#custom fight shorts

[marsbotz]

im normal about him. btw

[nyxwoven]

everything at work is making me MAD and despite that i WILL still go to the gym with one of my friends later 😤

[bakedpotatomika]

I couldn’t help but think about this but I actually really REALLY wish Dragonfable had more black hairstyles. ☹️ Likeeeee there are tons of options already and I think they’re all super neat but I can’t help but be a little disappointed that almost all of them are straight hair! I think I could maybe only find three black hairstyles in any of the barbershops in towns in the game. Like idk I just think it would be neat if my hero can have some variations of locs, twists, or braids.  Like I even have a pinterest board filled with hair refs https://www.pinterest.com/britneysaintjoy/black-hairstyle-and-face-refs/

Like!!! I THINK IT WOULD BE NEAT!!! This has been in the back of my mind for days now and I’m now wondering where do I post this even if there is like a 1% chance that this would be taken into account by the DF team. 😭

[kingdom-falls]

Okay not to be dramatic but I think I'm fucked

[void-tiger]

Some days I think I probably do need an actually trained service animal for mental health crap + the occasional chronic crap affecting my mobility.

But like…I don’t really want a dog. I want a Highly Trained mainecoon or norwegian forest cat. Just. This very large very fluffy very baseline breed intelligent cat known to take on BEARS (or, home invaders and men attempting SA).

I’d be THAT Crazy Lady walking this giant fluff monster most days, but other days just have my lap full of fluff when my hips-down don’t want to cooperate, or I need the comforting weight and fluffy company to hold the brain static at bay.

And some days…look. It hurts to grasp things. Or I risk dropping things. And cats can and will open cupboards and drawers if the handles let them hook their paws Just So to make up for the lack of opposable thumbs.

(Yeah yeah I know people are more accustomed to training dogs for this, but I’ve had quite a bit of luck training my “just housecats” as adults with various things, and people post the adventures they take with their mainecoons like, all the time…so think of what I could do with socializing and training a cat if I had the chance to do so.

(…also I just get along better with cats than dogs. They’re more tolerant to my need to not have a true routine. Also they poop in a box.)

[belfryprepz]

When the shift is so bad it ruins your whole day 😍

[hairmetal666]

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

[jymwahuwu]

-You play a stripping game with Aventurine! See how much you can win?

cw: yandere, dub-con, manipulative behavior, naive, drunk reader, reader has female reproductive system, creampie, getting stripped naked after playing games

"What? Did that customer really say that? This is so silly!" You held a wine glass with ice in one hand and giggled drunkenly. And Aventurine is sitting next to you now. He confirmed your question, causing you to snicker again. He adds the sweet golden liquid to your cup. "That's right - I always advised them not to… Who would have thought that that business would become so exaggerated?"

"Hmm, that's enough, that's enough…" You took another sip of wine, leaned on his table, turned your head, smiled, and looked at the outline of his face. It's been weeks since you talked to Aventurine like this, in his villa. But once you meet him, there is an endless stream of things to say, maybe this is the precious friendship.

"Anyway, how about playing a game when you have free time?" he suggested.

You got interested and asked him what his game was. Aventurine held up your palm and explained the rules to you several times. You nodded, but you didn't really understand. "Okay, okay, how many credits should we bet?"

"It's vulgar to talk about money all the time, my friend." He smiled and held up a finger. "How about taking off one piece of clothing after losing a round?"

"Take off… clothes?" You tilted your head… closed your eyes and shook your head. "ah?"

Aventurine said in surprise. "It's a popular game. Didn't you know?"

"I-Of course I know!!" You raised your voice, pretending you already knew everything. Thinking of the value of his outfit… "Hmph, I can take away your hundreds of thousands of outfits soon."

"1, 6, 2!"

"6, 6, 6!"

"It's time to take off your clothes." He raised his chin and reminded. You snorted, removing a jacket and throwing it on his couch.

"4, 5, 6!"

"6, 6, 6!"

"What?" You picked up the three dice, checked and struck them from different angles, but there was nothing strange about them. "Did you cheat? Why are the results always so incredible?" Aventurine chuckled and shrugged. "I told you before that I'm very lucky, don't you believe me?"

"Ah, okay…" You reluctantly stared at his exquisite attire, which he had never taken off, and then looked down at your own graphic t-shirt and shorts, which were pulled up so that the bra and the breasts wrapped inside were exposed to the air. Embarrassment tugs at your heart and you try to fight back. "Next round! I don't believe you can beat me!"

2, 1, 1.

6, 6, 6.

If question marks could pop up in reality, a thousand question marks would have popped up above your head. You stare at the results in disbelief. How could Aventurine be so lucky? You can't even take one of his watches or rings? And are you so defeated now that you have to take off either your bra or panties?

"I-I won't play anymore. Boring game!" You bluffed, asking to get your clothes back, but Aventurine raised his eyebrow. "Awwww, it seems there is a coward here…"

"Who are you calling a coward?"

"You didn't keep your bet."

You are not a coward! You took back the hand holding the clothes and tremblingly touched your underwear and bra. Which one should you take off? If you lose again, will you really be completely naked? How do you get home? In the midst of your thoughts and drunkenness, you settled on a bra, but then covered your bare breasts with your hands. "Humph, now is the beginning of my victory!"

Victory? Aventurine almost laughed out loud, holding back the ridicule rising in her throat, knowing that you might leave in a huff, and all the previous arrangements would be ineffective. You open a dice simulator from the Internet to avoid possible cheating from Aventurine.

5, 1, 3.

6, 6, 6.

…It’s really…BEYOND WEIRD. How on earth is this possible? Is Aventurine walking on some lucky path you don't know and being protected by the lucky Aeon? But anyway, now you have to take off your panties and keep your promise. Now you were completely naked, in his villa, in front of your friend.

"Hey! You... don't have to do this... " You watched as Aventurine put them all in a box and locked it up. These clothes…are no longer your property. "There's no way I'm going home naked!"

"Didn't someone just say they were going to take my clothes away? I thought you were serious?" He chuckled, pulled your arm, and guided you onto his lap. With your brain like a drunken fog and embarrassment, you knelt on the sofa in confusion, your legs spread apart, and the luxurious sofa sank. A gentle kiss. Bring some hot air. Like an electric shock. "Umm…"

"Too bad your clothes won't come back, but you can win a new set by…"

Aventurine's thumb rubbed against your hot cheek for half a minute before he reluctantly unbuttoned his pants and took out his long, swollen and erect cock, the glans teasing your slit. You whimpered, placing your hands on his chest, and the glans stretched your folds and the warm inside of your vagina. "I…"

This is really more incredible than these rounds of dice. You were bouncing on his cock, moaning and sobbing in ecstasy. His hand cupped your ass, occasionally slapping it in exchange for you squeezing his cock unconsciously, while rubbing your clit with his other hand.

As the cream spurts into your body, ecstatic bliss fills you. You tighten your limbs, your butt trembles, and you wrap your hands around his neck, gasping for air.

"You win. I'll give you a new set when you wake up, okay?"

[sunderwight]

SVSSS "no Abyss" fluff AU where Shen Qingqiu just keeps accidentally proposing to a full grown disciple Luo Binghe in ways that don't register to him, but do register to Binghe, but Binghe also knows that his Shizun is clueless and doesn't actually mean it, so he's trapped in a hell of constantly getting what he desires most and fighting the urge to take advantage of the situation in order to actually claim it.

For instance, it turns out that PIDW has a knock-off version of Valentine's Day thanks to one really ill-planned VIP chapter. Shen Qingqiu found that one so egregious even he mostly scrubbed it from his mental records, but the long and short of it is that in the PIDW chocolate exists, but it's a symbolic treat that is only meant to be given to someone you intend to marry.

Of course, Shen Qingqiu discovers chocolate in PIDW and IMMEDIATELY hands it over to Luo Binghe, because he wants to see how Binghe's magnificent cooking skills can utilize this ingredient. Also he wants bon bons and this seems like the only way he's gonna get any in this lifetime.

Naturally, Binghe does make delicious bon bons, all the while fighting down the urge to be like "you proposed so we're getting married now, no take backs!"

Shizun eats the chocolates and Binghe counts slowly backwards from ten and reminds himself that getting what he wants by way of trickery would ultimately deny him what he wants most, which is for Shen Qingqiu to choose him of his own volition.

And of course, this shit just keeps happening. Somehow Shen Qingqiu keeps "forgetting" (read: subconsciously repressing) the little details about various proposal customs in PIDW (of which there are A LOT thanks to all the wife acquisitions) and proposing to Binghe almost constantly. This part of the world has a special ritual proposal wine? Better give some to Binghe! This demonic cult requires one to present a specific monster kill to their intended? Shen Qingqiu just so happened to kill one such monster himself and now he's given it over to Binghe to claim the parts (Binghe's cultivation would make better use of them!) They're visiting a neighboring sect where couples traditionally tie their wrists together with a particular type of rope as a symbol of engagement? Somehow, someway, Shen Qingqiu is going to find a good reason to tie himself to Binghe with the betrothal rope.

Not only is this dance giving Luo Binghe intense mixed feelings, and causing him to lie awake at night trying to figure out if Shen Qingqiu somehow does actually know what he's doing, and wants Binghe to bamboozle him into a marriage (or is that just wishful thinking??), it also causes him ever-more stress whenever SQQ goes on a mission with anyone else.

Especially Liu Qingge.

What if he does the clueless not-proposing to Liu Qingge? What if Liu Qingge proves to be less strong-willed than Luo Binghe (absolutely possible) and "accepts"? What if he's stupid enough to not figure out that Shen Qingqiu is a clueless idiot, and thinks it's genuine?

Shizun might marry him just to avoid having an awkward conversation!

Anyway things come to a head when finally, for once, Luo Binghe is the one who does the accidental proposal. And this time Shen Qingqiu does notice, and he gets all flustered and scolds Binghe to "be more careful" and "not waste such gestures on this old master, or anyone Binghe doesn't want taking advantage!" and Luo Binghe, who has aged one thousand decades in the past few years, still nobly resists the urge to lay out all the times Shizun has made this exact same "mistake" towards him and instead just confesses. Shoots his shot. Now or never!

He almost immediately regrets it because he had a whole plan for how to slowly ease Shizun into the idea over the course of several years, and he's prepared to be rejected now that he's fucked that up. Because he knows his master is delicate about stuff like this. Why else would he be so atypically obtuse?

But, well. Shen Qingqiu always said that the most realistic thing about the harem was that no one in their right mind would turn down a marriage proposal from Luo Binghe.

So he just, uh, says yes?

Binghe's like, you mean this whole time all I had to do was be the one to ask?!

But also he's really too happy to give a shit about the particulars either. They will have a beautiful wedding! No take backs. If SQQ gets cold feet then Luo Binghe has a list and compiled evidence of fifty million marriage proposals from him, so now he definitely has to follow through!

[maplesyrupsainz]

hi hi! I really like your imagines <3

Could I request a Charles imagine? Where the reader is the daughter of Toto Wolff and she and Charles have been secretly dating. After Charles wins the WDC, the reader hardlaunches their relationship and everyone is freaking out about it.

Thank you sm!!

pairing: charles leclerc x wolff!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: imagine/smau

warnings: just fluff, kind of short too

prompt: custom you and [driver] are finally ready to hard launch your relationship

a/n: this request inspired something in me LOL hope u like it?! wasnt sure if the req wanted smau or written but u got both instead LOL

my masterlist | my 1k celebration

instagram ->

ynwolff

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc, and 396,184 others

ynwolff merc girl lifeeeee

view all 6,273 comments

user1 helloooo?? the flowers

user2 i bet she gets 100 bouquets a day

user3 i wish i had her life

user4 world's best nepo baby

charles_leclerc would look better in ferrari merch

ynwolff you would say that

mercedesamgf1 back off

charles_leclerc 👀

messages ->

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

at first, the idea of sharing your relationship with the world terrified you. the things people might say, what they'd think. but, you realised, as time progressed, that the idea of not sharing and people not knowing about your relationship seemed even scarier; you were becoming somewhat desperate to let the world know that charles leclerc was your boyfriend.

the only issue was gaining your father's approval. you had convinced yourself it would be easy to obtain, but the harder you thought about it the less you agreed with that sentiment. but, you couldn't hide forever.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the formula one season had flown by you in a rush of lights; you blinked and it was almost over. it had been a thrilling title fight between max verstappen and charles, and this race was the decider.

you're pretty sure that you didn't take a breath for the whole race, closing your eyes on multiple occasions. no one knew what had you so invested in this race in particular; being the mercedes team principal's daughter, you had come to many a race and tended not to be that interested in the sport. in truth, you did enjoy it but it had been your whole life, you assumed it was normal to become somewhat burnt out.

twitter ->

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you had never ran quite like it; from the mercedes garage to ferrari. all you knew was that you had to be there for him when he got out of the car. in that moment, you didn't care who saw or what they thought or if they found out the truth about your relationship with charles. all that mattered was him.

and when you saw him, you knew he felt the same as you did. you broke out into a grin as his eyes caught yours and, before you knew it, his lips were on yours and your face in his hands. shutter sounds and flashings of cameras surrounded you, your head spinning, your heart swelling with pride; your boyfriend had won his first drivers' championship.

instagram ->

f1wagupdates

liked by charles_leclerc, susie_wolff, and 183,274 others

f1wagupdates after an olympic-esque dash from the mercedes garage to ferrari, y/n wolff joined charles leclerc in the celebration of winning his first ever wdc! is this the hard launch of a secret relationship? what does toto think? 👀 thoughts?

tagged: charles_leclerc, ynwolff

view all 11,183 comments

user5 CHARLES IS THE ONE WHO GOT HER THE FLOWERS

user6 omg i never would've guessed this

user7 charles AND susie in the likes omg😭😭😭

user8 OMG OBSESSED WITH THESE TWO

user9 the way she ran

user10 literally soo iconic

user11 me when

ynwolff

liked by charles_leclerc, susie_wolff, and 679,926 others

ynwolff sorry dad

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all 14,273 comments

user12 the tshirt HAHAHA

user13 omg she's so real

user14 i still cant believe this

user15 THey R SO CUTE WTF

user16 how did they keep this a secret omg

susie_wolff i love my new son in law!

charles_leclerc 🥰🥰

ynwolff love you 🙆‍♀️

user17 ofc susie loves them tgthr

user18 wonder what toto thinks 💀

user19 the caption

user20 him bringing her breakfast in bed omg

user21 this is all i'll ever talk abt ever again

user22 f1 twt found dead

user23 we lost a real one gang (y/n wolff)

charles_leclerc love my girl

yourusername 🥺 love you crazy amounts

user24 STOP ITTTT

lewishamilton y/n toto said answer the phone

ynwolff my phone is dead rn sorry

user25 💀

[freedomfireflies]

Outlawed*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Knockout*

The one where Harry just wants to fight, and you just want to love him.

