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riddlesrose · 7 days ago

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kissin him stupid

w/ the housewardens

in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.

(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)

note; malleus' is the shortest but the most full of love i swear to goooood but the post itself is quite long

if riddle could form a proper sentence right now, he might scold you for slacking off, or breaking rule six hundred and seventeen, or he may just ask you to do it again. if colours could speak, his face would scream in comparison to the red accents in the housewarden’s room, uniform and matching hair.

you attempt to keep a sober expression but he seriously cannot be so flustered by a single kiss? the red lip stain on his cheek is bright against the flush of his cheeks, as he sputters vowels and consonants, attempting to speak, to protest, to ask you what in the queen’s name are you doing.

you invited riddle over to the ramshackle dorm under the guise of needing help with studying, but you had this motive the entire time. riddle could feel your rebel to his help and directions if he ignored the obvious fact you hadn’t even cracked the spine of your book yet (to be fair it was only assigned today, and it was a new book), and the devious smile you attempted to hide until now.

riddle took a breath, finally feeling sensible enough, “what… was that.”

“affection, riddle. this isn’t new.” you shot, tone dripping in sarcasm.

“yes, my rose, i know that. i mean,” he grabs hold of your uniform tie, drawing you closer, “what’s with the lipstick?” your head probably could have exploded, where did this riddle come from and how can he be drawn out more often?

you press a swift kiss to riddle’s other cheek, thanks to the proximity. “i have no explanation,” you press another kiss onto his forehead, “i simply was gifted it,” a kiss to his temple, “this morning.” the grip riddle has on your tie loosens completely as it falls back onto your chest, slightly wrinkled from the force.

“i just had this ironed!” you frown.

“i-i’ll get it done again.” riddle stands, brushing invisible dust off his jacket, though nothing could distract from the shade of pink that covers his face.

“you’ll iron my tie for me? how kind.” you wrap an arm around riddle’s waist, pulling him close. he drops his forehead against your chest with a thud, inaudibly mumbling to himself.

you wrap your other arm around him as he takes your face between his hands, slightly squishing into your cheeks he drags your face to his height, kissing you feverishly.

“where did this riddle come from? i like him.”

“i just felt… bold i suppose.” riddle’s red tinted lips smile against yours.

“do it again!”

leona stirs underneath you. you’re sat, straddling either side of his hips, weight pressed on his defined torso. leona doesn’t know it but you’ve practically trapped him where he sleeps. where he’s asleep currently, that is. in your dorm.

on your couch.

using your pillows, taking in the setting sun like a true feline, though you would never dare utter the word feline anywhere near him lest you face the wrath of a moody boyfriend.

you silently laugh to yourself, leaning down and pressing your lips on the prince’s temple.

leona stirs again at that, attempting to roll over – he cracks an eye when you gasp. slowly, coming to his senses, he furrows his brows at your positioning. you weren’t there when he fell asleep, when did you do that, and why are you sitting on him with half of a sinister smile across your lips…

and when did your lips turn red? he brings a hand up to rub his face, trying to shake the sleep out of his fogged mind, but you catch his hand before it makes contant.

“don’t, it’ll mess up all my hard work,” you say with a half hint of embarrassment. (just a hint; only because you were caught before you could slip away undiscovered.)

leona’s confusion increases, as he detaches your hand from his wrist. he takes his freed hand up to your lips and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, smudging it further across the line of your lip.

he inspects his red finger, “is this… lipstick?” you purse your lips in an attempt to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your chest. he looks ridiculous; eyes half lidded, nose crunched in focus and red marks painting his face.

your tinted lips curl upwards slightly into a smug grin, “maybe?” if leona knows one thing, it’s smug grins. he matches yours and wipes his thumb on your cheek, smearing the lipstick off his thumb and onto your skin.

you playfully swat his hand away and lean down to continue painting your masterpiece, placing another kiss on his skin – onto the spot between his eyebrows. leona’s hand find your hip, giving a teasing pinch to the side.

leona may be a prince used to some pampering, but this is some treatment he could get used to.

azul has a finger in every pie, as riddle likes to say. you’re very much aware of that as your boyfriend likes to talk your ear off about his investments, new opportunities and the lounge. you’re so very proud of all of his hard work but sometimes he gets off on a tangent that doesn’t stop until you make him. usually with a kiss. it flusters him just enough that he forgets what he was going on about and it works every time.

this time, however, was a bit different. azul didn’t take notice of the hue change of your lips as you leaned in and shut him up. drawing back, you snicker at his pursed lips and flushed cheeks, and the red lipstick smeared around his lips.

azul peeked in your direction, curious. you usually find it funny when he’s flustered like this but you were laughing a little too much. he noticed the messy red lipstick and furrowed his brows, wiping a finger across his lips.

you suppressed a smile as you watched him curiously examine his stained finger, “it’s lipstick.” he concludes.

“well… obviously? i thought that would have been pretty clear,” you grab his hand, wiping the red off of his finger.

before azul can retort you lean in to kiss him again; anywhere you can get your lips on before he shells himself away, utterly embarrassed. a kiss to his cheek, jaw, forehead, nose, other cheek, forehead again, has him sputtering, almost begging to be released.

azul places his free hand on your shoulder, trying to push you away while laughing between breaths. when you do back up, leaning back on your hand, he almost looks sad. (as if he wasn’t actively trying to get you off!)

“so, mister ashengrotto? feeling loved and appreciated yet?” you give him a toothy grin, watching as his face contorts from flustered to even-more-flustered. (if that’s possible.)

“well yes! i dare say i’m feeling very valued and cherished as well.” despite his rosy features, his voice is unwavering, full of conviction.

his confident, put-together outer layer completely melts away when you’re alone with him, but this has him absolutely on fire, a feeling no number could replace. numbers can’t give affection, you give it tenfold in their stead.

kalim’s permanent grin widens when you claim you’ve got a gift for him. he expectantly holds out his hands, making you shake your head.

“it’s more of an eyes closed kind of gift,” you start, kalim instantly squeezes his eyes shut. he puts so much trust in you that you worry jamil has eyes everywhere. everywhere. but you brush the jesting idea away, believing that you wouldn’t even be allowed on scarabia grounds if jamil didn’t trust you with the housewarden.

you turn to a nearby mirror, passing the tube of red lipstick over your lips. the smooth makeup applies nice and neatly. (doesn’t matter because you know it won’t be neat for long.)

you step back over to where kalim’s sitting on the edge of his bed, standing between his knees. he’s waiting not-so patiently, he looks like he’s almost vibrating, is he really that excited? you suppress a smile as you gently grab onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side as you press your lips to his cheek. his laughter immediately fills the room, making you press more kisses over his face. one to his forehead, one on the nose, another on the other cheek, his temples, and anywhere you can get before he’s laughing too much, pushing you away.

“it tickles,” he heaves a breath, “stop!” a wider smile grows on his face after seeing yours, the red lipstick you applied had smudged around your lips, looking not-so neat. his face isn’t much better, tan skin littered in red kisses.

while you’re mentally retaining the image of kalim covered in red lip marks, you notice him looking more intently at you. you raise a brow, curiously.

“my turn, give it here!” he reaches a hand out, expecting the tube of lipstick?

you look at him bewildered, “what?”

