#diego sbr

inspired by this fanart

cw: sub!diego, dom!reader, reader is kinda mean, degradation, use of 'slut' and 'whore', semi-public, humiliation, mild dacryphilia, mild footplay (im not into feet guys :/), begging, genuinely just filth.

pt 2 here!

diego brando. 

the absolute bane of your existence. the biggest pain in your ass to exist. try as you might to like him (and god, have you tried), it was near impossible when he’d strut around like he owned whatever building he entered. when he held his chin up so high he made sure he was looking down on you every time you spoke. his arrogance just pissed you off, his very voice alone finding a way to get under your skin unlike anyone else's. 

he felt the same way about you, of course. when it came to boasting about victories or his god-given talent, nobody could deny that while obnoxious…it was true. as much as anyone wanted to shut him up, nobody came close to his level of talent. 

other than you. 

and that really pissed him off because it meant that for once in his life, dio had competition. you were graceful in a way that made it hard to pick up on weaknesses yet somehow just as ruthless in overtaking those ahead of you. you were unpredictable and wild and everything he couldn’t stand to be up against. there had to be some way, something he could take advantage of. 

that was how the two of you ended up in what was originally agreed to be a friendly competition between you both. an easy race where winners and losers didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but naturally, the titles still applied to you both deep down. to accept defeat to him, even in a friendly race, would be a disgrace. 

to your surprise, all was going well for the first section of the race. it was just the two of you, so it wasn’t like rules could be easily enforced, but he seemed to be playing fair — never getting too close and keeping his mouth shut for once — though honestly that irked you more. he had to be up to something, but what? 

“you know, you’re not half bad,” diego drawled as he caught up to you, a familiar glint in his eyes that screamed trouble. “Too bad your horse seems a little down today.” 

your eyebrows furrowed, not wanting him to think he got to you, but you were in utter confusion trying to decipher what he was trying to say. your horse was fine, was it not? she was running like usual and she showed no signs of slowing down or becoming weaker. 

“what’re you on about, brando?” you called back, and that was when it hit you, or rather, your horse. you hardly had time to process the way he had rammed his own horse a little more to the right, enough for it to distress your horse and nudge it just slightly, causing you to jump. it seemed like karma was on your side though, because despite his efforts and his usual precision, something about that sharp move had thrown his own horse off balance, causing it to move in a jagged way that ended up with his body on the ground — a loud thud against the otherwise silent field. 

“dio, you dick!” 

your voice was the first real noise he heard when his moment of being winded was over, and he pushed himself up slightly on his forearms, still a little dazed from the fall. your horse was somewhere off to the side now and you were left towering over him with your arms folded and a stern look that told him he was about to get an earful from you. 

“you think that’s funny? trying to push me off my horse?” god, your voice was irritating. he’d tell you to shut up if he wasn’t currently on the ground and trying to regain some more breath, afraid his voice would sound too weak otherwise. “i should’ve known an asshole like you was up to something. why’d you have to be such a pain all the time?” 

diego scoffed at your words, attempting to push himself up to retort with another one of his snarky insults before he was pushed down harshly again by your foot — the heel of your boots digging into his chest slightly. not enough to hurt him, but to keep his already weakened body down. “oh no you don’t,” you frown, a little harsher than you’d normally speak and clearly he’s quite taken-aback by your tone too, though it’s hard to tell underneath that cat-like scowl he’s giving you. “you’re lucky i don’t make you eat dirt you piece of shit.” 

“you’re such a—” he’s cut off by his own hiss of pain when your foot presses into his lower abdomen again, and it’s then that he really realises the situation he’s in. the pressure on his abs and the way you’re speaking to him as he lays there helpless on the ground, and for a man who loves winning more than life itself, he’s suddenly thrilled to be in such a position. or at least his body is anyway — a shiver running down his spine that he curses because this was so wrong to him. 

as much as he tries to will it away, it’s too late. at the lack of a harsh insult, your eyes flicker down on instinct to find what could only be a tent in his pants and a reluctant flush on his cheeks, and you don’t know whether to laugh or to run away. you settle for lifting your foot off of him instead, but the second the pressure is gone, diego’s hips twitch back up in a pathetic attempt of regaining some of it again. “n-no—” 

you both freeze at that, equally surprised. diego brando — the bane of your existence, the biggest pain in your ass to exist — was beneath you, practically begging you to step on him. you had to chuckle at how ridiculous this whole thing was, your heel digging into his pelvis harder than before, to which he let out a groan. broken, unsure, yet so very desperate for more. 

“are you seriously getting off on this?” ignoring the way your own body is heating up, you choose to taunt him instead because after the stunt he pulled? he deserved to be embarrassed. “you’re such a freak.” your boot trailed lower down anyway until it was finally resting against where he needed you the most — the print of his dick that he knew was leaking stupidly in his boxers with every insult you spat at him.

“s-shut up,” he managed to choke out, hips grinding up in a smooth but slow rhythm against you to try and relieve the heat that was consuming him whole. a breathy moan escaped his lips at a particularly good angle, the heel brushing over his already sensitive tip just right to make him pant like a dog beneath you. “just let me…” 

“like hell i will,” your voice cut through his ragged breaths. there was no way you were just gonna let him take control like this when he was this pathetic. what would that make you? “you don’t even deserve to cum after your little stunt back there.” 

a hand shot up to grab at your ankle before you could even think to pull away from him, and when his eyes met yours? the breath was pulled out from your lungs. never had you seen someone look so depraved yet ashamed before now — his eyes a little glossy from what you could only assume was from being edged and humiliated like this by something so degrading. “please—” 

but still, diego couldn’t help but to keep pleading for more. for friction and for release because if he couldn’t get it then he felt he might die from both crippling embarrassment and sexual frustration. “‘m sorry, okay? ‘m so so sorry…just don’t stop…” seeing him like this was something you never could have imagined, but you were undoubtedly loving every second of seeing him like this beneath you. knowing that he could only squirm and beg for me. 

“such a slut.” you tisked, grinding your heel a little to match his own movements, and you swore he nearly came right then when you called him that, a strangled noise falling from his lips in pure bliss. “the great diego brando getting off like a whore.” 

“god—fuck—it feels so good…” it was said quietly, but you had of course heard it, just like every other debauched noise you were pulling from him. “maybe you should thank me considering i’m doing this for you.” he gasped when you pressed down harder again, his head falling back sinfully at how good the pain felt. 

he didn’t care for anything anymore. titles, respect, competition. he just needed to cum already. needed some sort of relief so he could just move on and act like this had never happened. maybe move away so he would never have to see you again. “thank you! oh—thank you so much…” 

diego’s hips began bucking wildly against you now, defying the previous rhythm you had established — a telltale sign that he was close. that along with the way his fingers were digging into the grass like it would save him. “i’m close, ‘m so close,” he whined, eyes squeezing shut before you demanded they stay open and on you again. “please let me cum— i need it so badly…promise i’ll never bother you again, i just—” 

“just shut up and cum already, brando.” 

your sharp words had diego seeing white as his orgasm came crashing over him in unforgiving waves, a silent scream being torn from his chest as he came in his pants like a stupid virgin, all while you watched with that look of interest hidden by a mask of disgust that he felt was the reason he was cumming more than usual, if he were being honest. 

after a long moment in which he caught his breath and managed to get to his feet again, albeit a little unbalanced, he was turning his back to you in a miserable attempt to hide the stain that had leaked through onto his pants. how the hell was he getting back home now? 

“we don’t—” he sighed, too fucked out to sound intimidating, especially after whining like he was in heat — but attempting to at least sound serious. “don’t speak to me again.”