Word Count: 10k (folks...we made it!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blood, violence, brief use of a knife, pain kink, size kink

“Cherry?”

Instantly, your head lifts. The familiarly warm nickname sewing up the frayed seams of your heart and sending it into a tizzy.

However, instead of the handsome stranger you’ve come to miss, you find Owen. Eyebrow raised and expression curious.

With a quick clear of your throat, you pull your attention back. “What?”

“Cherry,” he repeats, nodding now toward the pastry in front of you. “Is it cherry tonight?”

You look down as well. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yup.”

“Hm.” His lips press together in thought. “I like the cherry. The way you make it, it’s…it’s sweet. But just a bit sour.”

“Yup...”

“It’s very good.”

“Thanks.”

His hands disappear into his pockets with a short nod of his head. “I know the customers really like it, too. Get comments about it all the time.”

“That’s good.”

“You could probably make it every night. If you wanted.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s a bit of a tense lull now as you continue rolling the dough, and you notice Owen begin to shift just out of your peripheral. He doesn’t normally hover when you’re working, not unless he’s got something he’d like to talk about, and his lingering glances make your insides begin to itch.

So, you raise a brow, and look over. “Is something…wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, not at all,” he stammers. “I just…wanted to check in. See how you’re feeling.”

Curious, you straighten up.“Oh…why?”

“Well, I’ve just noticed how quiet you’ve been,” he explains. “And I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just…trying to get my work done.”

He steps closer. “I noticed your friend hasn’t been coming around as much. The sullen one, with the dark clothes and broody temper?”

And despite everything else, you can’t help but smile at the memories. “Oh, yeah, well…I don’t think he’ll be coming by anymore. Don’t worry.”

“Ah.” A brief pause. “Is it because of Jesse?”

Instantly, you lean back, pulling the rolling pin away from the counter in surprise. “What?”

“Jesse. The other boy who was in here,” he says. “The tall, snobby one in the fancy clothes? Kind of annoying?”

“I…yeah.” Your lashes flutter. “I guess, I mean. They don’t really…get along. But…it’s probably my fault, too.”

He hums to himself almost contemplatively. “You’re not back with him, are you? The Jesse one?”

“Uh…no. Why?”

“I just…I don’t like him,” he sighs, arms crossing over his apron. “I think he’s trouble, and truth be told, you don’t always look that happy when he’s around.”

And you know he’s right, although you are a little surprised that he noticed. “Oh…well, no. No, not at all.”

“Good. Good.” He nods again. “Honestly, you can do a lot better than him, darling. Especially considering everything else he’s involved in.”

Now slightly more startled, your head tilts. “What do you mean?”

“Well…you know,” he begins, moving even closer before lowering his voice. “I don’t want to talk out of turn, and I certainly don’t want to scare you, but…I imagine you already know a little of what he really does, yeah?”

And even though you should know better than to answer, and even though you have Harry’s stern voice ringing in your ear not to trust him…you nod.

“Right, well…I know how much trouble that might put you in,” he continues. “And I know that with the fighting, and the betting, and the outsourcing…I’d hate to see you get dragged down with him—”

“Wait, what? What outsourcing?”

After a quick glance around the rather empty kitchen, Owen sighs, and murmurs, “Look, I don’t know everything, but a few months ago, he approached me with a proposal. He explained about the fights, and about the betting, and said that I’d be making easy money. That it was a guaranteed win because his fighter never lost.”

And suddenly, the image of Harry in that ring – night after night, hit after hit – paints itself across the forefront of your mind. You lose your breath, chest constricting with the thought of all the pain he endures at Jesse’s hand.

“And from what I could tell, he was taking the betting outside of the fights,” he explains. “I don’t know where or to how many other people, but he was pretty confident. And truth be told, I started to wonder if he’d maybe rigged it.”

“Rigged it? How?”

He shrugs. “I’m not really sure. Maybe he was paying the other fighter to lose or maybe he was paying his fighter extra to make sure he always won. Either way, I said no, and he took his business elsewhere. I think he was afraid of getting caught.”

And it makes sense. Every little detail clicking into place as you recall that night at the match. Jesse’s threat and his insistence on Harry’s win. Harry’s refusal not to play his game.

You straighten up. “Right.”

“Look, I just…I don’t want to see you get dragged down with him,” Owen finishes softly. “You’re a good kid, and he’s…you can do better. You can do a lot better than him, and I hope you know that.”

And you do now.

“Thanks,” you murmur before placing the rolling pin down. “I know this is a bit last minute, but is there any way I might be able to leave early today? I think I need to go find him.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He checks his watch. “Joshua’s supposed to be coming in soon. I could have him cover for you if you’d like to leave now.”

“Really? Would that be all right?”

“Sure. The pies probably won’t be as good as when you make ‘em, but…” He throws you a smile and you laugh. “Do what you need to do. And if you need any help, just give me a call, okay, darling?”

Nodding quickly, you wipe your hands down the front of your apron before ripping it off. “Of course. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

You’re out the diner door in under two minutes, nearly sprinting to your car as you work out a plan.

You’re almost positive that outside betting goes against the league’s rules (although you wonder if an illegal, underground fighting society even has any rules at all). But especially if it means Jesse ends up making more money on each fight than anyone else actually involved. The fighters included.

And if Jesse truly doesn’t want anyone else to know, you might have just found your loophole. A way to get him out of the picture and still keep Harry safe. 

You aren’t sure where to start. Truth be told, you aren’t sure what you’ll even say. But perhaps you don’t have to say much. Perhaps you only need Jesse to know that you know, and he’ll take care of the rest.

You head for the one place you know he might be. Your heart aches to call Harry, but without an address, a last name, or a phone number, you don’t really have very many options. You can only hope that he’ll find you once this is all over.

When you finally make it into the darker part of town, your pulse begins to pound. Slamming against the sides of your ribcage as you pull up to the familiar building and park. Right beside the only other car in the lot.

It’s not until you step out that you realize who it is.

“Well, well, well,” Jesse calls with a devious smirk, exiting his vehicle as well. “What a surprise, sugarplum. Come to watch tonight’s big fight?”

You take in a brave breath and begin toward him. “No. I’m here to talk to you.”

His brow raises, but he seems relaxed. In fact, far too relaxed for your liking. “I see. And can I assume this has something to do with your little boytoy?”

“Not quite. But it does have to do with you.”

“Ah.” He grins to himself before dramatically gesturing toward the warehouse. “Then, by all means.” 

So, with a shallow exhale, you oblige, trailing after him and toward the front door just as you did the other night. It’s an eerie deja-vu.  

And perhaps you should feel a bit more nervous than you do, but deep down, you know him. You know that he’s lacking any real emotion or regret, and maybe, that might just give you an edge.

After typing in the passcode, he leads you inside. The once glorious space now dark and empty. Sporting nothing but the large boxing ring and the stunning chandelier.

“I’ve gotta be honest, sugarplum, I don’t know what you said to him…but it worked,” he begins as you both walk further into the room. “I’ve never seen him fight like that before.”

You purse your lips together in an effort to resist screaming at him. “Well, that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is.” He stops near the ring and turns around, leaning on it as he studies you. “And I knew you’d come through.”

“Great. So, you’ll leave him alone now, right?”

“As long as he wins, sure.”

“You mean, as long as he makes you money.”

His arms cross now, and that smug expression makes you want to slug him. “As long as he does what he gets paid to do, then there won’t be a problem.”

“Right. And as long as you can keep outsourcing the bets.”

For the first time, he hesitates, that arrogant grin slipping ever-so-slightly as he raises his chin. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I stutter?” You step closer, and you notice him tense. “The money that you outsource to other bettors. The money that you make – that Harry makes you – on these fights every time he wins.”

His jaw ticks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“No? You wanna bet on that?”

And you don't think you've ever seen him so livid. Not even on his worst night when you were together, and your insides begin to wrench.

But before he can reply – before he can really do anything – a door opens. Allowing a rather bright stream of light into the warehouse as you and Jesse both reach up to shield your eyes.

And then...you see him.

Harry.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s really looking at, but you catch the exact second he realizes. The way his face contorts and his fingers curl into his fist.

And you want to explain, want to take back everything you said and tell him the truth, but he’s already speaking up before you can.

“What the fuck is this?” he calls, and it’s so very angry. But he’s not talking to you.

He’s talking to Jesse.

Jesse merely rolls his shoulders back, attempting to settle back into his condescending façade. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“No?” He scoffs. It’s bitter and full of disdain. “Because anything you fucking say to her concerns me.”

Your heart skips.

Jesse, however, merely snorts to himself before glancing at you. “It’s a wonder you manage to get anything done on your own.”

Harry instantly strides closer, and you suddenly feel safer. Relieved to be near him again and desperate to feel him. To wrap yourself in his arms and never let go. To make things right. 

But not once does he look in your direction. Instead keeping his focus on the man near the mat as he approaches. “Don’t fucking speak to her that way,” he nearly growls. “In fact, don’t speak to her at all.”

“Or what, hm?” The haughty cadence is back. “Do you really think you have any power outside of this ring?”

“I think I can knock your fucking teeth down your throat anywhere I goddamn please.”

“How incredibly barbaric.” Jesse’s brow cocks upwards. “Is he like this when he fucks, too?”

This question is directed at you, and no sooner has it left his mouth does Harry suddenly surge forward, grab him by the collar, and slam him back into the ring.

You gasp – or maybe you scream – before Harry removes one hand in order to send it flying straight into Jesse’s nose.

Blood is everywhere. Dripping from Jesse’s mouth, smeared across Harry’s knuckles, splattered along the concrete floor.  

And you want to intervene. Want to do anything that might make you feel a little less useless, but Harry is delivering the second blow before you can decide.

“You fucking—” Punch. “—piece—” Punch. “—of shit.” Each comment is swimming in vile contempt, his expression livid and incensed. 

You’ve never seen him this outraged. Didn’t even know a person could hold this much resentment, but it sends chills down your spine.

“Harry,” you murmur, taking a tentative step closer. “Harry, wait—”

“After everything you’ve fucking taken from me,” he sneers in Jesse’s face, “you wanna take her, too?”

Jesse’s only response is to suck in a large gasp for air that becomes gargled by the blood in his throat, and you feel sick. 

“Harry,” you try again, grasping onto his other arm in an effort to tug him back. “Harry, wait, there’s another way—"

He brushes you off almost too easily. “And now—” Another hit, this time to Jesse’s stomach. “—you think she can save you? You think you can use her to get what you fucking want?”

He sends his busted knuckles straight into Jesse’s teeth, and your insides twist.

“Harry, stop,” you plead, yanking on him a bit harder. “I found another way, okay, please—”

“You fucking think…I’m gonna let you use her?” he seethes before pulling his arm back for the next hit. “You’re out of your goddamn mind—”

Without much thought, you suddenly rush around him, and place your hands on his chest. Wedging yourself between the two just before he can land the next strike to Jesse’s jaw.

It’s stupid and it’s impulsive and it’s rash, but it works. And it’s the only thing that seems to pull him back from that treacherous edge as his eyes find yours and his arm instantly drops. 

It’s the first time he’s looked at you in days, and you want to cry. Because he’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before. Void of any emotion or understanding except for the realization that he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Harry,” you whisper, and his name cracks from your throat. “Harry, please, I…I found another way. Okay? He…you don’t have to do this—”

“I know. I want to,” he replies, still rather hostile.

“But I don’t want you to,” you argue. “Okay, I think we can get out of this. There’s a way to get him out—”

“I don’t want a way. I want to fucking kill him.”

“Harry, you…” You suck in a quick breath and move closer, nearly gluing yourself to his tense frame. “He’s outsourcing the bets. He’s stealing money from the fights, okay, and we can get him out.”

He looks surprised for all of a minute before the look suddenly vanishes and he attempts to brush you away. “I don’t care. He deserves this.”

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, “if you do this, they’ll kill you. Okay, and I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you—”

His features soften, although he still begins to push past you. “You’ll be all right—”

“Stop, just listen—"

“Cherry,” he warns now, “get out of the way.”

“Harry, please, don’t do this. You can’t do this—"

“I don’t care. Move—”

“Harry—”

“Cherry, move—”

“I love you.”

He stops. Seems to freeze right where he stands, but you barrel on. Clutching onto his dark, familiar hoodie as though trying to grab at his heart.

“I love you,” you repeat in a strained whisper. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I lied, I…I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was helping, or…or doing what was best, but it wasn’t – I wasn’t. I wasn’t, and I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. Blinks. Doesn’t move.

“And I love you.” You suck in a shaky breath as the tears fight their way to your waterline. “I love you so much it makes my chest hurt, and I can’t lose you, and…and please. Please don’t do this.”

And you’ve never felt so vulnerable or afraid. And not because of his silence, but because you’ve never loved anybody the way you love him. And you’ll understand if he no longer feels the same or if he’s changed his mind. If he wants to punish you for your lie or for your attempt to say it now.

Instead…he moves to rest his hands over yours. Keeping them over his heart before dipping down…and kissing you.

And it fixes everything. Absolutely everything. Because it’s perfect and familiar and so incredibly Harry.

And you’ve missed him.

You feel an arm slowly snaking around your lower stomach, and you begin to smirk against his lips before you realize who the arm really belongs to.