“my turn!” he repeats. he seems real set on returning the ‘gift’ it seems. kalim’s all smiles as you hand him the black tube. he exposes the stick and passes it over his own lips, tossing it aside and pulling you down to his seated height. he flattens his lips across the expanse of your face, getting at any skin he can just like you did to him.

when he deems he’s finished, you’re dazed and equally covered in red lipstick stains, smiles wide across your faces. matching stained faces for matching blitheringly infatuated idiots.

vil leans on the back of his vanity chair; his face littered in different coloured lip marks. the reason? he claims he wants to see which ones compliment him the most.

you know he already knows exactly which shades of each brand line do exactly that. (thanks, rook.) vil doesn’t know that you know he’s already figured this out.

you wipe the makeup remover-soaked cotton pad across your lips, ridding it of the pink. “what would all of your fans think if they knew you were being covered completely in rainbow kisses?” you wipe the moisture from your lips as vil reaches around you to grab another tube, but you stop him.

“i’m sure they would lose their minds,” you reach into your pocket, revealing a miscellaneous tube of lipstick, it matches none of the previously discarded lipsticks, nor does it have a brand logo on it. “where did you find this?” vil takes the lipstick in his hand, nimbly examining the exterior. he removes the top to reveal a rich, velvety red colour. his eyes widen just slightly.

“it’s a secret,” you wink and take the lipstick from him and apply it, smiling as you replace its cap and let it fall from your hand, onto a messy vanity behind you.

vil wraps an arm around your neck, drawing you closer to his seated level, “well, share your secret with me, if you would be so kind.” you swiftly close the gap between yourself and the housewarden, administering a healthy dose of red onto his lips and the surrounding skin.

he parts first, his cheeks dawn a hint of pink that’s hidden behind the various stains on his otherwise perfect skin. he truly is the most beautiful person ever. makeup or not, hair tied back or loose, vil is sincerely as pretty as the morning's first light, a flower; freshly bloomed, and a fresh set of nails.

“you’re staring. not that i mind,” you snap out of your hazy daydream about your gorgeous boyfriend and back into reality.

“yeah, sorry. you’re just really fucking pretty.” you lean down and tenderly kiss his forehead as he internally squeals like one of his fan-girls. he really hit the jackpot with you as his (second) biggest fan.

idia looks up at you with wide yellow eyes, but they have a sort of gloss over them that makes you believe he would not want you to get up and leave his dorm right now. you grin at his feeble attempt of a silent, inconclusive plea. an ask to what, you’re unsure because his face (minus the eyes) and hands grabbing at you tell you he’s very much enjoying you straddling his hips right now.

you reach into your pocket, revealing your master plan. a tube of lipstick, you swipe it over your lips once, then twice before replacing the cap and tossing it down, letting it hit the plush bedsheet you’re atop.

the translucent tips of his hair start to turn pink as you lean down towards his face. a trembling hand comes up to your shoulder, not pushing you away but seemingly grounding the housewarden underneath you. “how cute,” you smile against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his left cheek, then the right. one more on his forehead for good measure. maybe one more. okay, one last one couldn’t hurt.

you sit upright and drag a hand down idia’s chest, over the sweater you know is probably two sizes to large for him, (but that’s how he likes them you suppose and it just makes for a more comfortable sweater when you steal ‘em) while admiring the definitely not smudge-proof lipstick marks on idia’s face, giggling as you compare the red smears to his blue features. you wonder if-

the rapid rise and fall of idia’s chest catches your attention, it almost sounds like he’s hyperventilating, but when you look up to his face it’s surrounded by fiery pink hair and a flush across his cheeks, spanning down his neck, you realize he’s fine. probably a little more than fine.

“well, that’s some false advertising,” you smile, wiping at the edges of your lips lightly with a finger. idia snaps out of his stupor, hastily agreeing with a stuttered breath. his hands find your hips, giving you a small squeeze. you lean down and press a proper kiss to his lips, you lift away just as quick as you bent down, pushing idia back down as he chases you up, hoping for more. a pitiful whine escapes him as his hair burns brighter.

the red lipstick mixes with his natural blue lips gives him a sort of purple that would put the octavinelle’s house colour to shame. though, he almost looks forlorn. the usual solemn and gloomy housewarden; reduced to a blushing mess after a few kisses.

hilarious, isn’t it?

malleus’s eyes flutter shut, a pleased sigh escapes his lips. his hands, hidden by your sweater, trace messy patterns on your back as his nails scratch lightly. he’s unsure of how he got himself into this humanoid predicament but he’s not complaining.

you’re sat in his lap, placing kisses all over his face, leaving red lip marks behind.

“you look like you’re enjoying this more than i am, malleus.” you bring a hand up to rake it through his bangs, pushing them behind his horns and revealing the shiny scales hidden beneath.

the housewarden cracks a sharp emerald eye, examining your features. the slope of your nose, the curve of your stained lips, your eyelashes, cheeks. your eyes. oh how he loves your eyes, the way they look up to him with adoration, not fear or indifference like other humans do.

you cup his cheek, “malleus?”

he blinks once, twice. the gloss over his eyes breaks, refocusing on you. “i apologize, i was lost in thought.”

“i could tell,” you trace your finger to the tip of his ear, then drop your hand back into your lap. “what were you thinking of? me?”

“yes.”

“woah, okay. blunt!” heat rises to your face.

a hand leaves your back, trailing around your side and up to tuck a piece of hair away from your eyes. “was i not suppose to tell the truth?”

“no, malleus, you should have said you were thinking of pancakes.”

“but i wasn’t? i was thinking of-” you cut him off, placing a kiss on his lips.

“now, let me resume my art.”

malleus is more than happy to sit as still as the gargoyle statues he studies while you press kisses all over his face. he is, truly is.

this was so self indulgent i ain’t even sorry (is my favouritism showing??)

masterlist

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 3 months ago

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Not So Rational

Summary: On a mission together, Azriel's composure slipped, leading to an unexpected confession.

Fictober Challenge

Everything had gone relatively smoothly on your latest mission until the path you and Azriel were following seemed to disappear. His shadows drifted around the both of you, protective and searching, as you both came to a halt in the clearing.

“Well, this is fantastic,” you sighed, placing your hands on your hips as you surveyed the surrounding woods. “We’re lost. I’m officially declaring it.”

Azriel shot you a dry look, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. “We’re not lost. We’re…recalculating.”

“Recaluclating?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “That’s what you call it when you have no idea where we are?”

He let out a soft huff, but you could tell he was holding back a laugh. “I don’t think you’re in a position to critique my tracking skills, considering you’ve been following my lead without complaint.”

“Because I trust you, Shadowsinger. And your shadows are supposed to know the way,” you retorted, an impish grin spreading across your face. “But if you’d like me to take over, I’m sure my impeccable sense of direction will get us somewhere…maybe not where we need to be, but at least somewhere.”

Azriel’s eyes glinted with amusement, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Impeccable sense of direction? Is that what you call getting us turned around three times on our last mission?”

“Hey, that was one time,” you protested, jabbing a finger in his direction. “And I’m pretty sure it was because someone’s shadows were being…distracting.”

He playfully swatted your hand away. “My shadows were being distracting?” he said, looking at you with mock incredulity. “They’re practically invisible, Y/n. Especially at night.”

You leaned in, your smile teasing. “Partially invisible, maybe. But definitely distracting. Or maybe it was you being distracting. Hard to say.” You shrugged.

