.”

“Stop,” Charles muttered, flushing. “I’m already dying.”

“I think you’ll live.”

“Barely.”

He finally looked at you, eyes narrow, cheeks red-and that’s when Fred turned to him again, barely sparing you a glance as you returned to your seat, salad bowl in hand.

“Charles, you alright?” he asked, now frowning.

Charles flinched like he’d been caught mid-crime. “Yes. Very. Uh. Excuse me, I just need to… refill the water.”

“You’re holding a full glass.”

“I’m-parched.”

He stood abruptly, chair scraping, and beelined for the kitchen like a man in flight.

You turned back to your plate, biting your lip to keep from grinning.

Fred watched him go, then looked at you.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Sunstroke,” you replied easily, taking a sip of your wine. “He’s very delicate.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #cl16 x you #cl16 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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dailydamnation · 24 days ago

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Time Is a Flat Stepping Disc Bonus 17 The Illyana Rasputin timeline issue by issue

X-Men: Grand Design--Second Genesis #2 In a different universe, events happen much the same for Illyana and the X-Men, just... not quite exact and more summarized. Illyana is crankier here when she returns from Limbo.

Is it available on Marvel Unlimited: Yes Has it been reprinted in an Epic Collection: No

#illyana rasputin #magik #kitty pryde #colossus #x-men #grand design #second genesis #illyana timeline

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zephyrprince8 · 1 year ago

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I love that Ed Piskor makes such a good attempt at incorporating the pre-history of the X-Men story like the fight between Sub-Mariner and the original Human Torch.

#ed piskor #the human torch #human torch #sub mariner #namor the sub mariner #namor #comics #comic books #marvel #marvel comics #x men #x men comics #xmen #x men grand design

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missadangel · 2 months ago

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MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 9: Hurt

prev chapter series masterlist next chapter

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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