It yanks you back, ripping you away from the man you love until you’re cemented against Jesse’s chest.

Something cold and sharp is settled against your throat, and you take in a quick gasp for air. 

Harry attempts to remain calm as he’s forced to watch, but you can see the edges of his sanity coming loose. Jaw clenching, teeth gritting, brows furrowing. His shoulders are tense beneath his sweatshirt, his hands are balling into fists, and his head is cocking to the side like he’s debating whether or not to lunge.

Jesse merely laughs in your ear. “This is so fucking pathetic. And so goddamn cliché, sugarplum. Is this really what you want? Him?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, and Harry takes a brave step forward. But almost instantly, the blade of the knife begins to press further into the soft skin of your throat, immediately forcing Harry back with a dark scowl.

“Easy,” Jesse warns as you both go still. “Come on, now, I think you both know better than that.”

“Jess,” you pant, reaching for his wrist. “Jesse, please—”

“It’s so simple,” he continues, ignoring your attempt. “So fucking simple. Just win the match. Win the goddamn match and you get to go home."

“I don’t fucking care. Let her go,” Harry seethes. “This isn’t about her—”

“Except that it is.” Jesse’s smirk widens. “Of course it is. You wanted to leave to protect her, so you will stay to protect her. You made it about her, dear Harold. I’m only following your lead.”

Something shifts now in Harry’s expression, and it nearly ruins you. He looks…lost. So very lost and helpless. Like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do without you.

Jesse presses his nose to the side of your cheek, and you feel the warm blood smear across your skin. “So, if you wanna take this away from me, then I have no problem returning the favor.”

The knife is pulled taut to the curve of your throat, and you hiss, making Harry’s face pale.

And when his eyes finally flitter to yours, you realize what you have to do.

“Harry,” you whisper, nodding once. Subtle enough to go unnoticed by the man behind you before you smile gently. “It’s okay.”

You’re not sure he truly understands, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. He will soon.

So, you slowly lift your arm until you can bend your elbow, only to send it flying straight back into Jesse’s stomach.

It’s not enough to really harm him. In fact, it’s hardly enough to even surprise him, but it does distract him just enough to loosen his grip on the knife. Giving you the room you need to spin around in his hold and deliver your fist to his face.

The shock of the blow seems to do more than the strike itself. But he goes stumbling back, nevertheless, and the moment his arm has dropped from your waist, Harry steps forward and rips the knife from his hand. 

Once it’s in his possession, he grabs onto your wrist, and wrangles you behind him.

“Don’t ever…” he begins, stepping closer until the tip of the sharp blade can rest just beneath Jesse’s jaw, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

Jesse says nothing. He merely stares through his swollen eyelids and bloodstained lashes. 

“You’re no longer Harry’s sponsor,” you add. “And you’re no longer a part of the league. Do whatever you have to do to get out. Or we’ll do it for you.”

Harry smirks, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so smug.

When Jesse doesn’t answer, the weapon is nudged further into his bruised skin, forcing him to suck in a sharp breath as he finally grits, “Fine.”

Satisfied with his response, Harry lowers the knife, and steps back just far enough to let Jesse slip by. And the two of you watch as he stumbles toward the door without a single glance before disappearing into the parking lot.

Leaving you both behind.

The moment he’s gone, Harry turns to you, wraps his arms around your waist, and hoists you into the air. Keeping you snug in his embrace while you squeal and fling your arms around his neck for stability.

“Oh, that’s my fucking girl,” he nearly groans, and you laugh. “M’so goddamn proud of you, baby. Never seen something so fucking hot.”

You dip down until you can nuzzle your nose with his. “Well, I learned from the best.”

“Yeah? Good.” His grin nearly splits his face. “Can I please take you home now?”

And you nod so quickly, you’re nearly dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, easy. Easy, sweet girl, deep breath. I’ve got you, yeah? Know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon.”

With a sharp exhale, you motion your head up and down, allowing Harry to pull your hand closer in order to continue dabbing the alcohol swab over the torn skin of your knuckles.

His tiny bathroom falls quiet as you sit on the edge of the sink. Him between your legs, attention trained on your bruise. And while the sensation is rather uncomfortable, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so cared for. So…fulfilled and secure.

And you realize, this is how you were always meant to feel. 

With him.

“It’s gonna sting for a bit, but I’m almost done,” he promises, eyes softening when he sees your pained wince. “You’re being so good for me, Cherry, I’m so proud of you.”

You pout and it makes him chuckle. “You made it look so easy.”

“S’cause it wasn’t my first time.” He reaches for the gauze. “And we already know how I feel about pain.”

With a smirk of your own, you jut your chin toward him. “Yeah? And how are you feeling now?”

“Now?” His expression is wicked as he now leans just close enough to ghost his lips over yours. “Now…I feel fucking insatiable.”

You waste no time kissing him. In succumbing to his games and his endless teasing. You kiss him, and you don’t care if that means he wins, because you’ve never needed anyone or anything more.

And he’s so entertained by your desperation. His own bandaged hand finding your cheek as you sigh against his tongue and settle into this moment of adoration. 

When he pulls back, you’re winded.

He goes back to work dressing your knuckles, wrapping the white gauze around and around until your torn skin is thoroughly protected.

And you watch him as he does this. As he sweeps his thumb gently along the ridges of your hand before bringing it to his mouth in order to leave yet another kiss.

“There,” he murmurs, trailing his lips across the fibers. “All better.”

It’s the most beautiful and romantic thing you think anyone has ever done for you, and your heart lodges in your throat. “Harry?”

“Hm?”

“…do you hate me?”

Surprised, he instantly straightens up and leans back. “What?”

“Do you…do you hate me? Because of what I did? What I said?” You attempt to ward off the influx of impending tears, but you can already feel the first one slipping free. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

His expression immediately drops as he reaches up to grasp onto your face once more. Thumbs brushing quickly along your warm skin as you sniffle. “Cherry…I could never hate you. Ever.”

“But maybe you should,” you whisper. “I hurt you, and I lied to you, and…and I don’t deserve you—”

“Baby,” he breathes, surging forward to press his forehead to yours in an effort to silence you. “Don’t ever fucking say that again, do you hear me? I know exactly why you did it, and I could never be mad at you for that. I was only hurt because I didn’t want to lose you. But you were only trying to protect me. I know that.”

“I said I didn’t love you,” you nearly croak. “I said I loved him. After everything you’ve done for me—”

“You had to,” he interrupts, and his understanding only hurts more. “Cherry, you had to. It was the only way, and I know that. I knew it then, too. You’ve only ever tried to protect me, and I wasn’t letting you.”

You grab onto his wrists and vow to never let go.

“And it’s not fair that you were put in that position,” he continues. “It’s not fair that you were forced to make that call, and it’s not fair that I dragged you into this. You were expected to choose between somebody you’ve known your entire life and somebody you just met. That’s not fair, and I never should have made you—”

“It wasn’t a choice,” you hiccup. “It was never a choice. It was always you.”

Those pretty pink lips pull back into the softest grin you’ve ever seen. “You were trying to save me, sweet girl. I know that, and I will never, ever hate you. I love you.”

I love you. The three best words you could ever hear, and your first sob wracks from your chest as you fling your arms around his neck to kiss him.

He kisses you back, but it’s soft. And sweet. And meant to convey exactly how he truly feels. 

And it works because this is all you’ve ever wanted. Just him, and this moment, and those three words.

“Easy,” he warns through a strained breath. “Baby, careful—”

“Please,” is all you pant. “Harry, please, I can’t…I can’t wait any longer, please.”

And he nearly coos with amusement as he nuzzles his nose under your jaw in order to paint more kisses along your throat. “Can’t wait, hm? But what if I want to make this special?”

“It is. Is special—”

“Cherry,” he chuckles, “it’s all right. M’not going anywhere. We don’t have to rush, all right? S’been a long day and I don’t expect anything—”

“But I do,” you huff. “I’m ready, I want to. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

He laughs a little louder now, leaning back in order to see you. “I’m just trying to take care of you, sweet girl. We didn’t wait this long to throw it away because of him. I want this to be good for you. I want you to be sure that this is really what you want.”

And you appreciate the sentiment more than you’ll ever be able to explain. But right now, there is only one true way you want to spend the rest of this horrid day.

So, you lift your leg and hook it around his hip, pulling him back between your thighs with a pleading look.

In turn, he smirks, fingers returning to your chin with a playful squeeze. “Thought I was the insatiable one.”

“We’ll take turns,” you exhale before surging forward to kiss him again. Capturing his lips between your own and savoring the feeling you never thought you’d feel again.

And you can see his resolve crumble. Can see the way his eyes fall shut, the way his chest rises and falls beneath his dark shirt, the way his hands grasp onto your waist to keep you close.

He’s hungry. Ravenous. Losing the fight before it even begins, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Because now – now – he can have you. He can give you exactly what you want, can be exactly who he wants to be for you.

“Where do you wanna be, baby?” he asks through teasing nips to your neck. “The bed? The couch? D’you wanna go back to your apartment? Might feel more comfortable for you—”

“No, I don’t care,” you interrupt anxiously. “I don’t care, I just want you.”

He grins against your throat. “My greedy girl,” he murmurs, and your stomach flips. “Let’s go to the bed, yeah? Wanna lay you out and see you.”

And you want nothing more than to let him.

Regretfully, he pulls his lips from your skin and steps away, and you feel like you might die without him. But he’s quick to remedy this by taking your hand in order to help you hop down from the sink. Leading you out of the bathroom and through his apartment toward the bedroom.

His apartment isn’t what you expected. Although, truth be told, you didn’t know what to expect. It’s a bit bigger than yours, but there’s something…empty about it. Hollow, almost. The furniture is scarce, the colors and décor are few and far between. It doesn’t even look like anybody lives here, something he pointed out the moment you entered.

“Hardly spend any time here,” he’d said as you glanced around. “S’just a place to sleep, really. It’s never really felt like a home…until you walked through the door.”

And it was wildly cheesy, and perhaps a bit lame, but it was everything. 

His bedroom doesn’t seem to be any different as he leads you inside. The walls are a dark grey, and his bedding is a similarly dark shade. He’s got one chair and one dresser. It’s quite clean, all things considered. No clothes lying on the floor or towels slung over the closet door. 

It’s so very…Harry.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as your eyes flicker about the room. “Know it’s not very romantic.”

But you merely grin as you shake your head and grasp onto his hand. “Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You drag him toward the mattress before plopping down rather contently. “It’s so you. And I love that.”

And he only smiles before chasing after you and wrangling you into his arms.

It’s a faster dance from there. His hands and lips are everywhere they can reach. Slipping up the backs of your legs, ghosting over the curve of your hips, pulling at the zipper on your dress.

You merely settle in his embrace and allow him to take whatever he’d like. To touch and kiss each lingering thought away until all you know is him.

He’s careful but practiced. Treating you with the same adoration and gentle precision as he always has. And you’re so very thankful to feel so safe in his arms. A kind of security you weren’t sure you’d ever find in a partner the way you have him.

With anyone else you’ve ever been with, sex has always been transactional. A means to an end. This thing that you do to get off and nothing more. And despite your submissive preferences, there have been times when you truly felt powerless to your partner. Simply…there. Until they decided they no longer needed you.

But Harry…

He looks at you like your body is sacred. Like he’s undeserving of being so close to you. Of getting to touch you, hold you, feel you. Completely in-tune to every noise you make and every flutter of your lashes. Constantly on guard for your enjoyment and consent so he never goes any further than you want him to.

But you know, undoubtedly, that no matter how far he goes…it’ll never be enough.

You want his everything. His all. Anything he’s willing to offer, and you imagine you feel about as grateful as he looks to be here with him like this. To witness this kind of tender reverence.

He settles onto his back and pulls you on top. Placing you in a straddle over his waist until he can gaze up at you. “You okay, Cherry?”

You nod quickly – breathlessly – before resting your hands on his chest to brace yourself. “Just excited.”

His smile is boyish and charming, showcasing that familiar dimple that makes your cheeks warm. “Good. Want you to be.” He rubs soft circles into your hip before his brows furrow. “Y’know what I just realized?”

“Hm?”

“I still don’t know your name.”

And despite it all…you laugh. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

You smirk. “I still want to be your Cherry.”

He chuckles as he squeezes your sides and drags you closer. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs as you dip down to kiss him. “Always.”

With a soft smile, you trail your lips from his cheek to his ear, whispering the forbidden name almost timidly.

And to your surprise, he only grins wider. “That’s beautiful, sweet girl. S’perfect, too. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You feel the blood rush to your face as you bury your lips against his throat and gently tug at his skin. “Okay, all right.”

“I mean it,” he insists, palm slipping around the back of your neck to tug you back out. “Cherry, you’re beautiful. I don’t say it to say it. I look at you…and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

And maybe they are just words. Maybe they’re meant to make your insides twist and make your heart swoon. To be romantic and suave.

But you believe him. Because you can see in his eye just how much he means it. Can feel it in your stomach that he’s never been as honest as he is right now.

Further proving that everything in your life…has led you to him. Every decision, every regret, every mistake. It brought you right here, to this moment, in his arms. 

You don’t waste any time on replies or longing looks. You kiss him, and you resume this frantic dance, and you beg him to make things better. To ease this ache in your stomach as well as your heart.

So, he does.

Nimble fingers pull at the zipper along your side, loosening your uniform until he can guide it up and over your head. Only stopping once to whisper, “S’this okay, baby? Can I see you?”

You nod almost impatiently. “Yes, yeah. Whatever you want, promise.”

“Hm. Careful what you wish for, sweet girl,” he hums warningly. “Or I might just take you up on that.”

The moment your frame is revealed to him, he nearly groans. Allowing his hands to smooth up and down your shivering silhouette as you anxiously wait for more.

However, instead of allowing him the time to indulge in your body, you begin to tug at his sweatshirt. Silently requesting he reveal himself to you, too.

He smirks. “All right, hold on.”

He barely has a chance to sit up before you’re reaching for his hem in a desperate attempt to remove it. Making him chuckle as he grabs onto his collar before swiftly pulling it over his head. 