Azriel’s smirk faded ever so slightly, replaced by something deeper, more thoughtful. He stepped closer, and suddenly, the air between you shifted. His eyes searched yours, and for the first time, you noticed that he seemed…uncertain, hesitant. Vulnerable, even.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. He’d noticed that he’d been the one always taking charge, leading you, giving orders without you ever complaining. And he wanted to share things with you. After all, you were partners, and he wanted you to feel equally involved. “What do you think we should do?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Me? Az, you’re supposed to be the rational one, remember? The steady, level-headed strategist. I’m the one who makes bad jokes to lighten all that seriousness and gets us around in forests.”

He tilted his head slightly, and a smile ghosted across his lips. “Supposed to be...”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. One of the three strongest Illyrian warriors, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster and torturer of the Night Court isn’t rational?” you teased, though your voice wavered slightly as he closed the distance between you.

Azriel’s hand reached up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “You make me question my rationality all the time,” he confessed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, swallowing hard. “I do?”

A rare smile curved his lips, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You do,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “When it comes to you, I don’t think I’ve ever been rational.”

“Az, are you…flirting with me?” you asked hesitantly, trying to sound playful even as your voice trembled.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “What if I am?”

You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of whether he was serious or joking. Words failed you as you kept looking at him, the silence thick and electric.

“What? No comeback, no retort? Have I finally managed to make you speechless?” he teased, his smirk deepening.

You wanted to say something- anything. To shoot back, but all you managed to let out was: “Uhm… I-”

He couldn’t hide the satisfaction he felt at seeing you so flustered, so off-guard, struggling. He closed the remaining distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt both inevitable and charged. His hands cupped your face, and you melted into him, your knees almost giving in as years of tension and unspoken feelings finally broke free.

When you pulled away, breathless and dazed, he rested his forehead against yours, his shadows wrapping around the two of you in a protective embrace. “I guess I’m not as composed as everyone thinks,” he whispered against your lips, his voice full of affection.

You laughed softly, threading your fingers in his hair. “Good. I like you better this way.”

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar imagine #azriel imagine #fictober #azriel drabble #acotar x reader #acotar drabble #fluff #azriel fluff #acotar fluff #fluffy azriel #fictober24

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singmyaubade · 2 years ago

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No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s incredible and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

A/N: First, I wanna say thank you to @sweetsweetjellybean for letting me be inspired by her story even though I am stupid, lol, but seriously (not kissing ass), check her series out; it is fantastic. Thank you to everyone for the kind comments, reblogs, and likes. I'm overwhelmed with love, and I'm so thankful that people actually want to read more of what I write but anyways, enjoy!

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you all the way?" Your mother asked, squeezing your hand.

"I'll be fine," You caressed her hand, "I'm still your baby, though."

She laughed lightly, "Make sure to write always," She held your face with her hands, "Have fun; it's your last year."

You touched her hand on your cheek, "I will."

You hugged her one last time, taking in her scent. Every time you said bye to her, it was as sad as the first, without you crying and begging to stay.

"Okay," She smiled, taking her hands off your face, "Are you still sure you don't wanna wait for James here? I mean, you've done it all these years."

Little did she know, you had been ignoring James's letters, all 128 of them. He had been persistent, asking you what was wrong and begging for a reply to know you were safe.

You even received a letter from his mother, Euphemia Potter, asking how you were and everything was in Paris. You would never have it in your heart to ignore Ms. Potter, so you replied dutifully and happily.

And then you got a letter from him saying,

Dear Y/n,

Are you really going to reply to my mother and not me?

Sincerely,

Your BEST FRIEND, James Potter.

You didn't reply, scoffing at the bolded best friend. The last letter you received was last week, him telling you he couldn't wait to see you and wanted to talk as soon as he got to you.

Bullshit.

"Yeah," You gulped, "I'm just gonna meet him inside."

"Well, I'm sure he misses you," She started fixing your coat, "I mean, you have been in Paris all of this time, and I just think it would be good for you to-"

You cut her off, pecking her cheek, "Love you!" You yelled, going towards the train.

She shook her head, "Be safe!"

You smiled at her, going through the wall to the train. The feeling still felt the same, nostalgic. This was the last time boarding the train, and it felt sad.

You remembered the first time you ever boarded it. James was practically high on excitement on his first day at Hogwarts. You were scared out of your bloody mind, not wanting to leave your mum and dad.

When you had finally stopped crying and holding onto your mother's leg, James was the one to hold your hand and tell you that he would take care of you.

Maybe that was the first time you had realized James was more than a friend to you, or perhaps you were a naive child.

But either way, he was the one that you needed protecting from. You realized he hadn't been your friend since the fourth year.

But this year wasn't about James; it was about you having the best last year of Hogwarts that you could have ever had.

You boarded the train, moving through the compartments to where Marlene, Mary, Dorcas, and Lily usually were.

Compartment 222.

It was pretty lucky; it is where you guys first met.

You opened the compartment, "Did you guys miss me?"

They excitedly cheered, "Now tell me, Y/n, how many French boys did you end up shagging in France?" Marlene asked.

"I would say about thirty, oui oui." You joked in a French accent as they all started laughing.

You sat down next to Dorcas, giving her a side hug. You saw Lily and Mary whisper something to each other, to which Mary said, "Just say it!"

You could see Dorcas in the corner of your eye, shaking her head no aggressively. Apparently, Marlene was the only one not in the plan, continuing to look at her newsletter.

Your eyebrow raised, "Am I missing something?"

"It's really nothing," Lily nervously said.

"Okay, so what is it?" You laughed.

"Well," Lily fiddled with her fingers, "You know how you specifically requested that none of us tell James that you were replying to our letters and not purposely ignoring him."

You said, "Uhuh." Already knowing where this going.

"Well, I accidentally let it slip out over the letter you had spoken to Marlene and me." She admitted.

Your mouth agape, "Lily."

"I know, I know," She groaned, "It was a total accident."

"How do you accidentally slip something out over letter?" Marlene snorted, earning a glare from Lily, but she still looked at her newsletter.

"What did he say after?" You asked, kneading your forehead.

"Why is she ignoring me?" Lily answered, "I just said it was none of my business, nor was I involved."

The group stayed in silence, waiting for you to reply.

You sighed, thinking about how much James would bother you more now that he knew you ignored him.

"Are you mad at me?" Lily asked quietly.

"No, of course not," You smiled, looking at her, "I just don't want to talk to him and explain everything,"

"Who says you have to?" Mary asked.

You looked at her confused, "I just can't ignore him." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And why not?" Marlene asked, now looking at you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. You thought about it harder, and why wouldn't you be able to ignore James? Maybe it was hard because you have never done it before.

"So I just don't reply when he tries to talk to me?" You asked.

"Well, I don't support this, but," Lily started, "You could always just walk away when he says something to you."

"Wouldn't that be mean?" You asked.

"What did I tell you in person and in the letter?" Dorcas asked as you looked at her.

"Give him hell."

"So do it." She said.

They were right; you couldn't keep explaining to James what he did wrong; you just had to be done with him. You missed your friendship, but it took a turn years ago; you never said anything.

And you had to start not caring about him.

"So, how was your guy's summer?" You changed the subject, grinning as Marlene went on about how she perfected her Quidditch skills and would finally be the best chaser at Hogwarts.

Then Lily talked about her poetry that she started over the summer and how her sister had ripped a few of them, but she fixed them with a single swish of her wand and appreciated magic more.

Mary talked about how many soap operas she had seen and how she might even go into it after she graduates from Hogwarts.

Lastly, Dorcas talked about how this year was her year to be a seeker and how she got a whole book collection from her sister in New Zealand.

You began talking about how you tasted so many new foods and learned a bit of French, showing off your knowledge of the profound language.

You were interrupted by someone opening the compartment doors, "Hello," Remus greeted as you stood up to hug him immediately.

He caught you as you almost made him fall over by the movement, "Remmy, how much I have missed you," You said, kissing him on the cheek.

"And Y/n, how was France?" He asked, smiling.

"Quite a bore; every man was all over me; I was getting exhausted," You exhaled, sitting back in your seat.

"Well, if you ever want to get with a real man, I'm here, Y/n," Sirius said, nudging next to you as you looked disgusted.

"Did you have to bring him?" Dorcas asked Remus, rolling her eyes.

"He insisted," Remus shrugged.

"There needs to be some form of restraining order against him by all of us," Mary sighed.

"I thought his STDs were enough of a restraining order for us to keep away from him," Marlene teased.

Sirius interrupted before another insult could be made, "Ladies, this Sirius Black hate train is honestly starting to hurt," He pretended to be hurt.

"Aww, poor baby," You said in a baby voice, pinching his cheek as he swooshed your hand away.

"Now, Y/n, why are you ignoring poor Prongs?" Sirius asked as you wanted to throw him out of the train through the window.

"I thought he told you to dance around the question," Remus snorted.

Sirius disregarded, "What did my poor, stupid boy do this time?"

"I'm afraid it's none of your business, Black." You simply said.

"It is my business when my friend is sulking and bringing down my mood," He explained, "So why are you upset with him?" He asked.

Marlene abruptly laughed, "I'm sorry, but he really thought you would be the one Y/n would say something to,"

Sirius fake-laughed, "Oh McKinnon, I'll be laughing like that when you fall off of your arse on the field,"

Marlene mocked his facial expression as he did the same thing to her.

"May I please just arrive in peace without one word of James Potter? I'm begging." You reasoned.

"Well, at least I can tell him I tried and that Moony was no help." He glared at Remus.

"I told you I wasn't going to talk to her for him; it was all up to you," Remus said as Sirius went outside, and Remus waved everyone goodbye before closing the doors.

You could already tell it was going to be a long year.

After finally sorting the first year, everyone was allowed to dine. One thing you always missed about Hogwarts was the fantastic food; it was always incredible.

You were sitting in between Remus and Dorcas when Remus abruptly got up.

"Where are you going?" You asked, mid-laugh from a joke Marlene had made about Dumbledore and McGonagall in their secret chamber.

"Don't kill me," Remus stated before leaving. You looked confused, and James took the spot in front of you. You rolled your eyes, turning back to your meal.

"Please talk to me, Y/n," James pleaded.

You continued to stay silent, not even giving him a look as you looked at Marlene. She shook her head, and you continued to eat.

"I just wanna know what I did," James begged.

When you still didn't respond, he grabbed ahold of your wrist in an attempt for you to look at him.

"Don't fucking touch me." You spat before getting up and leaving the dining hall, telling your friends you were just gonna meet them in the dorm.

You tried rushing to the common room, but James was behind you.

"Y/n!" He yelled, speed-walking after you.

You continued to ignore him, going to the common room until you were stuck with the singing lady at the door who would not give it a rest.

"You have to talk to me," James demanded while the lady continued to screech.

"I don't have to do a thing you say," You scoffed, "In fact, I would prefer if you screwed off and stopped talking to me."

You went to one of the corridors, trying to escape him, but he followed you.

"Can't you just explain to me what I could've done for you to treat me like this?" He said roughly.

You turned to him, "There is not a single, simple explanation of what you could've done; there is a book of things," You snapped, "And treat you like this? Ever since I fucking stepped foot into your life, you have continued to treat me like shit." You stepped closer, "I stuck with you despite Lily, despite what other people said, and despite what you have shown me."

He continued to stay silent, "And now that I finally stick up for myself, I've done you horribly? Bullshit." You spat, "You have continued to show me exactly why I will never ever love you again, and yeah, for a matter of fact, I did love you, but you don't deserve me and never will."

Your words shocked him, not being able to mutter a word.

"Now you have nothing to say?" You manically laughed, "The smooth-talking and fantastic golden boy that shocked the century has nothing to say? What a pathetic-"

He kissed you suddenly precipitously, his tongue entering your mouth, entangling with yours.

For a second, you were drunk on his mouth, engaging with his kiss with as much passion as he gave you. His hand pulls on your hair lightly, making you moan.

His lips went from your mouth to your neck, sucking hard, red marks into your skin, knowing it would bruise.

Then you remembered everything. You remembered James's bitter words, his voice mocking you, and the boys laughing in the locker room.

You pushed his hard chest off you, breathing hard from the whole interaction. He looked at you, breathing as hard as you; realizing what he had done, he tried to touch your hand, but you pushed him again.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, "You're such an asshole," You cried, going to the Gryffindor common room.

You rushed up the stairs, immediately going into your bed. You couldn't believe what had just happened.

A part of you wanted to be grateful, grateful that you pushed him off, and realized that he only wanted to be with you when he felt convenient.

Another part of you wanted to continue kissing him, laughing with him, hugging him. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you had never figured it would be painful.

What if you had loved James for so long that you didn't know anything but to love him?

It was stupid and pathetic.

You were tired of being stupid and pathetic, you just wanted to move on from James Potter and get away from him, and if that wasn't possible, you had to make him regret being friends with you in the first place.

So you did.

You got up fresh and early in the morning when all of your roommates were sleeping, taking a shower immediately.

You looked in the mirror, your mascara smudged and dark red and purple hickies wearing your skin. You placed a shit-load of powder and concealer to cover up the parts you could.

You tried several spells to cover it up as best as possible, changing into your uniform.

You slipped into the most showing tights you could and wore your skirt from the fifth year that you so obviously outgrew, showing almost your ass cheeks.

You would be thankful not to get a write-up from McGonagall.

You unbuttoned two buttons off the top of your shirt, showing a tiny bit of your bra. It wasn't the most rebellious or seductive, but it could work.

The first challenge of that day was Potions; all of your friends were there, including all of the Marauders. But, thanks to Merlin was also Jacob Carrow's class, the Slytherin Captain that James hated with a burning passion.

They both could not be in the same room without spitting a hateful insult at the other. James once had a dream that you and Jacob had gone out, and he refused to talk to you for an entire day until you convinced him you would never do that.

You never considered yourself a liar.

The only problem was that Jacob was a dickhead, but so was James. You were surprised they didn't get along, maybe in another life.

You went inside Potions with your friend group, and you spotted Jacob Carrow in the back with an empty seat next to him as you told your friends you were gonna sit in the back.

You were thankful none of his friends were around him; it would be ten times more unbearable.

You sat next to him with a wide grin painted on your face, trying not to show your pain.

"Sitting next to me, Y/n?" He smirked, "I thought you were Potter's little puppy."

You tried to ignore your annoyance, "Pets tend to lean away from their owner at points; I guess that's my case." You shrugged.

"I am no Potter; I don't like having little girls follow me and do my shit for me." You could tell he was insulting you, but you stood tall.

"Good thing girls don't like to be in your presence." You snickered.

He smiled, "Love a kitty with claws," He leaned into his chair, "What do you want?"

"Do I have to want something?" You asked, popping your chest out to show your tits as he looked down at your face.

"You finally trying to make your boy toy jealous?" He asked.