And you nearly sigh. Because he’s so ethereal to look at. Every ridge, and tattoo, and scar. The way he breathes, the way he flexes. You can’t help but reach for him, skimming your fingers down the dips and curves of his toned chest and stomach almost reverently as a breath catches in your throat.

And he lets you. Studying you closely while you study your hand. A moment of silence passing before he mumbles, “Baby?”

“Hm?”

He reaches up to tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. “M’gonna have to stretch you a bit before we start, okay? Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” you answer almost too quickly. “That’s fine. I’m not worried.”

He seems amused. “I know you’re not, but I am. You know I’d never want to hurt you. And I just want to make sure we go at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

There’s an odd sort of fluttering in your chest as you scoot closer and slip your fingers into the curls on his neck. Stroking his roots in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m okay with any pace as long as it’s you.”

“Promise?”

You nudge your nose against his. “Promise.”

Finally, he seems satisfied. “Okay, sweet girl. Then can you lay down for me?”

You’re on your back before he can even finish the question, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his and drag him along with you.

“Cherry,” he laughs again, and the sound is like music. An orchestra of joy and infatuation that you can feel all the way down in your toes. “Can’t be that greedy, can you?”

“I can,” you pant, hips bucking up as he reaches for the silk around your waist. “Just please…”

“Please,” he repeats thoughtfully, pulling his focus to the material he’s slipping down your legs. “You really are my sweet girl, hm?”

Another nod. “Mhm.”

“Guess I have made you wait, yeah?” He discards of the delicate panties before smoothing his palm up the inside of your thigh. “Made you sit and be good?”

“Harry…”

“And you have been,” he muses, ignoring your mewling. “Been so good for me. Think I need to show you how proud I am. And apologize for being so mean to you. For making you go so long without.”

He moves to settle between your parted legs, one hand beside your head to brace himself while the other travels down the expanse of your stomach. Calming the trembling skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he reaches what he’s looking for.

He looks at your face first. Examines your expression and the flutter of your lashes. Stilling just long enough to listen to you breathe. “It’s okay, Cher. I’ve got you.”

You run your fingers through his hair and smile. “I know.”

His thumb is the first thing that finds you. Ghosting gently over your clit and down in order to prepare you. Ease you into the sensation.

You take in a satisfied inhale that melts into a whimper and he grins.

Pushing through your folds, he slows when he finds your arousal. Glancing down to see it for himself. “So warm, baby. Missed this.”

“Missed you,” you nearly whine, and he seems pleased.

The tip of his digit pushes in just far enough to tease you but not enough to satiate you. Leaving a rather hollow feeling in your stomach the moment he pulls back out.

You just about slump into the mattress. “Harry…”

“M’just trying to be gentle,” he says. “And I wanna take my time. Wanna really feel you. Remember this moment.”

Your heart swells. “How oddly sentimental of you.”

He shrugs before pushing the finger back inside. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

Your back instantly arches from the bed when he reaches his knuckle. And the gratified look he wears seems to worsen this untamable ache.

“There you go,” he coos. “See? One’s not so bad.”

His pace is slow to begin. Torturous in a sense, but he knows that. He wants to work you up, make you squirm. Have your pleas falling from your tongue like water from the sky.

And of course it works, it always does. You weren’t sure what else you expected, but as he continues this steady rhythm, you feel your sanity slowly begin to come undone until you only have one choice.

“Harry…Harry, please, can’t…can’t—”

“What, sweet girl? Need more?”

Your head quickly motions up and down. “Please…”

“All right.” He pulls back before going again, this time with a stretch a bit more prominent. “Know you can handle two, yeah?”

And he’s right, you can, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t nearly ruin you to do so. Because while two is decidedly much better than one, it’s still not nearly enough. And more importantly, it’s not the one thing you really need.

You pull harder on his hair while you writhe beneath him. Eyelids growing heavy as the sound of his fingers driving into your pussy grows louder. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” He dips down and trails his lips along your cheek. “Gotta let me do this, baby. Just a bit longer, yeah?”

“Can’t…can’t wait—”

“Yes, you can.” His tone is firm but kind. Encouraging. “Know you can. Let me make you feel good.”

He begins to go faster. Thrusting into your cunt until your pulse is racing at about the same speed. 

And he’s beautiful. He’s so goddamn beautiful, it makes you dizzy. Hovered over you on the bed, muscles flexing with each roll of his arm. There’s a soft glow behind his head from the light of his window, illuminating his curls like a halo.

It’s rather fitting, you realize. After all, he is your guardian angel.

“Breathe,” he instructs, kissing down the curve of your throat before finding your chest. “Almost done, yeah? Doing so good for me, look so pretty taking my fingers. Know you’re gonna be so beautiful taking my cock, hm?”

Again, he dangles the image right in front of you, only to take it away before it can fully render. “Har—”

“Shh,” he says again, mouthing at the swell of your breast that’s being pushed up out of your bra. “Gonna give you another. Want you to be still for me, okay?”

With a rather disappointed huff, you oblige, watching as he scoots back just far enough to get a better visual.

Three fingers brings you to the gates of heaven. As does that look in his eye when he sees the way your pussy stretches around the larger digits. 

You can quite literally see the groan leave his body as he stares at you, lips parting in mesmerized bliss.

“You okay?” he manages to ask through a strained exhale.

“Yes,” you pant. “Can take more, I promise.”

“More, hm?”

“Yes…yes, please…”

He only hums.

Seconds go by before you’re gasping for air. Nails scraping down his scalp in desperation as he works you open. He’s incredibly focused, proud of the work he’s doing, and of the way your body bends to his will.

“There we go,” he praises softly. “Just like that. So fucking wet, sweet girl. Know it must ache.”

“It does…it does, Harry, please—”

“Got an itch you can’t scratch, yeah? Need me to reach it for you. Need me to fix it.”

“Please…”

“Almost, baby, almost.” 

You feel the fourth begin to push in and you suck in a sharp breath.

He stops. “It’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly. “Gonna take me like a good girl. Already doing so good, just a little more. Relax for me.”

You do your best to obey, allowing your limbs to fall limp beside you, despite the tightening of the coil in your stomach.

Even still, it works just enough to allow him more room. Slipping in the added digit until you see stars.

The pumping is loud and driven. Truly an exercise in restraint – for both of you – as the pace begins to quicken and the noises begin to increase.

Then, he brings his other hand into play, and brushes his thumb over your clit.

And you don’t mean to – you didn’t even realize you were so close – but you cum suddenly and with a rather lewd moan that makes his eyelids flutter.

“There,” he whispers, as though entranced. “There we go, good fucking girl.”

You can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs as you come down. And Harry chooses not to help as he finally removes both hands…and begins to pull you apart.

He exposes your clit to the colder air in order to dip down and ghost his mouth across the top. Releasing a warmer breath that sends chills straight down to your toes, making you squirm rather violently.

“Har…Har—” you gasp, fisting the blanket below. “Please, can’t…can’t—”

“Just wanna look at it,” he says simply. “S’so pretty—”

“Harry,” you whimper, writhing beneath his hold. “Harry, this is mean.”

“Mean, hm?” He smirks now and you want to die. “Well, I don’t wanna be mean, baby. Wanna be good for you, just like you are for me.”

You choose to take this as a sign to continue, sitting up just enough to reach for his belt and begin to tug it undone.

He laughs now, glancing down at your frantic fumbling with a knowing grin. “Cherry—”

“No,” you huff. “No, it’s my turn.”

To your surprise, he only hums. “Go ahead, then.”

You do, yanking the belt through each loop before tossing it aside and moving for his zipper. You don’t imagine you’ve ever worked so fast or so hard for something (specifically a cock) in your life.

The moment he’s able to wrangle his dark jeans down his legs, you’re dragging him back down. Ignoring his protests and his reminder that he still has one article of clothing left.

Instead, you work on ridding yourself of your own, unhooking your bra and tossing it into the same pile as his boxers.

And now, as you both settle into your nakedness together, every imperfection on display, you realize you’ve never been more content. Because baring your heart to him was far more vulnerable than baring your skin.

And because this is where you were always meant to be.

“Okay, baby, m’gonna start slow,” he repeats yet again, and you nod. “Just tell me if you want me to stop or slow down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nearly whine. “I will, I swear.”

“Good. And…shit, a condom, do you…do you have a preference—”

“Pill,” you pant. “I’m on the pill, just go.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes, please. I need to feel you, Harry, please…please.”

“Okay, all right.” He takes hold of your hips and positions you where he wants you before settling between your thighs. “Deep breath, okay? Just keep your eyes on me, I’ve got you.”

Another nod – quicker, more frenzied.

He takes hold of his cock and your eyes nearly roll back. It looks so beautiful in his hand. Just as stunning as you remember, and even though you never imagined you’d find one so appealing, your mouth seems to water.

Your leg hooks around his hip, subtly urging him closer, and he obliges. Giving himself a tug or two before gently trailing the tip down your aching cunt.

He moves up and down to collect a bit of your arousal before he finds your hole and slowly begins to push inside. Sinking in about half an inch before checking with you.

You nearly scream. “It’s okay. It’s okay, keep going.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes.”

His mouth curls up into a knowing grin as he continues. Allowing his cock to slip even further into your waiting pussy while your walls slowly stretch open to accommodate him.

And you’re hardly afforded the chance to enjoy this newer sensation before he suddenly dips down to kiss you. Perhaps an attempt at distraction, although it’s hardly needed. Because now you aren’t sure what to focus on, what feeling to indulge in. From his lips, to his cock, to the way your stomach nearly caves in on itself. 

“Fucking shit, baby,” he groans against your tongue. “Shit, you’re so tight…feels so good—”

“I know,” you agree. “God, please don’t stop—”

“No. Never.” He sinks in a bit further and you dig your teeth into his bottom lip. “M’almost there, you still all right?”

“Yes…yeah, I’m perfect. Perfect, promise—”

“That’s my girl,” he nearly seethes before he suddenly drives forward, sheathing himself all the way.

You both still the moment he’s fully inside, his face now disappearing into your shoulder as though to brace himself.

And you wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt not to let go. Allowing your body the time it needs to understand this new intrusion and find pleasure with it.

When it finally happens, the stars align.

“Okay,” you pant, gently scratching at his back to garner his attention. “Okay, go.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Need more, Har, please.”

He pulls his hips back and the whimper you release is almost feral. But it seems to do wonders for him, because his expression twists into something desperate, and you feel your chest implode.

He settles into a soft, slow pace. In and out, in and out, in synchronicity with your eager pants for more.

And there’s too much happening all at once. Too much to watch, too much to take pleasure in. 

The curls that drip down his forehead, the way his body looks as it connects with yours, the feel of his mouth going down your chest.

He’s everywhere all at once and somehow, it’s still not enough.

“Taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself. “Could taste you forever.”

He takes your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking at the pebbled skin before nipping at it gently.

You keen, arching from the bed until you nearly knock into him. “Har—”

He hums around your nipple, and you almost cry with frustration and pleasure.

Everything feels slow. Almost too slow but there’s something tender there. He’s not trying to fuck you, he’s trying to feel you. To mold your body to his and it’s rather effective. Because the way you crave him feels like heaven and hell all in the same second. 

“Harry,” you whisper, practically deranged as you drag your hands down his chest. Nails tracing patterns down the tattoos across his abdomen. “Please…”

The noise he makes in response to your scratching is almost animalistic in nature, and you nearly flinch as you quickly lower your arms. Upset to have caused him any pain.

“No,” he groans, lifting up to nudge his nose under your jaw. “No, don’t stop. Keep going.”

“What?”

“Keep…shit—” His rhythm falters and you can almost feel the way his dick seems to twitch. “Keep going, s’okay. Want you to scratch me. Want you to hurt me, baby.”

And somehow, this reminder of his pain kink feels almost like a blessing. “Yeah?”

He nods faintly before attempting to resume his pace, and you happily take the lead.

Your fingers hesitantly return to his broad torso. Delicately tracing the muscles as they roll beneath your touch until you gingerly begin to press in. The sharp edge of your nails dancing across the expanse of his already torn skin.

In turn, he releases a strained noise that becomes lost beneath the grateful kisses to your collarbone. And you realize how much he truly enjoys it.

He gives you complete control of his body, of his pleasure. Because the harder you scratch at his scars, the more urgent his thrusts become. Until the sounds echoing around the room begin to echo between your ears. And the slapping of his hips into yours is inescapable.

“Feels so good, Har,” you nearly cry, lifting up just enough to kiss him quickly. “You’re so good to me. Always.”

“Shit.” His eyes about roll back before there’s a sharp snap of his cock into your eager cunt. “Always gonna take care of you. Promise—”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know, I love you.”

You say it now, and suddenly, everything changes.

It doesn’t matter if he’s heard you say it before or if he already knows because the look in his eye nearly guts you. 

He’s so…happy. So incredibly happy and endlessly enchanted that he begins to grin. “You love me,” he repeats. Not a question.

You smile as well, and the sentiment seems to explode out of you. “I love you.”

And it’s perfect, this moment. This connection of two bodies and two souls into one. The way you stumbled through the dark until you found each other, and it makes sense. Everything makes sense now with him. Clarity in the truest form.

“I love you,” he echoes, and he means it. You can feel it in every thrust, every syllable, every brush of his lips against yours. “I fucking love you, Cherry—”

“Please,” you gasp, leg dropping to the bed while your arms follow suit. “Har, please—”

“Gonna cum for me again?” He begins to go faster, chasing after your orgasm. “Let me feel you around my cock, sweet girl, come on. Already feel so good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Can’t what, hm? Can’t hold it?” It’s almost sadistic the way he speaks, but you know he’s merely enamored. “I know. I know, it’s okay. You can cum for me, don’t have to wait. Promise I won’t be mad.”

You aren’t sure what you’re about to do, all you know is that you never want this feeling to end. This moment, this security. You just want to touch him, and look at him, and taste him for the rest of your life. 

He interrupts your silence as a request for something more, and he offers it in the form of his dominance.