You dropped the facade, "Are you gonna help me or not?"

"Control the temper, baby; I just wanna know what's in it for me." His body faced you.

"Isn't James being angry enough?" You asked.

"Nah, I can piss off Potter by just existing." He replied.

"What do you want?" You asked, half-annoyed.

"Meadows on a date with me."

You laughed, "Dorcas would never go on a date with you."

"Then no deal." He said with a fake smile.

"Ugh, fine, I'll talk to her if you just make James's life hell for a few minutes." You said.

"Okay, deal." He smiled, "Do you want me to touch you or,"

"Sure, but don't overdo it." You warned.

"I love when you flatter yourself." He said as James walked in, laughing with the Marauders.

Jacob immediately placed a hand on your thigh, slightly higher than preferred, but you continued smiling.

You started fake-laughing at Jacob's joke, which immediately caught James's attention. You looked behind you, and James's head looked like it would explode.

You looked back at Carrow, touching his shoulder and admiring how much muscle he had.

"What else do you want me to do?" He said through his teeth.

"I'll scoot closer to you, and you can put your hand on my waist." You suggested as he nodded.

You faced the front as Jacob touched your waist, tickling you with his fingers as you laughed.

"Mind keeping it down?" James scowled, "Not everyone wants to fucking hear that shit."

"How about you piss off, Potter?" Jacob mocked as he gripped your waist tighter, which pissed off James even more.

Before James could say another word, Slughorn started the class.

Throughout the class, Jacob would squeeze your thigh or tickle you, almost rising to touch your tits. Whenever he did those actions, you would giggle, earning daggers from James.

Once Slughorn instructed everyone to look inside their microscopes at the different ingredients used in Veritaserum, you took the opportunity to sit on Jacob's lap, looking in the microscope as he bounced you with his knee, causing you to laugh.

This really pissed James off, him storming up to you both. He grabbed your arm, practically flying you off of Jacob.

"Mr. Potter!" Slughorn yelled as the class watched the entire thing.

"Don't you dare fucking touch her," James said brusquely.

Jacob scoffed, "What will you do about it, Potter?" He stood, going closer to James.

You rolled your eyes due to the amount of testosterone in this conversation.

James got closer as you grabbed his hand, pushing him back, "Stop it." You said to him as he looked at you.

He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the classroom to an abandoned bathroom.

"James, let go of me!" You yelled as he pushed you inside the bathroom.

He was fuming, and you could tell which scared you. You hadn't seen him this angry since he lost a Quidditch match against the very man's lap you were on.

"You dragged me in here, so is there something you have to say?" You looked at him angrily, hands on your hips.

"Us not being friends anymore doesn't allow you to be a slut," He ridiculed.

You slapped him, "Don't you fucking dare call me a slut; I can do whatever the fuck I want,"

He wiped his mouth with a smile, "You think he gives a shit about you? He would fuck you and then dump you." He said as he moved closer, and you backed up.

"You don't know a thing," You replied nervously.

"He wouldn't even clean you up after," He continued, "He would let you rot there like a slut," Another step closer, which you took backward. You didn't understand if he purposely tried to intimidate or lecture you.

He didn't stop.

"He would tell all of his friends after," Another step, "He wouldn't dare spare you a minute after," Another step, "You would mean nothing," You were backed into the wall now, "But it's okay because you can do whatever the fuck you want."

"James." You kept eye contact with him, his eyes beaming into yours.

His mouth lowered to your ear, "But I think you want me to give a shit; you wanna see me mad." His hand snaked to your waist, "I guess you win." His body left yours, storming out of the bathroom.

Did you really win?

A/N: Y/n: 2, James 0??? There is also an alternate chapter to this because I couldn't stop writing two plots LOL.

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natsukicookies · 2 months ago

Text

The sinful allure

Summary

What you thought was the life of a side character turned out to be the life of the main character!

On your 18th birthday, you discover you're a succubus, and everything you thought you knew about yourself changes.

What’s more, your newfound powers don’t just come with supernatural abilities—they make you act... different. Flirty, confident, and completely unlike your usual shy self.

As if that wasn’t enough, the Batboys have somehow gotten tangled in your life. Balancing secrets, powers, and the chaos they bring? Yeah, happy birthday to you.

< masterlist > chap 1

Your eyes couldn’t leave your phone’s screen as they were locked onto the calendar app. You eyed a specific date with barely contained anticipation noticing that your birthday was approaching. In just a few days, you would turn 18. You were finally going to be an adult. You weren't sure if you felt excited or anxious-maybe a little of both.

With a sigh, you tried to focus back on the teacher's lecture, though your mind was elsewhere.

Turning 18 meant you'd finally be the same age as everyone else in your year.

The class ended, before you realise that, whatever the teacher spoke went in one ear and out the other, Fantastic! Now you were clueless about the chapter and would have to head to the library to study. "Just amazing," you muttered sarcastically under your breath.

As you left the classroom, someone bumped into you in a hurry. "Sorry!" the guy called out as he rushed past. You recognized him instantly-Tim Drake, one of Bruce Wayne's adopted sons, and one of the richest guys in Gotham.

He's one of the 3rd years, in the computer science major, same as you. The two of you even share some of your classes. And yet despite this.

You hadn't talked to him, or really to anyone at this college if you were to be honest. You were more of an introvert... wait, don’t introverts also have friends, but you didn't. A small laugh escaped you at the thought.

It wasn't always like this though,. You used to have friends, but then COVID happened, and all your social skills vanished. There wasn’t much to begin with, but it dropped to zero after that.

And iIf that wasn't bad enough, your mom got transferred to another city for her work, and guess what? It was Gotham City, the crime capital. Thankfully, the one year you'd spent here had been normal,well as normal as it could be in Gotham.

Being suddenly moved, in the middle of your last year of high school mind you, wasn't great. By the time you arrived everyone had their own friend groups, and you didn't fit into any of them. Your lack of social skills not helping either.

High school came and went, college started, but your chances of making friends? Nope, that still seemed like a pipe dream that would never happen.

You headed to your next class, passing the art club where you overheard people talking about Damian Wayne.

Another Wayne? You rolled your eyes at the name. You weren't really fond of the rich kids- most of them weren't great.

But then again, this was Gotham State University, and a lot of rich kids were here. To this day, you still had no idea how your mom managed to get you into this college. Did her job really pay that much? Definitely not.

Not caring much about it, you took a seat in an empty spot and watched the day fly by.

That was your norm- going to college, judge people,head home to do your course work and other stuff, then repeat, it was a cycle

It was seriously boring.

Guess that's the life of a side character for you.

Your attention shifted as you heard your name being called by your mom. "Are you still wearing that pendant?" Of course, that was the question she always asked. You knew her obsession with that pendant all too well. Whenever you were asked, she would respond with, "You must wear that pendant forever and never take it off, even for a second."

At this point, you were used to it, but still, her asking the same question every week for years kind of got on your nerves. "Yes, Mom, I am." You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you continued to watch TV.

Your mom did her usual routine, reminding you not to open the door for strangers (typical mom) and telling you what food was in the refrigerator before heading off to work.

Your mom was hardly home; like 90% of the time, she was at work. You didn't blame her for that now that you were older. She was a single mom working hard to support both of you.

Well, you tried not to blame her, at least. But there were still those moments.

Now the movie you were watching didn't seem fun anymore because of those thoughts. Cursing under your breath, you turned off the TV and headed to your room, passing by the mirror.