He takes hold of your wrist and hoists it above your head, pinning it to the mattress before settling his weight atop your chest. Trapping you beneath him until you have no other choice but to indulge in everything he has to give.

And you do.

“Sweet little cunt is all mine, isn’t it?” he purrs, teeth nipping below your ear as his fingers intertwine with yours. Holding your hand as he keeps it caged to the bed. “Spent all this time just waiting for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes…yes, fuck, Harry—”

“You were so patient. So good.” He’s growing more determined – sloppy – and your head begins to spin. “God, but you just needed me, yeah? Needed me to make it better—”

“Better,” you repeat almost mindlessly.

“Needed me to erase him—”

“Please—”

“Leave my mark. My fucking mark—”

“Harry—”

“You were never his,” he grits, and you aren’t sure who he’s really trying to convince. “You were never fucking his, you were always mine. And he knew it—”

“Shit, I can’t…can’t—"

His other thumb moves for your clit and you feel tears fill your eyes. “Yes, you can. Know you can, baby, and you will. Always do so good for me, gonna take my cum, aren’t you—”

There’s a strain on your muscles from the way they’re being stretched above your head, but you realize there’s something satisfying about the subtle pull. And when it’s coupled with a firm pinch of the sensitive nerves between the rough pads of his fingers, you start to lose it.

“There – shit – there you go,” he inhales, glancing over your face before watching the way his cock slips in and out of your pussy. Dripping in your arousal and smearing across your thighs. “Take me, just like that. Feels so fucking good, sweet girl, keep going…keep—”

You cry out and writhe helplessly beneath him. Pulling your arms from out of his hold in order to sling them around his neck and cement yourself to his chest.

And you have no choice but to succumb to the pleasure before you feel him follow.

“Fuck—” He surges forward, burying himself in you completely, moans melting into your feverish skin as you cling to each other. “Shit…I love you. I really fucking love you, Cherry.”

You smile lazily before bringing his mouth to yours. “I love you, too.”

He kisses you. All through the moment and then some. Until the sun has disappeared and the moon has been hung between the stars.

And you know that you have never been happier than you are in this moment, right now.

Just you, and him, and a pussy full of cum.

“Darling, we've got some at table six, could you go check on ‘em?”

With a quick nod of your head, you readjust your apron, and grab the notepad Owen is sliding toward you before slipping from the kitchen. 

You find the eager customers waiting just beside the counter and take their order with a charming grin and a promise to slip them some leftover pie.

The diner isn’t too busy tonight, and you’re grateful. Now that you’re on dessert duty, you spend a majority of your shifts working on new recipes and finalizing the specials for the coming week.

Truth be told, you rather enjoy this new task. It keeps your mind occupied and your thoughts from drifting.

And baking is your happy place. Your sense of calm amidst a sea of uncertainty, almost rivaling your own true source of serenity.

Harry.

Once you’ve returned to the kitchen, you sneak a glance at the clock. 12:06 A.M. He should be here soon. Probably tired. Perhaps a bit stressed. Hopefully no worse for wear than usual.

Fight nights always tend to leave you on edge. You know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, but you can’t help but worry. It’s what you do best.

Still, you’re happy for him. Because while pies are your happy place, the boxing ring is his. He’s only ever wanted to fight – to make money, channel his anger into something good. And perhaps it’s not a sustainable lifestyle, but for right now, it’s what he wants to do.

And you respect his choice. You’ll respect any choice he makes, as long as he’s the one making it. Instead of it being made for him.

Besides, without Jesse there, you find that Harry tends to have a lot more fun. He leaves the fights with a busted lip but a bright smile, and it makes your heart swell until it feels as though there’s no more room in your chest.

Last you heard, Jesse left town. Harry refused to tell you what really went down at the club once the other members found out, but you decided that was probably for the best. No matter what fond memories you still have of your childhood friend, he’s not who he used to be. And you won’t ever be able to change that.

But for the first time in a long time…you’re okay with that.

The clock continues to tick the seconds away, and with each passing one, you grow a tad more anxious. Your guardian angel is late. At least by a few minutes, and you scurry about the diner as your thoughts race about a mile a moment.

And then, just as you’re readjusting the cake stands and tidying up the dessert display, you see it.

Your not-so-strange stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in that familiar, white gauze, and are stained with streaks of red.

But he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

And you grin wider than you have all day.

“Hi, Cherry,” he calls the moment his head lifts, allowing you a better look at his stunningly damaged face as you scurry closer. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you nearly giggle, slipping off your apron before sliding into the seat across from him. “How was it?”

“Easy,” he snorts, but there’s a sparkle in his eye. “And I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“M’off for the next few days. Thought you could come over…and not leave.”

You laugh as you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Good.” He glances down at your interlocked fingers almost fondly. “Hey, you know what I just realized?”

“What?”

Now, a mischievous expression begins to form. “I never introduced myself.”

And for some reason…you can’t help but laugh.

“So,” he begins, rather charmingly as he raises your hand in order to shake it formally, “hi.”

And you really fucking love him.

“I’m Harry Styles.”

I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE AT THE END!! This has been such a fun story, and SUCH a wild ride that I feel very lucky to have gotten to take with so many incredibly wonderful people!!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along and left the nicest comments or notes!! I cannot tell you what it means to me!!

Harry and Cherry will def be back for extras soon, but until then...I love you 🥹♥️ Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Previous Part:

~ Uppercut*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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[targaryenluvs]

we can send in ideas you say 👀 dark! Cory with a reader who’s not so inclined to behave and listen to him, being bratty, turning him away, embarrassing him in public ….. his frail ego would shatter (and who knows what he’d do to her 🫣🫣)

TEMPER TANTRUM

pairing: president!coriolanus snow x fem!bratty!reader

summary: you were the daughter of one of the richest couples of panem. everything you’ve ever wanted, handed to you. coriolanus had a short temper and you were stubborn. who knows what could happen?

warnings: arguments, bratty reader, public scenes, punishments, kinda smutty, fingering, not proof read i’m lazy

a/n: stand up and fight back to that rude bitch babe

they’d messed up your order. again.

you’d ordered three dresses, all pink and one was too small. you’d already returned it multiple times but apparently the shop owner was incompetent. did he know who you were? the first lady of panem deserved nothing but the best and this imbecile couldn’t even do his job.

you’d give him another chance you figured. “soreen!” you shouted out as you heard the pitter patter of footsteps on the floor. “yes mrs snow?” you sighed, “pull the car around please. we’re going down to the genevieve store.” she nodded before scurrying away to arrange your mode of transportation.

the car ride was smooth, much to your relief. you needed at least one thing to go right today, and the car ride helped boost your morale as you pulled up in front of the aforementioned store. “here we are mrs snow.” your driver spoke as he promptly exited the vehicle to open your door, “thank you phillip.” he tipped his cap to you before shutting your door, “i’ll be waiting ma’am.”

the store was quite large, for someone who hadn’t been there before it was quite easy to lose your way. but you knew exactly where you were headed, walking a path of determination as you reached the front desk. a young lady, clearly disengaged from her job sat filing her nails at the desk. “what do you want?” your face twisted into a disingenuous smile, this was going to be fun, you thought. you cleared your throat as you placed your handbag down with care.

“mrs y/n snow, here for adina?” the girl looked close to tears as a string of apologies fell through her lips, “let me go get him, again, i cannot express my apologies mrs snow.” you’d already turned around to sit at one of the many chairs strewn about.

adina was frantic.

he sure as hell wasn’t expecting the first lady of panem, in his store, by herself. nonetheless, he quickly nodded along to her explanation of her dilemma, the dresses, the sizes, the unresponsive customer aid line.

you’d walked out of the store were five new dresses, all free of cost. a successful day in your eyes. the whisperings were there, of how the last store clerk who’d kept you waiting went out of business. or how the cook whose meal caused you to choke had his hand cut off. mistakes were made in the process of the workers bending over backwards to produce the upmost quality service for the presidents darling wife.

who was known for her own expensive tastes.

and god help anyone who kept her waiting.

the dress was for a charity event that night. coriolanus of course didn’t want to go, but it was seen as beneficial to his own cause to be seen out and about, especially at a high profile event. whereas you on the other hand? you’d ordered three new dresses, five now, two new pairs of heels and that jewellery set you’d been eyeing up for a while.

coriolanus wanted to get through the night, that was it. the office was as stressful as ever, his secretary was out sick, so a fill-in took her place, stuttering every time he spoke to her and messed up his meetings of the day. but since marrying you, coriolanus knew nothing was ever easy with you.

you prided yourself on your unpredictability. to keep people on their toes. you loved being able to stick out from the rest, keep people guessing. and most of all, you loved being seen, admired. you were never one to be tame, coriolanus knew it. you always tested his patience and temper.

but this?

you’d worn a burgundy gown, off the shoulder, floor length and a v-cut too low for his likes. the one dress out of five he’d disapproved of. you’d disobeyed him purposefully, coriolanus hoped you’d grow out of old habits, but again they die hard.

the eyes were on you like vultures, his wife.

he’d deal with you later, just get through the night.

“and that dress! it’s certainly, something.” you didn’t know the girls name, but her face seemed familiar. “why thank you! coriolanus had picked out some others but then again what do men know about women’s fashion?” the woman’s slack jaw caused you to giggle, “well aren’t you fiery! the president has a lot on his hands with you.”

you tossed your hair behind as you took a sip from your glass, “well i’m sure if he can handle a whole country,” you leaned in before whispering, “he can try his best to handle me.” coriolanus saw red. one night, without your antics was all he’d wished for. the dress and your behaviour had sent him over the edge.

“miss.” coriolanus acknowledged the woman as he grabbed a hold of your hand, “president snow! how nice it is to see you here, and your donation! how splendid.” coriolanus’s charm seemed to switch on instantaneously, “anything for the, good cause.” coriolanus couldn’t give a flying fuck about the cause let alone remember what it was. “it’s time for us to go.”

you had an image, pristine and clear. a lovely woman, kind and respectful. at times naive but overall a caring wife. your slick words, which charmed any man or woman, your striking beauty and sweet personality.

but at your core you, like your husband. couldn’t care less, it was one of the reasons you got along so well. it was all a facade and coriolanus was the only person who knew the real you. much to his chagrin, the real you was a total bitch. a smooth talker with a pretty face who got everything she wanted. you’d never wanted to marry him in the first place, so it seemed to be your personal mission to embarrass the poor man.

“if you’re tired then head on home love. i know you need your hours of sleep, cranky without them!” you made him sound like child without his favourite toy, unable to go on until he had it again. “sweetheart, you know we go home together. now come along.” his tone was nothing like the fake warmth it mimicked, you were on thin ice. “yes i know, honey, but you’re not incapable of returning home without me now are you? i’m sure the driver remembered the directions for you.” you pinched his cheek. pinched. his. cheek.

you may as well have started praying for your soul.

so he left, alone.

you had no clue as to why you wanted to stay. it’s not as if there was someone actually worthwhile to engage in conversation with, but you just wanted to be out of the house. you had to soak up your time outside while it lasted you assumed. coriolanus wouldn’t be letting you out anytime soon, especially after what you’d said that night.

the door slammed shut as you hung up your coat next to corio’s. you took a deep breath in before exhaling. it was going to be a long night.

“did you have fun?” corio was sat in a large, plush, arm chair, swirling a drink in his hand. you could only wonder how many he’d had in the hours by himself. “i did.” your voice was gentle, the house quiet in the dead of night. but the large mansion echoed, he would’ve heard you anyways.

“hm.” he feigned interest in your response. all he wanted was to put you in your place. “corio?” he turned to view you, whilst you walked over before situating yourself on his arm chair. but as soon as you did his glass clattered onto the side table as he rose up. “we’re going to bed.” you weren’t sure if he’d snap if you protested, your feet were aching and you found it best not to argue.

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy, which is how you ended up fully exposed whilst coriolanus was fully dressed. “please.” you’d been on your back for the last, ten? twenty? “please what?” coriolanus liked to put you in your place, it was one of his favourite things to do since you forgot it so often. “touch me.” his hand slipped into your panties, fingers sliding into your already soaking hole as you clutched onto his shoulders.

he’d been teasing you for what felt like forever and you felt you were finally done with it. “close your eyes.” he whispered as his fingers slid out, eliciting a whine from your throat, but you listened, closing your eyes, wondering what he’d do.

it’d been a minute since corio spoke and you were feeling restless. on one hand you could wait for him to speak up, allow you to open your eyes. on the other, you opened them to peek at what he was doing and he dragged out your punishment.

and to your right lay your husband, asleep. “corio!” you groaned out before shoving his shoulder, “you didn’t think i was going to fuck you tonight? after the shit you pulled? you have fingers, use them.” and coriolanus fell asleep soundly to your attempts to finish off without him.

now that, would teach you a lesson.

[natalievoncatte]

Kara is buzzed when it happens. Not drunk, buzzed. A little tipsy. Not lost in the sauce, more “in her cups”. It’s been a rough day of wordsmithing and crime fighting and game night has turned into an impromptu movie night because no one has enough energy to play anything. The Settles of Catan box is gathering dust next to the Pictionary stuff and the other random games that have accumulated at Lena’s apartment ever since they all realized that she has the best bachelorette pad for hosting these things.

Instead they’re watching Twister instead of playing Twister, laughing at how cheesy it is. The movie is almost over but the night is young and Kara is unwinding, so she asks Lena for a favor.

“Can you bring me some?” she says, spotting Lena pouring wine from a box that Kara brought over.

“Sure,” Lena says.

A moment later, Lena joins her.

This moment is inportant. Kara doesn’t know it yet but it’s one of the most important. One day she will rank it in importance with the day she first saved Lena and the first time she walked into Lena’s office and a number of other firsts.

Consider this: It is a warm May night and Lena has the windows open to let the breeze in. It’s maybe seventy in the penthouse and eventually it’ll get cooler. Right now, everyone is lazing about in knockaround clothes. Kara herself is in a pair of old threadbare sweats from the DEO that she kept even after the organization disbanded because they were so comfy, and the ribbed tank she had on under her outfit at work, baring her blocky and sun-tanned shoulders.

(This is because Lena once made a comment about her big meaty shoulders after they attended a spin class together. Kara never consciously said “I’m giving Lena two tickets to the gun show”, but she has her bis and tris on display around her whenever possible anyway. Kara had no reason to flex when she’s opening a bottle of wine -or a box with a screw cap- but she does it anyway. She doesn’t need to pick up Lena’s car… you get the idea.)

Lena, for her part, is dressed in mercilessly short shorts that bare her thick thighs, and she’s put on a sweatshirt. A gray sweatshirt that has the National City university logo on it, a school she did not attend, and is two sizes too big for her. She’s put her hair up in a sloppy ponytail and has taken out her contacts in favor of a pair of rather chunky-framed glasses. She looks like a dork.

A stunning, cute, adorable, huggable, kissable dork.

Lena brings with her two blue plastic tumblers of wine, and hands one to Kara.

The couch is packed. Alex and Nia flank Kara, and their respective partners fill out the sofa. Really, someone should have saved Lena a seat in her own house. She has one in mind, though. She sits right on Kara’s lap as she hands her the wine.

It could be any number of things that cause it. She’s tired, she spiked a few of her drinks with alien rum, it’s been a long and frustrating day and she’s just not thinking right. She doesn’t have her filters in. Words just spill out.

“Good girl,” Kara says, as Lena settles in place.

The reaction is subtle, but to a Kryptonian, obvious. Lena’s heart does a little pitter-patter and she tenses just slightly, just barely, so subtly that only Kara would notice. Her pupils widen and her breath catches sharply.

Alex, seated such that she’s behind Lena, snaps her gaze to them quickly.

Kara does the only thing she reasonably can do. She presses her legs gently to either side to make sure there’s enough room and lets Lena settle in with her. The couch is one of those huge custom jobs that cost more than Kara’s apartment and every stick of furniture in it, so there’s room for Lena to comfortable position herself and lean back into Kara, sipping a bit of wine.

Everyone is else is dead silent, the only sound coming from Lena’s massive TV and theater quality sound system (so there is in fact a lot of sound)

Lena is there and she’s warm and soft, the crown of her head in perfect range for a little sniff. With not much effort Kara could press her lips to Lena’s hairline and give her a little kiss.

She’d done that once. It was after a save, when Kara was holding Lena in her arms after catching a collapsing crane on her back, shrugging off a hundred tons of twisted metal to save her Lena. It was not long after Lena came back to her and things were still weird and fragile and Lex wanted her dead and Kara was so, so scared, so wracked with pain just from knowing what Lena meant to her. The only way she could stop herself from kissing Lena, proper kissing, was by pressing her lips somewhere safe and friendly and kinda a we’re friends kiss and not a I want to marry you please never leave me again kiss.

Lena drinks the wine so fast she gulps, and she’s either thirsty or trying to calm her nerves. There’s a palpable air in the room right now, a heavy tension that’s made them all suddenly stiff and uncomfortable. They pass the rest of the movie in silence.

“Who’s up for a double feature?” Kara says, not wanting to leave but not wanting to test the terms under which she might stay.

“Not me,” Alex says. “We’ve got to get home and pay Ruby for watching Esme. Besides, if we let you picky we’ll end up watching some damn cartoon.”

Nia wnd Brainy similarly demur, citing reasons of their own.

“Okay. I’ll stay and help clean up.”

“You don’t have to,” Lena says, tentatively.

“I don’t want to be a poor guest.”

The rest of the Superfriends pile out of the penthouse and into the night with mildly alarming speed, and Kara is suddenly alone with Lena. The vast penthouse doesn’t feel empty. Instead it feels close in, almost crowded.

Lena slips off of Kara’s lap and plops beside her, yawning. She sets down her empty wine cup and stretches, delightfully arching her back as she throws her arms back up over her head, fingers laced. Kara doesn’t need x-ray vision to see she’s bare beneath the sweatshirt. Her own heart does a little flutter.

She looks so soft, so cozy and inviting, but her legs are such a distraction that Kara can’t help but look at them, her gaze sweeping from ankle to hip with the intensity of an explorer who’s just crested a mountain and set eyes on a promised new land. That’s when Kara realizes that Lena saw her looking and is meeting her gaze firmly.

“Like what you see?”

Kara swallows hard. She can hear the drum of Lena’s own heart, almost feel the same quickening of her pulse as well as the slight waver in her voice.

Kara licks her lips.

“Should we clean up, or…”

“Should we? Or should it wait until morning?”

If Lena had been dropping hint before, she was laying down the gauntlet now. She looked at Kara with lidded eyes and a flushed, wine-silly grin.

Kara swallowed hard. A part of her, a very loud part, still insisted she misinterpreted all of this and Lena was just being friendly. What if she was just being friendly, what if-

“What would you rather do?” said Kara.

Lena shrugged. “I’m tired of thinking, Kara. People ask me what to do all damned day. I’d rather relax and just let someone else take charge for a while.”

The way she said it, especially take charge, was so heavy and drippy and velvety that Kara could get lost in it.

Fuck it.

Kara twisted and, carefully, very carefully, lifted Lena into her lap. Lena made sure to not sit but straddle, her warm thighs bracketing Kara’s as she settled her weight in Kara’s lap and fell against her chest.

Very, very tenderly, with supreme care, Kara pressed her hand to the back of Lena’s head, slipping her fingers into Lena’s hair, and guided her in. She savored every second. The ghost of breath on her lips, the sight of Lena’s blown pupils before she closed her eyes, the feeling of Lena’s fingers digging into her shoulders as their lips met. Lena kissed her softly at first, then more and more greedily, exploding from a gently pressing of lips into something undeniably needy and hot. When Lena moaned into her mouth, Kara’s nerves lit up like a Christmas tree and she instincts grabbed Lena’s hips and and grinds herself up against her.

“Lena,” Kara whispered, “is that my sweatshirt?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Take it off,” said Kara, and then a moment later, “good girl.”

[ms-demeanor]

While I was out of town my boss pretty clearly got in a fight with one of my coworkers about overtime and billable hours and that has led to him being a petty little pissbaby about "complying with california law" by having us fill out time sheets because boss was utterly incapable of finding the middle ground between "you must track every second of your time in order to be paid for it" and "the technicians who make $60k a year are salaried and therefore are not entitled to overtime."

"Salaried employees can be non-exempt and therefore earn overtime if working for more than 8 hours a day but also are in a position where they can be trusted to take a few extra minutes at lunch or may stay after closing time occasionally without requiring overtime" doesn't seem like a very fine needle to thread but he is absolutely incapable of threading it.

For *years and years* now he has used himself as an example of the right way to be "on time." He's told us about going to his job as a kid and getting there five minutes early every day just to prove to his boss that he really wanted the work.

Anyway, I just got a lecture on how I'm not supposed to clock in even a minute before my start time, nor am I to cut my lunch short, nor am I to stay late to finish things up; he wants me in here for eight hours a day *exactly* and is now so hell-bent on micromanaging everyone's start and end times that he was late to a client meeting earlier because he was looking over time sheets.

Sir, you have played stupid games and you have won stupid prizes. You should have just paid the techs their fucking overtime.

He's being so petulant about this and it's so fucking funny. None of us feel bad for you bro. You are wage theft georg and the spiders have come home to roost. It is very much worth the potential few dollars of time I'll lose each week to see you tie yourself up in knots about whether I stayed two minutes late on wednesday to answer a customer's question.

[unstable-samurai]

Love is Intention (pt.1)

Male Reader x Sana

word count: 7.5K

tags: possessive girl, angst, obsession, passionate fan, psychopathy, love sex, blowjob, penetration, tease, stalker, sexual fantasy, mature male reader, dom girl...

Everything started on a rainy Friday. It was the damn book launch, your return after 8 cursed years without publishing anything. Your hands were as cold as a corpse. It was a trauma. Ever since the first time you had to put your face out there to promote your work, no one showed up. It was humiliating. People walked into the bookstore at the mall and saw you sitting alone at a table with two stacks of untouched copies of your book. You stayed there for four hours, and when someone finally seemed to come over, it was just a regular customer asking where the hell the Stephen King bookshelf was. And you can bet he had a shelf dedicated just to him, he was a genre unto himself.

But, well, does that really matter now?

This terrible experience didn't stop you from becoming a best-seller, anyway. Starting from the third book signing session, people were lining up just to get your autograph and shake your hand (the selfie craze wasn't popular yet). You didn't get an exclusive shelf with your name like King, but your books were next to those of great writers like Ernest Hemingway and J.D. Salinger and even contemporary geniuses like Chuck Palahniuk. Good enough for you.

There were 5 consecutive knockouts! Each book released broke the record of the previous one. In a span of 10 years, you reached your literary stardom, and, look at that, even Stephen King read and praised one of your books (the second one, where the schizophrenic protagonist believes she killed her own husband in a fight and now must decide whether to turn herself in to the authorities or get rid of the body. Plot twist: it was the husband who killed the wife. Good surrealist shit.)

Then you never published anything again.

Problems arose and your creativity seemed to vanish, along with your desire to write. The divorce, the alcoholism, the insomnia... depression, perhaps? All of this exploded in your face at once, leading you into a self-destructive spiral that seemed endless. You almost didn’t recover from it. Well, you were still recovering, truth be told. One day at a time and all that. And, well, a new book was yet another step towards a normal and stable life again. God and the devil knew how difficult it was for you to find the strength to write again. Your new book was just a collection of short stories, but we all need to start over from somewhere, right?

And what if no one shows up?

That damn thought wouldn’t leave your mind. 8 years… it’s enough time to forget an author. How many new ones must have appeared and become best-sellers by now?

“Don’t be so nervous. It’s still early. People will show up,” said Jessie, the assistant hired by your literary agent. He was unable to attend the occasion as his wife was in labor.

“Yeah… You’re right.”

“I know thinking is kind of your job, but don’t overdo it. Come on, have some coffee.” She handed you a cup; it was very hot, helping to warm your cold, lifeless hands. Jessie continued:

“Twitter got pretty excited when the publisher announced your book’s release. It must be the rain messing things up around here.”

She was a good girl. She knew how to read people, and she also knew you needed a bit of encouragement.

"The latest news about me was about my divorce and my problems with alcohol. I'm happy to still have a bit of credibility."

"An author only loses credibility if they publish a bad book and then another one right after. You could have committed a homicide and people would still be excited for a book of yours. That whole thing about separating the author from the work, you know what I mean? Literature is a world apart."

What she said was quite accurate in your view, fortunately or unfortunately. You noticed that she was very smart for a woman of just 20 years old.

"Did you know that I published my first book when I was your age?"

"Yeah, I know! You took over the literary scene in that decade. 'Young Writer Applauded at Festival and Becomes the Newest Best-Seller of the Year.' I read that old article when I found out I was going to work with you. You were really a phenomenon. And not to take away from your art, but that handsome face of yours helped to win over some fans."

You just lowered your head and laughed timidly.

"I guess now I can't count on my young face anymore."

"'Dilfs' are the trend now, sir!"

"And what the hell is that?" you asked curiously.

Suddenly, four people entered the bookstore together. They smiled upon seeing you, and you instantly knew they had come for the autograph session. Then two more people entered. They waved at you, and you felt the nervousness take over your body again, but this time for a good reason: people kept coming in. And there were still 20 minutes left before the book launch was to begin.

You had forgotten how special a book launch could be. Unfortunately, the mark left by the first event made you forget the good part of it. But from now on, you would strive to remember only how it was a warm and memorable occasion; being a relatively private event, you were practically surrounded only by people who truly appreciated your art and you as a person.

You had just finished the author's reading part. The first 20 pages of the first story seemed to please the audience, and the applause at the end of the reading was a relief for you. When was the last time you were given a standing ovation? A long time ago, obviously. It was time for questions, Jessie had warned you in advance that there were 3 journalists among the 61 readers present. The journalists were not wearing identification badges, so they were mixed in with the public, which included booktubers, superfans, and key influencers in the literary market. Perhaps with the idea of getting a 'pure' response from you to then publish in the media. So you should be prepared to get a good headline.

"Alright, hmm, I think now is the time for questions..." you announced to the audience, somewhat nervous.

Many people raised their hands. You chose the bearded bald man with glasses.

He stood up and asked:

“We know that there was a long gap between your last book and this new one. Has your writing changed during this time? Can we expect a more mature version of you in terms of your approach to delicate events that are the highlight of your writing?”

“Great question, thank you! Well, I have always approached these themes as an ordinary man. I am not a psychologist to make a clinical and scientific approach to certain things that my characters decide to do in the story. I have always valued accessible communication with the general public. Pain and feelings are universal, and the way we deal with them tends to be different, varying from person to person. Unconsciously, my writing has matured, a result of time, I believe, but I still follow the same approach that brought me here.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the bald man. He then pressed a button on his iPhone, which he had held up the entire time you were speaking.

You glanced slightly to the side, and Jessie winked at you. Your intuition was right about him being one of the journalists.

"Next question."

You chose a young Black girl wearing a beige overcoat.

"Hello! I just want to say that I'm happy to be here! My name is Carol, and I'm a big fan of yours! Hmm, ah, my question! Let me see... According to the synopsis and now the first pages of the story you read, it seems that each story, although different from one another, is connected by a central theme, which is the lack of connection with today's society. I wanted to know, how did you come up with these characters? Are they portrayals of current people, or are they mere fictional figures trapped in the past?"

"That's an excellent question too. Thank you, Carol. So, in the last few years when I wasn't writing, I wandered around a lot of places. I was a bit lost, to be honest, but one good thing about that difficult phase was having the opportunity to talk to all kinds of different people. Poor and rich. Everyone had something to say about the world, as well as their own problems with it. All I can say is that I didn't draw inspiration from any real person to create the characters, but rather from the experiences I accumulated during the good conversations I had with various people of different races, ages, and genders. Despite this, it's easy to recall someone familiar who has a story similar to Milly, the protagonist of the first story in the book, for example. My characters are almost always ordinary people."

"Thank you for answering!"