Stopping in your tracks and stepping back, you stared at your reflection. You looked normal; nothing seemed out of place, but you could have sworn you saw something whilst walking past it.

You shrugged it off and went to your room, chalking it up to your imagination.

The next few days went by and it's the night before your birthday. You're alone in the house, because of course your mom has work to take care of.

The next few days passed in a blur, and soon it was the night before your birthday. You were alone in the house, of course, since your mom had to work -again.

You were her only child, yet she didn't even have time for your 18th birthday. "Amazing mom," you muttered, trying to push down the bitterness creeping in. You scrolled aimlessly through your phone, distracting yourself from the thoughts swirling in your mind.

You watched the clock hit 11:48 and decided you might as well get that cupcake out and blow some candles- that's the only thing you can blow anyway.

As you moved around the kitchen, you kept catching glimpses of strange things out of the corner of your eye-like objects floating slightly before settling down. But every time you turned, everything seemed perfectly normal.

You shook your head, Maybe you were getting sleepy? You really hoped that was the case because you were not up for a ghost fight on your birthday.

By the time you set up the cupcake, the clock read 11:58. Just two more minutes, and you'd officially be 18- meaning you won't be able to use your 'sir I'm a minor' card but hey, you could at least legally drink wine now... if you could afford any.

You quickly lit up the candle and waited till the clock hit 12

"Happy birthday to me" you wished right on midnight as you closed your eyes to blow out the candle "I hope for a change this year"

Opening your eyes expecting to see the same old living room only to be met with a pair of bloody red eyes staring at you from High up.

A wave of fear washed over you making your body freeze. As you took in your surroundings, you were indeed not in your living room anymore. This wasn’t what you meant when you wished for a change this year...

"Worry not, my child," a deep voice echoed. you can't see its face or what it is, all you see is a shadow like figure on a throne which was placed on.... your eyes widened as you realized it was human skulls.

Oh you were a goner, you just knew it.

"You are not a goner" Did he- guessing by the voice- read your thoughts? You weren't even gonna question how, none of this was making sense so it's better to just not use the logical side of your brain and just roll with it.

"You must have a lot of questions," he spoke, amusement clear in his voice, as he rested his cheek on his hand.

You nodded, you definitely did.

"Good, let's add one more" he pointed at you, more specifically at your clothes.

"Huh?" You looked down and felt your face heat up. Your outfit wasn't the one you'd been wearing-it was something much more revealing, leaving you scrambling to cover yourself with your hands.

"What is going on?" you stammered, cheeks flushed.

The figure burst into laughter, seeming to enjoy your reaction a little too much. Finally, after calming down, he explained.

According to him, you were a succubus. A... what now?!

And hence the reason for things floating around in the air and you seeing stuff in the mirror.

Did it make sense? No, absolutely not. Was he gonna explain more? It didn't seem like it.

"So you’re saying.... that I have to have.... sex with.... guys now?" you asked, cutting to the question weighing on your mind

"Girls work too," he replied you could hear the smirk from his tone.

Your jaw dropped at his casual response. "Girls work too"? This was insane. You barely managed to talk to people as it was, and now you were expected to seduce them? The thought alone made you want to dig a hole and hide in it.

"So, let me get this straight," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You're telling me that, overnight, I turned into... a succubus. And now I have to... you know... with people? Just to survive?"

The shadow figure leaned back in his throne, still smirking. "That's the short version, yes. But it's not quite as dire as you're imagining." He seemed amused, as if he could see the whirlwind of emotions playing out on your face. "You'll get used to it. Besides, a succubus's charm is automatic. Your appeal will increase naturally, even without you trying."

You blinked, taking a shaky breath. This was all too much. "But why me? Why now? I've gone my whole life without... without feeling like this."

"That's the way it works," he said simply. "Eighteen is the age when your powers awaken. And now that they have, you'll start to feel new urges and... influences."

Influences? That didn't sound reassuring.

"Here's how it works," he continued, clearly enjoying your unease. "When you're in your succubus form, your personality will shift to help you attract... let's say, energy sources. You won't even recognize yourself. And in your regular form, you'll be-"

"Shy and quiet?" you guessed dryly, crossing your arms over your revealing outfit. "Because that's how I normally am."

"Precisely," he replied, giving you an almost fatherly nod. "But in your other form, you'll become... well, let's call it 'confident.' All of this will be second nature soon enough."

This wasn't exactly reassuring, but you nodded, still struggling to process everything. Then a thought struck you, and you bit your lip. "So... if I need energy, does that mean I... you know... with anyone who-"

"Relax," he cut in smoothly. "You don't have to go that far if you're not comfortable with it. Succubi draw energy in a lot of ways: touch, presence, even just eye contact. What matters is connection. The deeper the connection, the stronger the energy you receive."

You let out a sigh of relief. That, at least, took some pressure off. But even then, none of this felt remotely possible for you.

"How will I even know when to... when to switch forms or get energy? I have no idea what I'm doing!"

The figure let out an amused chuckle "Ah, but that's the fun of it, isn't it? You'll learn as you go. The instincts are within you, even if they're dormant right now. When you need them, they'll surface."

He rose from his throne, the shadowy shape growing even larger as he seemed to loom over you. "And remember, child," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "You have a gift. Use it wisely-and sparingly. Too much charm, too quickly, could draw attention... and not the good kind."

With that final ominous warning, he snapped his fingers, and the room around you began to swirl and blur, as if reality itself was being pulled out from under your feet.

Before you could react, you found yourself back in your living room, alone and staring at the cupcake in front of you, the candle still flickering.

You blinked, heart racing. "Did that... really happen?"

Just then, your phone buzzed, snapping you back to reality. A birthday text from your mom.

You ignored the message and blew out the candle, the excitement from earlier completely drained. As you reached out to remove the candle, you froze. Your clothes... they hadn't changed back to normal.

So, that really did happen...

Heart pounding, you ran to the mirror. Standing in front of it, you realized two things. First: you actually looked... really hot. And second: your appearance had changed. Your eyes were now a striking pink, and small, barely-there horns peeked out from the top of your head.

Curious, you reached up to touch one of them- only to let out a surprised whine. Sensitive. Those little horns were tiny but extremely sensitive.

"How do I change back to normal?" you muttered with a nervous laugh,thinking of every scenario this could go wrong.

Shoulders slumping, you trudged back to your cupcake, peeled off the wrapper, and stuffed the whole thing into your mouth. You probably looked like a chipmunk, but who cared? You had bigger problems-like, for instance, the horns or the bright pink eyes.

As you chewed, you couldn't help but wonder who-or what-that shadowy figure was. He seemed to know way more than he was letting on.

But... how exactly were you supposed to summon him again? You tried doing a strange little "summoning dance," waving your arms around in a circle, but nothing happened.

Wait a second. Weren't succubus supposed to have superpowers? That would be amazing! You'd always wanted powers like Superman or Wonder Woman.

The real problem was... how on earth were you supposed to activate these so-called powers?

Stepping out onto the balcony, you stared at... the wall across from you. Not the most inspiring view-just the brick wall of the building next door, practically in arm's reach. You let out a sigh. "Well, it's not like I'm swinging across rooftops anytime soon," you muttered.

Still... maybe you could try something. Like super strength! Or maybe some kind of powerful leap? Not that you were about to actually jump off the balcony- you weren't that reckless, but if you had powers, how were you supposed to... what, think power on? Activate?