“You're welcome. Next question.” You paused briefly to drink some water, then continued, choosing a young woman sitting at the far right end of the last row of chairs, where the light from the lamp didn’t reach as well.

“Hello! Good evening, everyone! My name is Sana, I’m a big fan of your art and I’m happy about your return,” she said, quite excited.

You were startled when she stood up and you could see her better. Your heart suddenly raced. It was a strange sight. The girl, Sana, was wearing a long white dress with some flower prints.

Your ex-wife had a very similar dress. Quite a coincidence. So, you hid your look of astonishment and said:

“Thank you, Sana. You can ask your question.”

“I would like to know if your return is definitive. Are there more drafts stored or ideas for future projects? I read on the internet about a leak that revealed you were writing a script for a mini-series on a streaming service. Does this mean you are now dedicated to writing without long breaks?”

“I can't comment on this supposed leak. And I can't guarantee that my return won’t have more long breaks, but I am making an effort to maintain a healthy pace for myself and that also allows me to produce good works without delays.”

“Your long pause was due to external problems like the divorce and your alcohol dependency. Now that you’re rehabilitated, what are the chances of you returning to your old publication window of every two years?”

“Excuse me!” Jessie intervened. “I’d like to remind everyone that this event is dedicated to the book, not the author’s personal life. So, let’s keep the questions focused on the fiction, please.”

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to be intrusive,” Sana explained, smiling. “I’m just another fan who is immensely happy about the return of the favorite author, and who hopes to continue reading many of his books.”

"It's okay. As I said before, I can't guarantee anything. I hate unfounded promises like anyone else. I appreciate your kindness, Sana. I will strive to continue publishing frequently."

She smiled at you, satisfied with your response.

For the next question, you chose a gray-haired woman who seemed quite intellectual.

"There are rumors that your first book will be adapted into a movie. Can you tell us a little about that? And regardless of whether it's true or not, how would you feel about seeing your work being transferred to another medium, like with a new vision and maybe without your creative control?"

"We are in negotiations at the moment. I can't say more than that. Well, I wouldn't mind seeing someone else putting their vision into my stories; it would be something different, you know? Another work, not necessarily mine. I find it interesting and I am always open to film adaptations."

You continued for about 30 minutes. This stuff was quite tiring and after a while, it seemed to lose its purpose, but you kept smiling until the end.

Now all that was left was to sign the books. Each reader got your autograph and a copy of your new book. Everyone praised you and practically 90% of the audience took a selfie with you.

There were only 5 people left to finish the autographs when it was that girl's turn.

"Hello!" she said, extending her hand to greet you. You shook her hand. It was small and soft, like a porcelain doll's hand. "I was quite anxious for this."

"I hope I didn't make you wait too long. Lines can be quite unbearable."

"It's all right, I've learned to be patient.”

You noticed that she was staring at you. For a fan, she was not shy at all. She was beautiful too. Very beautiful. You would probably be falling in love with Sana if you were the same age as her and were the type of writer who gets dazzled by any special attention from a pretty girl.

“Sana, right? Well, I’ll sign your book now.”

You picked up a copy and signed it.

“‘To Sana, a special fan. May these pages entertain you and perhaps mean something to you in the end.’” You finished with your signature. “Here. Thank you for coming.”

“Oh my God! You don’t know how happy I am! Can I ask you to sign another book of yours? It's my favorite!”

She took the book out of her bag and handed it to you, then you signed it with quick precision.

“You’re so sweet! Oh, could you tell me how long you will be in the city? And sorry if I'm being too nosy..."

“I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, what a shame. You don’t know how special this evening has been for me.” Sana sighed. “I just wish I had more time to talk to you.”

“Hey, girl!” exclaimed the woman in line behind Sana. “You’ve been talking to him for about 5 minutes! There are more people wanting to get an autograph, you know?!”

Sana didn’t reply but shot a cold, empty look at the woman that made her nervous.

“It was really a dream to meet you in person.” She placed her hand on yours. Slowly, she said, “Maybe we’ll meet again sometime, won’t we?”

You gave a soft laugh and replied:

“Yeah, I’d love that.” You smiled formally at her. “Have a good night, Sana.”

“You too.” She said in a voice a little too sweet for your taste.

"The night was amazing!" said Jessie cheerfully. The two of you were eating at a diner after the book launch had ended. "You answered all the questions really well. Especially the ones from the journalists."

"Thank you. I did my best."

"When it becomes a bestseller, and it will, obviously, we'll organize a new book signing session, this time a lecture. Your arm will get tired from signing so many books!"

"I'm very grateful for all your help, Jessie."

"It's just my job. Besides, actually, I should be grateful to you for employing me. I had some bills to pay that were keeping me up at night."

"But it was my literary agent who hired you."

"Yes, he needed an assistant for one of his writers, and here I am. There were no openings available for me, and I was starting to worry if I would find a job or not. Then a miracle happened! Suddenly the preparations for your new book launch began, and 'boom!', Jessie is working again, baby!"

"In that case, I guess we helped each other."

"You bet!"

"It's good to be back. I had forgotten how much I loved writing."

"It's good to have you back! Now that all the launch chaos is over, what are you going to do?"

"Write."

"Already?"

"I'm just going to start drafting a novel I have in mind. I'm thinking of spending a few weeks in a secluded cabin I bought to write in peace without interruptions."

"That sounds great! It's a good way to relax, actually. But I personally wouldn't go where Amazon delivery doesn't reach; that's my limit of isolation. Another cup of coffee?”

"“No. I need to sleep.”

“You can order a decaf coffee.”

“Even so. I've already exceeded my daily caffeine limit.”

Jessie asked the waitress for another cup of coffee for herself.

“I'm sorry we're not celebrating in a bar as tradition dictates.”

“Don't say that! It's no problem. I appreciate your more reserved style of celebrating; the last writer I assisted liked to let loose with his pseudo-intellectual friends. I was completely uncomfortable at those parties, damn it.”

"Okay, so get ready 'cause next time I'll take you to play bingo with some elderly people!"

"Fuck yeah!" And she laughed. "Hey, the people who were at the event are already tweeting about it. Really positive feedback! Hmm, and even that annoying literary critic released a review of your book. I haven't read it yet, but from the headline, it seems he liked it. His idiot followers are going to sell out your book on Amazon now. Flawless victory!"

You two talked for another hour about various subjects, and then you realized that you would like to have her around always because working with Jessie sped things up and she was fun company too.

Around midnight, you both decided to call it a night and go back to the hotel. She went in first, and you decided to stay outside a bit longer to smoke a cigarette. You sat on the curb near the hotel façade and lit a cigarette. You weren't exactly a smoker. Only about five cigarettes a month, at most. The urge to smoke at that moment came naturally, healthily, just to end the night and have more time to reflect on the day before going to sleep. Things were finally falling into place, and you wanted to enjoy this feeling of peace a little longer. The street was very calm. The cold, damn, was intense. Although the rain had stopped, the wind remained relentless, and your blazer was your hero.”

"Can I join you?" asked a sweet voice.

You instinctively looked back.

"Sana?! Is that you?" you asked, quite startled.

It took you a few moments to recognize her because Sana had changed clothes, now wearing something more comfortable and that protected her from the cold.

"I'm glad you haven't forgotten my name."

She sat down beside you.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was heading back to the hotel."

"Oh, are you staying at this hotel too?"

She smiled at you.

"What a coincidence, right?"

"Yeah... It's quite chilly, isn't it?"

"True. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course. Feel free to ask anything."

"Who is that girl who's always with you?"

"What?"

"The brunette girl who wears glasses. She was always around you at the bookstore."

"Oh, you mean Jessie? She's my assistant. She helped with organizing the event. Very smart girl."

Sana scoffed and laughed.

"Smart, huh? Okay... Do you like girls like that?"

"It's a good quality in anyone."

"Except when they're arrogant towards people," Sana remarked, a little bitterly.

"That's true. Luckily, Jessie isn't that kind of person."

"Oh, really?" Sana questioned. "But let's stop talking about her now."

"Did you stay here just for the book launch?"

"Of course. I traveled just to see you, silly." She placed her hand on your knee. "You looked so lonely sitting here."

"I was just about to go into the hotel."

"Can we go in together? What do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Don't pretend you don't."

Yeah, you could get an idea. Her tone of voice was unmistakable. Sana obviously wanted to go to bed with you, and since the bookstore, you felt something different coming from her. It was hard to explain exactly what it was... whether it was good or bad... You couldn't say.

"Please, Sana. I'm much older than you..."

"I'm not as young as I look. And I know you want this too."

Her hand slid up your thigh. Sana had a warm, comforting touch, and an intrusive thought made you imagine what it would be like for that hand to touch your cock.

"Look, I'm not that kind of guy," you stood up. "I don't take young girls infatuated with idols to bed. It's not right."

"There's nothing wrong with it!" she said, almost shouting.

"For me, it's wrong, Sana."

"Am I not attractive enough?"

The devil knew how attractive she was. That face, those eyes, that smile, the scent... It was all too familiar. And her slender body... It had been a while since you had sex. Since the divorce, you hadn't been with anyone else. There were attempts from some women, but you pushed them away due to the self-loathing you felt.

Were you still doing this? Had therapy failed?

No, this was a different situation.

"Sana, you're beautiful. You caught my eye the moment I saw you at the bookstore. Not just mine, I bet. You're a stunning woman, but this just... isn't right for me. I'm sorry, I need to go in now."

"Your attention is the only one I want. We can get to know each other better if that's the issue. I rea-"

You left her talking alone on the sidewalk and entered the hotel. You felt bad for doing that, but damn it, you knew she wouldn't give up if you kept stringing her along.

In the bedroom, finally, you were getting ready to go to sleep. You needed to get up early for a meeting with your literary agent via Zoom; in the afternoon, you would catch a flight back home and finally rest properly. You lay in bed, eyes closed, trying to sleep, trying to think of anything other than that woman. Girl. She was just a girl. After a while, it became difficult to hold onto any thoughts; you knew you would fall asleep soon…

Knock, knock!... Knock, knock!

You opened your eyes, somewhat groggy. Did someone knock on the door? You could have sworn you heard it. But sometimes you heard sounds from beyond, mere creations of your mind. Despite that, you got up and decided to investigate anyway. You looked but didn't see anyone through the peephole. You thought about going back to bed, but something stronger than you made you open the door and glance down the hallway.

She was leaning against the wall to the left of the door.

"Sorry to bother you again," Sana said timidly.

"What are you doing here? And how did you find my room?" you asked, not in an annoyed tone. You were still half-asleep to fully grasp the situation.

"That doesn't matter. I wanted to apologize to you for everything I said."

She seemed genuinely sad, remorseful maybe. And faced with her sadness, the first thing you thought about was how beautiful she looked in that silk pajama, casually sexy, with long sleeves and short shorts that revealed Sana's beautiful thighs. It was the pajama you most enjoyed seeing on women. Tremendous coincidence.

"It's okay. Look, I'm not angry with you. Let's forget all this, alright? Go back to your room and get some sleep."

"And you think I'll be able to sleep?" she asked, looking deep into your eyes. "If you were in my place, could you sleep knowing that the love of your life is in another bed on a floor above yours?"

You took a moment before answering.

"Probably not. But there's nothing I can do about it, Sana."

"I've dreamed of this moment for years. When you turned your back on me out there, I felt like dying. It hurt."

You took a deep breath. It was like being trapped in a submarine that kept sinking. You saw her eyes shimmering with tears that could spill at any moment.

In these dilemmas, everything seems to lose its purpose for a moment. And a moment is enough to derail everything else. You knew that, but even so:

"Come in," you said to her.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. It's cold out in the hallway. Let's talk a bit in here."

Sana entered; you asked her to sit on the edge of the bed with you.

"I'm not exactly sure what to say. But maybe you're fixated on a parasocial relationship doomed to fail."

"How can you say that without even trying first? I know you're hurt. Believe me, I understand that perfectly. But I want to prove to you that you can trust someone again. I want to repay what you've done for me."

"This is so damn strange, Sana. So strange that I can't even properly grasp what's happening."

She moved a bit closer to you.

"You've been my peace of mind since I read your first book. Your characters, your stories, your interviews, your lectures — everything was a refuge for me! I followed everything you did. I never missed an episode of that segment you and your friend hosted on the radio talking about movies. And the signal was awful in my town," she told you, ridiculously excited. You almost felt sorry for her in that moment.

"Sana, you don't understa-" You suddenly felt a chill run through your entire body. A tightening in your chest. The scent of Sana... It was familiar for a reason: she was wearing the same lilac perfume that your ex-wife used to wear. You thought you'd never smell that fragrance again.

"Is something wrong?" Sana asked, concerned.

"No, nothing," you replied.

Your voice wouldn't pass through your throat. A sudden urge to cry overwhelmed you.

"Are you sure?" She held your hand. "Your expression changed so suddenly."

"I'm just tired."

"I know you've been through a lot in recent years. So many problems... You've been terribly lonely." She touched your face. So soft... You just wanted her to continue. "You need a woman to take care of you. Someone who truly knows you and admires you, and who will never, ever leave you.”

“No. Look, Sana, you’re confusing things again. I didn’t call you here to-”

“Shh! You think too much! Just for tonight, set reason aside and feel the vibe a little.” Sana slowly slid her hand over your chest, stopping where your heart was. Then she whispered, “You realize? Your body wants it. And if I put my hand on your cock now, I’d be twice as sure of it.”

Sana sat on your lap. She kissed your cheek slowly and whispered in your ear: touch me. Please, touch me. The words seemed to float with some kind of magic, and before you could notice, you were enchanted by her. You held Sana’s waist and brought your face closer to her neck, breathing in that fragrance that was once so familiar to you. Kiss me, Sana said. Your lips touched her neck, kissing every inch of her delicate skin very slowly as your mind was transported to a place you missed. You heard her breathing grow heavier, then Sana started lightly kissing your earlobe while stroking your hair. The kisses turned to licks, then to nibbles, and finally, to sucking. You pressed her body against yours, overwhelmed with shivers. Sana moved her hips over your groin; you knew she was feeling the outline of your cock, enjoying driving you crazy, and, of course, adding more fuel to the fire spreading inside her.