You stretched your arms forward dramatically. "Powers, activate!" Nothing happened. You waved your hands around a bit, wiggled your fingers, even struck a ridiculous pose for good measure. Nada.

"Well, that's disappointing," you grumbled, heading back inside quietly before anyone saw you looking like a wannabe superhero.

Or so you tried to-until you stepped right onto that one loose board on the balcony. The next thing you knew, your ankle twisted in the ridiculously high heels that came with this outfit, and suddenly, you were tilting forward with nothing to grab onto.

And just like that, you found yourself tumbling over the edge.

"Oh, crap! Crap, crap, crap!" you screamed in panic as you fall from the third floor, arms flailing like a bird that had no idea how to fly.

Your mind raced in pure panic as the ground rushed closer. 'This is it' you thought. You just became a succubus and You're about to be a splat on the pavement. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for impact.

But... it never came.

Instead, you felt a strange pull at your core, and you slowed down, hovering just a few feet above the ground. You opened your eyes cautiously, and sure enough, you were floating there mid-air, bobbing slightly like a very confused balloon.

You blinked, stunned. "Did I... just fly?"

Testing it out, you tried to move forward. You wobbled awkwardly, managing to drift a few feet before tilting sideways, nearly tipping over. Okay, this was gonna take some practice.

Still floating, you managed to get back up to your balcony, though not without a few embarrassing bumps along the way.-we don't talk about that- When you finally got back over the railing and landed safely, you let out a deep breath, half-relieved, half-excited.

"So I have powers," you muttered, grinning in spite of yourself.

And behold, this was the moment a very dumb idea went through your head. Did I mention it was dumb? Because, yeah, it was very dumb.

Without a second thought, you decided you might as well check out Gotham at night. Hey, it was a great excuse to test out your powers, right?

With that brilliant thought in mind, you stepped onto the railing of your balcony and, this time, willingly jumped off. Floating in midair, you felt that thrill again-flying was actually getting easier! Or, so you thought. One glance to the left, and suddenly you were veering off course, wobbling wildly as you struggled to stay steady.

You almost crashed right into the huge Wayne Enterprises billboard, narrowly avoiding it by flailing your arms and kicking your legs like a panicked duck.

You found yourself butt-landing onto a fire escape, the metal steps clanging loud enough to make you wince. So much for a graceful first flight.

"Ow," you muttered, rubbing your sore backside. At least you didn't end up face-first in a dumpster. That was something, right?

You pushed yourself up, dusted off, and looked around to make sure no one had seen that very professional landing.

Thankfully, this part of Gotham is usually empty half the time, sparing you from total embarrassment.

You considered that maybe flying wasn't the best idea after all, so you opted for the stairs instead-only to regret that decision a second later.

Those metal stairs combined with your high, pointy heels-which you had no idea how you managed to walk in-were a disaster waiting to happen. Your heels kept getting stuck in the small gaps between the stairs, turning what should have been a simple task into a clumsy game of balance.

Somehow, you managed to get down the stairs and stayed in the shadows, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. As you walked, you stumbled upon what appeared to be a bank robbery.

The bank was small, tucked away in a shady area-no wonder there were no police around. Let's be honest: the police in Gotham really don't do shit anyway. And God knows where vigilantes were...

You gripped the little clothing you had on, your feet glued to the floor-not because of the metal stairs this time, but out of sheer hesitation.

Here's the thing: you may have newfound powers, but you weren't a vigilante. You had no idea how to fight or even how to use your abilities yet. Rushing in recklessly to save people you didn't even know? Not the best plan.

Plus, Batman or one of his allies would probably show up and handle the situation, right?

That was the plan, right...?

Then a loud scream echoed through the air, followed by a gunshot, and your heart stopped. Someone could be dead right now, and you had the power to save them.

But you weren't a vigilante; you were merely a succubus, a very new one too.

"Go," a calm but familiar voice echoed in your ear, and before you could process what was happening, you found yourself sprinting toward the bank. Peering through the windows, you spotted three masked men holding a few bank staff hostage. Luckily, there weren't any customers inside-thankfully, they were closed for the night.

If you remembered correctly, the shadow figure had mentioned that you had the ability to charm people. Maybe that could come in handy?

Glancing around, you searched for a way in. The front door was clearly not an option, and as you walked around the building, you didn't find a back door either. But then, you spotted it: a bathroom window just large enough for you to squeeze through.

Were you seriously about to do this?

You took a deep breath, letting the anticipation wash over you. "You're supposed to do crazy things on your 18th birthday, right?" With an awkward laugh, you opened the window and began to climb in-only to find yourself stuck halfway through, your legs kicking awkwardly as you tried to free yourself.

"Yeah no I'm not going to end up being the stuck stepsister of the night," you muttered, finally wriggling yourself free and tumbling into the small bathroom with a thud.

You glanced around, taking a moment to catch your breath. "Okay, focus," you whispered to yourself.

It seemed the loud thud had caught the attention of one of the thieves, and the door swung open to reveal one of them standing in front of you, gun in hand.

"Um..." you stammered awkwardly, standing there like a deer caught in headlights. How were you supposed to charm this guy again?

You tried winking-after all, that's what people do to charm someone, right?

"Who the fuck are you?" he growled, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation.

Yep, that didn't work at all. You were definitely done for.

"I... I'm just a girl," you blurted out, trying to sound as harmless as possible.

But instead of calming him down, your words seemed to fuel his anger. He raised the gun and fired, but thankfully, you managed to duck just in time, letting out a small scream as you covered your head with your arms.

"Actually... you don't look so bad," he said, his eyes darkening as he sized you up with a new, unsettling interest.

You cringed at his words, hearing his footsteps approach as he towered over your crouched form. Just as he leaned in to grab you, you shot up, your head colliding with his chin. He staggered backward and dropped to the floor, completely knocked out.

Wait... did that actually work? That hadn't exactly been your plan, but hey, you weren't complaining.

Seeing him sprawled out on the ground made you feel a spark of confidence. You grinned and stepped over his unconscious form, making sure to grind your heel into the hand that had nearly grabbed you. "Oh," you muttered, noticing his gun. Quickly, you grabbed it-you might need a little extra help.

Alright, one down, two more to go.

Peeking out the door, you saw one of the other robbers tapping his foot impatiently. "What's taking that idiot so long?" he grumbled, glancing around.

Most of the bank staff were tied up, while two unlucky ones were filling a bag with cash at gunpoint. You bit your lip, trying to think. Maybe you could lure one of them away? You definitely can't two men at once, especially since this was your first time.

"Where are the vigilantes when you need them?" you mumbled, pressing your face into your palm in frustration. "If only I could turn invisible..."

Suddenly, you noticed your hand start to go translucent. You stared, wide-eyed, as the rest of your body began fading too. "I'm not freaking out... I'm not freaking out... I'm freaking out!" you whispered to yourself, resisting the urge to yell.

You'd wanted to turn invisible, but this was surreal-like being a ghost!

Were you going to complain? Absolutely not. After your momentary panic, a wicked grin spread across your face. you rubbed your hands together like a fly- wait why like a fly?

You crept out of the door without a sound, approaching one of the robbers. With a swift punch to his face, he crumpled to the ground, catching the attention of his partner. Before he could react, you followed up with a well-placed kick to his...pp area. Both men went down, groaning on the floor.