“Lie down on the bed, baby,” she purred.

You didn’t have time to react as Sana pushed you down while staying on top of you. Viewed from above, Sana exuded a frightening confidence, and the way she guided you made it clear that this was obviously not new to her.

“I’m going to suck you now. Just lie back and relax. I’ll take care of the rest.”

You felt Sana's teasing touch as she pulled down your pants along with your underwear, her eyes shining with insatiable lust. Her warm lips enveloped your cock with hypnotizing skill, each movement of her tongue tracing paths of pure pleasure. "I’ve always wanted to taste you," she whispered, her voice laden with malice, before taking you deep into her mouth. The sensation was electrifying, and you felt every nerve in your body pulse with excitement; your extremely sensitive cock reacted intensely to each suck, lick, and kiss from Sana. You hadn't had sex in years, and even masturbation was no longer part of your life, so the intensity of the situation consumed you quickly to the point of making you explode like fireworks. "I’m gonna cum," you warned, but she just kept eye contact, Sana’s eyes challenging as she sucked harder. "Cum in my mouth, you pervert," she commanded, and you did, a hoarse moan escaping your lips. Sana swallowed all your cum, smiling mischievously as she slowly licked her lips. "Mmm, delicious," she murmured, then squeezed your cock to get every last drop left at the tip, capturing it with her tongue as it dripped, licking it like ice cream while you rolled your eyes in pleasure.

Sana didn’t give you time to catch your breath. Before reason could return to your mind, she was already sliding her lips over your body, planting wet and voracious kisses on your thighs. She asked you to take off your shirt, and so you did. Her lips reached your nipples, licking and sucking them with an almost painful intensity. "You’re going to get hard for me again, you naughty writer!" she murmured against your skin, her eyes shining with a wicked determination, her adorable face carrying a demonic facet at the same time. "I know you still have breath for me; I can see it in your eyes," she teased, her hand working skillfully on your erection, the firm and rhythmic movements quickly bringing your cock back to life. You felt the excitement growing again, unable to resist her skill.

Sana took off her shorts and turned around, getting on all fours in front of you, raising her ass invitingly, her hips swaying provocatively. "Come fuck me, I want to feel you filling me," she taunted, her voice both an invitation and a challenge. "Come on, don’t be shy now," she laughed, looking over her shoulder with a naughty smile. "You’re mine, only mine," she said, her voice laden with possession. You positioned yourself behind her, your hands firmly gripping her hips as you penetrated her forcefully. The sensation of being inside her, so warm and tight, was intoxicating. Sana moaned loudly, pushing back against you with every thrust. "Yes, harder," she begged, her voice filled with desire and need. "Fuck this tight pussy," she ordered, and you obeyed, each thrust making her moans echo through the room, the humid and hot atmosphere building to a crescendo.

Soon, you both got out of bed. Sana was being pressed against the wall by you, her hands held above her head by yours. "You're a fucking slut," you whispered in her ear, your voice a possessive growl as you penetrated her deeply and squeezed her small breasts. "And you love this, don't you?" she responded, her voice a mix of command and plea. "Come on, fuck me more," she teased, her eyes closed in pleasure. "I want you all to myself," she moaned. You lifted one of her legs, allowing an even deeper and more intense penetration. "Yeah! Like that, baby!" she moaned, the sound of skin against skin, her moans, and heavy breathing filled the room.

Finally, you returned to the bed, where Sana positioned herself on top of you. She began to sit on your cock with her back to you, her slow and sensual movements driving you crazy. "Your cock goes so deep in my pussy! Admit it, I fuck better than your ex-wife, don't I?" she teased, looking over her shoulder with a naughty smile. "You know I'm right, you're loving me so much!" You could only nod, pleasure dominating every fiber of your being. "You're mine, and only mine. You can do anything to me, I don't care," she murmured possessively. Then, she turned around and started riding you facing forward, her hands entwining with yours. "I'm going to make you cum again, you naughty boy," she promised, increasing the pace. Every movement she made was erotic, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. And she smiled at you between moans with passion and devotion, Sana was simply incredible. "Tell me I'm the best you've ever had, tell me I'm better than your ex-wife," she demanded, her eyes locked on yours. "Tell me you love me," she insisted, her voice loaded with an obsession that only made the sex more exciting.

The tension was growing, the arousal becoming unbearable, and you could feel the climax approaching rapidly. "I can't take it anymore," you panted, but Sana just smiled wickedly. "You can cum inside me if you want. I'm all yours!" she whispered, her eyes gleaming with desire. With a sudden realization, you stood up and pulled her, laying Sana on her back on the bed (the last thing you wanted right now was to get a fan pregnant). Your sweaty and trembling body positioned above her. "Come on, fuck me more! Don't stop now, love," she taunted, her eyes locked on yours, her voice laden with desire and possession. "You're making your woman so happy, did you know that?" she whispered, her voice trembling with pleasure.

You penetrated her again, the movements intense and fast. Your moans intensified, the bed creaking softly as you fucked Sana with renewed ferocity. The pleasure was palpable, an electric current between you. You felt every muscle in your body tense, the climax inevitable. "Come on, fill me with your cum," she moaned, her voice laden with lust and desperation.

"Cum for me, please!" she moaned, her eyes locked on yours with passionate intensity. With one final, powerful movement, you withdrew from her, feeling your body pulse with pleasure. You quickly started to masturbate, your fingers moving frantically along your cock as the pleasure built up. "Yes, cum on my belly, make a mess on it," she encouraged, her gaze fixed on yours with insatiable hunger. Finally, you exploded, spraying your hot cum on her belly, each spurt accompanied by a hoarse moan of relief and ecstasy. “Cum more, baby! Give me all that milk! Yes! Yes! Mmmm, so warm, baby.” The hot liquid covered Sana's sweaty skin, and you rubbed the head of your cock on her thigh... soft as hell.

Sana smiled, satisfied, her eyes shining with a sickly love that at that moment even seemed logical to you. She was irresistible; that was the problem. Before you could see it, you were on top of her, planting kisses on Sana's lips while her fingers traced circles on your chest, somehow still connected by the moment of pure lust. "You are mine, and I will make you feel that every time," she whispered, her eyes still shining with desire. "See? We were made for each other. This is love, dear," she murmured, making it clear that this wouldn't be the last time she claimed you so intensely. "I’m going to get you addicted to me, my little writer," she promised, making the moment even more erotic and suffocating.

Still gasping for breath, you gazed at each other, bodies pressed together, sweat mingling between you. Without a word, you leaned in and kissed Sana with overwhelming passion, your tongues meeting with deep desire. Sana responded with equal fervor, her hands tracing lines of fire across your body wherever they touched. "You taste so good," she murmured between kisses, her fingers gripping your muscles, pulling you closer still. "It's just like I dreamed it would be."

Your lips trailed down her neck, nibbling and sucking on delicate skin as she softly moaned in your ear. "I love you… Don't leave me, please," she pleaded, struggling to suppress a compulsive urge to cry in your arms. Your bodies moved in perfect sync. Your hands slid down her back, firmly holding her waist as she rubbed her body against yours, sparking renewed excitement.

You rolled on the bed, bodies intertwined, exploring every inch of each other's skin. "You're mine," she repeated, her voice laden with possessive desire, her hands roaming your chest, her lips never far from yours for long. Every kiss, every touch, carried an almost unbearable intensity, a need to reaffirm the delicate connection that had formed between you.

Finally, the two of you settled down, still kissing, the caresses becoming gentler but no less passionate. "I want you more than anything," she murmured against your lips, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on your chest. "You don't need to speak right now. I accept all this silence, for now. I know you're processing what just happened, but understand that I will make you want only me… You'll see," she asserted, her gaze meeting yours, making it clear that the promise of pleasure and possession wouldn't end there.

You woke up in a silence too good to be true. Terribly calm and comfortable. Of course, because you were not alone. That girl, Sana, sleeping peacefully like an angel on your chest. She had a serene and innocent expression, very different from the girl you saw last night. You got up slowly, being careful not to wake her.

What the fuck!!

You checked your phone and saw that it was already past noon. You had slept through the entire morning and missed breakfast with Jessie, where she was supposed to give you the details of your participation in a YouTube literature channel. Several missed calls from Jessie and your literary agent. Damn, you also missed the meeting with your literary agent.

Failing again. You were letting people down, and that's how everything started to go downhill in your life. ‘I’m a Best-Selling author, these things don’t affect me.’ Your arrogance was part of your downfall.

You looked at Sana, she was still sleeping.

And it's all her fault...

No, you were just blaming someone else again. You thought you had set the alarm on your phone but it was on silent mode. Weird as hell. You never leave your phone on silent.

Ah, screw it all! You went to take a shower; it would certainly help clear your mind. Then when you came out of the bathroom, Sana was sitting on the bed.

“Good morning, baby,” she said. “Come here!” Sana extended her arms, expecting you to go to her.

“You need to go now,” you said curtly.

It was time to end this once and for all.

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Now! What we had was a mistake, Sana.” You took a deep breath. No point in getting stressed now. “I can call a car for you if you want.”

She looked at you, confused.

“What do you mean by ‘a mistake’? Wasn’t what we had special to you?”

“It meant nothing, Sana. I lost my mind at that moment.”

She got up from the bed, deeply irritated.

“I thought I knew everything about you, but I guess I was wrong! Yeah, even I can be wrong sometimes... Do you do this to all the girls who are your fans? Take them to bed and then discard them like trash?”

“I never slept with a fan! This was the first and last time.”

“Don’t do this to me!” she shouted, pointing her finger in your face. “You can’t use me like a toy, I’m warning you, this will have consequences!”

“It was you who came knocking on my door, Sana! Look… just forget it, okay? If I misled you, I apologize. I was a jerk. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“You don’t understand. Damn it, you don’t understand… You are the reason I live! I waited so long for this, waited so long to find you… I thought I did everything right… How can you do this to me?” Sana asked, her voice breaking.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Sana.” you tried to comfort her with a hand on her shoulder. “Take a shower, eat something. You’ll feel better. And go home, please.”

“You can’t do this to me,” tears were in her eyes. “I did everything for you, you know? Everything, you bastard!”

You were caught off guard by a slap. The sound echoed loudly in the room.

“What the hell is your problem?” you asked, more incredulous than angry.

She walked past you and went to the door.

“I swear to God, this isn’t the last time you’ll see me. You’re mine, understand? I’ll forgive you this time because I still feel that affection you showed me last night. I know it was real! I’ll try not to think about what happened now.”

“Hmm, okay.” you said, relieved. “That’s great.”

In a few hours, you’d be flying back to your city and, obviously, would never see her again.

“You don’t mess with a woman’s feelings like this, you know? You hurt me here, but I forgive you because I love you, okay?” she was silent for a few moments, perhaps waiting for you to return those words or apologize. But you stayed silent. “I love you more than my life, and I will fight for our love. And next time... you won’t be able to escape me.”

She closed the door.

“Fuck, finally!”

The words she said during sex… they weren’t just dirty talk to turn you on… she really meant them.

You went to the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. To your dismay, Sana’s hand was marked on your face.

"Wow! You must have been incredibly tired!" Jessie said to you as you met at the airport.

"I'm really sorry for missing breakfast and lunch. I promise it won't happen again."

"It's all right. You were a hit yesterday; the boss and I will give you a pass. By the way, you talked to him, right?"

"Yes. Everything's sorted out."

"He's really freaking happy about the new baby, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is!"

"So, I'll give you the details of the interview during the flight. Hmm, did you eat anything?"

"Burger and fries."

"You need to eat better. You can't just eat that kind of stuff. When your schedule gets really busy, you won't want to get sick." She warned, and you couldn't help but find it funny that a 20-year-old girl was acting like your nanny. "Lunch was great, sir. You really missed the best part of the day."

"You must have waited for me a long time, huh? I feel terrible about it."

"Oh, of course not. After you texted me saying you weren't coming to lunch, I went ahead and ate alone!"

"What?"

"Hmm?"

"The message. I didn't text you."

"You literally sent me a message saying you were exhausted and would keep sleeping. You must have been half-asleep when you typed it and forgot."

You took your phone out of your pocket, completely desperate. You opened the chat with Jessie and there it was: 'I'm more tired than I thought, not coming to lunch. Oh, and the meeting is postponed too. Sorry!!'

Fuck...

You felt a chill in your stomach. Sana had sent that damn message. How the hell did she know your phone's password? The most plausible answer was that she used your fingerprint to unlock the phone while you were sleeping. That girl was really sick.

"Are you okay?" Jessie asked.

"Yes, sure! It's nothing."

It wasn't worth mentioning to Jessie that Sana had sent the message; you would have to explain everything to her, and the whole story was embarrassing and weird. When it came to revealing that you slept with a young woman just because she wore the same perfume as your ex-wife (there were other things besides the perfume, but mentioning the rest would only worsen your image), you would have no credibility left and would certainly be considered a disturbed person by Jessie.

The best thing to do was to forget everything that happened yesterday, except for the book launch, and then move on with your life. You were going to 'take a vacation' soon, so this series of bizarre events would soon fade from your mind… Thank God!

Later on the plane, you were looking for some photos of the book launch to send to your sponsor, the guy who was helping you avoid alcohol relapses. He was a good man and would surely be happy to know that your return to literature had been successful. You were scrolling through the photos taken last night when one of them caught your attention. In fact, it scared the hell out of you. You kept scrolling through the gallery, and the photos seemed endless, many in a row that looked very similar to each other. You almost dropped your phone on the floor.

You quickly turned off your phone screen and looked at the seat next to you. Fortunately, Jessie was sound asleep.

You turned your phone screen back on and opened one of the photos, analyzing it for a few seconds. It seemed unreal. It was as if the surprises never ended. While you were sleeping, Sana had stealthily taken your phone to snap all this photos. It was conclusive proof that she had indeed violated your privacy, perhaps thinking the would be a special memento of that night.

But

In reality

It was a reminder of a terrible mistake you made.

To be continued...