Quickly, you gathered their weapons, but after glancing around, you realized you didn't have any rope or anything to tie them up with. Letting out a sigh, you began thinking of your next move, when your ears picked up stood steps approaching.

It seems your senses have been improved.

The front doors burst open, and a vigilante strode in. You quietly tiptoed to the side, raising an eyebrow. What kind of hero just barges in through the front door? You rolled your eyes, watching as he surveyed the scene in confusion.

Just as you thought you could slip out, he whipped out a baton and threw it your way. "Wha-!" You barely managed to dodge it, shooting him side eyes.

"Can't have you sneaking away now, can I?" he said smoothly, his gaze following your movement. Wait... could he see you? You glanced down, still invisible. How did he know?

Picking your jaw off the floor, you started to say something, but quickly changed your mind. He was nightwing, trained by Batman himself, so of course he'd sense someone was there.

You let out a small sigh and turned off your invisibility, meeting his now slightly widened eyes. He recovered quickly, though, looking unfazed.

"There's one unconscious in the bathroom," you said confidently, gesturing with a nod toward the door.

He glanced down at the two men on the ground, too dazed to move. "You... did all this?"

You nodded, but before he could ask another question, you bolted toward the door-or at least, you tried to. Just as you were about to step outside, his hand shot out, grabbing you firmly and stopping you in your tracks.

"Ah-!" you squeaked, pausing with a pout. "I'm not a villain," you insisted, crossing your arms with as much indignation as you could muster.

He raised an eyebrow. "Then who are you?"

You blinked, holding his gaze, before a mischievous smirk spread across your face. Your eyes glowed a little more pink as you leaned in, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "The girl who's going to haunt your dirtiest dreams."

Before he could even react, you somehow slipped out of his grip, leaving him standing there bewildered as you sprinted out of the bank.

Not looking back, you floated all the way back to your apartment, bumping into things left and right. Each impact made you cringe a little harder-not just from the bumps, but from the embarrassing line you'd dropped earlier. "The girl who will appear in your dirtiest dream?" Seriously? You wanted to disappear just thinking about it.

As soon as you got inside, you headed straight for the couch, burying your face in a pillow with a groan. The scene replayed in your head on a loop for a good 30 minutes before you finally managed to shift your focus to something else: how on earth to turn back to normal.

Rolling onto your side, you caught a glint of something under the coffee table. Reaching out lazily, you pulled it closer and realized it was the pendant-the one you were supposed to keep on you at all times. Without thinking, you slipped it back around your neck.

And just like that, your clothes transformed back to normal.

You rushed over to the mirror and sure enough, you looked like yourself again-mostly. Your eyes still held a slight hint of pink, but you doubted anyone would notice.

Curious, you decided to test your theory. Taking off the pendant, you watched as the tiny horns reappeared. So that was the trick!

"Oh, cool" you mumbled under your breath, putting it back on.

Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing off, or the sheer chaos of tonight catching up with you, but you felt yourself teetering on the edge of exhaustion, just one step away from crashing right there in the living room.

But no-somehow, you managed to scrape together the last bit of energy to drag yourself toward your bedroom. Your steps were slow, heavy, almost zombie-like. If anyone saw you now, they might actually mistake you for the undead, stumbling down the hall with only the thought of collapsing on your bed keeping you moving.

You let out a tired sigh, replaying flashes of the night in your mind. The discovery, the thrill, the whole insane twist your life took in just a few short hours. And now...you were supposed to go back to normal? Act like this was just another day at college?

Flopping onto your bed, you closed your eyes, leaving the problems to the future you to deal with as you let the sleep fairy take you to the dreamland.

Yall thank @purplexing-writing-and-concepts for beta reading it <33

I have no idea when chap 1 will be out, hopefully in a month or so.

✎ ∙︓⋅⠄✯∘⠄✧

Taglist: @xingyunny @4rachn3

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merrybloomwrites · 4 months ago

Text

The Only Way of Knowing You (Chapter 3)

Story Summary: After a chance encounter, Y/N finds herself on a series of dates with Harry Styles. She shares with him her innocence regarding physical intimacy, and he takes his responsibility in teaching her all about that very seriously.

Chapter Summary: After a number of weeks dating Harry, Y/N is ready to take the next step physically. He guides her through her first couple of intimate experiences in a way that has her falling deeper and deeper for him.

Word Count: 5.5K

CW: thigh riding, handjob, fingering

AN: First bit of smut! I feel like I should warn that while the rest of the chapters (3-5) are smutty, they’re not exactly spicy. Since reader is very innocent the story is more Harry teaching her so its definitely more like, awkward and endearing than sexy haha

——————

After a few weeks, numerous dates, and plenty of innocent kisses, today might finally be the day you experience more.

Over the past few weeks you’ve gotten to spend plenty of quality time with Harry. It’s been wonderful just getting to know him and grow closer together. Your relationship is strong, you’ve both started to really trust and depend on each other.

And while all of the time spent talking and hanging out has been fantastic, you can’t help but think about the more physical side of a relationship. You’re more than ready to take it up a notch, whatever that may be.

Harry had driven you home from a few dates, and you hadn’t asked him to come in again. Not yet.

But today, as the two of you sat at a local park eating ice cream and enjoying the warm spring air, you made the decision to ask again. You hope he’ll understand that this means you’re ready.

As always, he walks you to your door. Before he can lean in for a goodbye peck, you say, “Would you like to come inside?”

“I would love to,” he answers, having noticed your hopeful expression. You unlock the door and he follows you inside. You stop briefly in the kitchen to grab water for each of you then lead him to the living room.

You sit on one end of the couch and he does the same on the opposite side. He’s as far from you as possible. And that’s just not going to work. But you’re nervous. Unsure of how to make the first move. You desperately wish he would take control, but you don’t know how to say that.

Instead, you ask, “Do you want to watch a movie?” It’s painfully obvious what you’re trying to do, but he doesn’t call you out on it, just replies, “Sounds like a great idea.”

Of course that means you now have to choose a movie. Luckily, the two of you quickly settle on a romcom, one you’ve both seen before. Which is perfect, because you hope you won’t actually be watching the whole thing. You’d love it if there was some sort of distraction in the form of Harry.

The movie starts and a few minutes later you get up to make popcorn. When you get back you sit down on the middle cushion, noticeably closer to Harry. His small smirk tells you he knows exactly what you’re doing.

There’s definite tension in the air, an electric charge that’s both exciting and nerve wracking. You’re hyper aware of Harry next to you, noticing every time he so much as shifts a finger.

And then he finally makes a move. Kind of. Maybe the start of a move. Harry raises his arm and rests it on the back of the couch behind you. He’s not technically touching you, but his fingertips graze lightly on your arm every now and then. It’s enough to drive you crazy, teasing you to no end.

Eventually you gain some confidence and slide closer so that your sides are touching. Finally, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you in close to him.

Turning to look at Harry, your breath catches in your throat as you see him already watching you. He smiles gently at you, and his eyes glance to your lips. You smile softly in return, and as though it’s slow motion, he begins to learn towards you.

Your tongue darts out quickly, licking your lips just before Harry’s mouth meets yours. As always, it’s soft, his mouth plush and gentle. But this time he doesn’t pull away after one kiss. He turns slightly, his lips moving against yours in a way that you know will quickly become addicting.

After a few minutes of sliding your mouths together, you feel his lips part. You follow his lead, opening your mouth slightly to deepen the kiss. Finally his tongue slides into your mouth, just a little bit, enough to tease and make you want more.

He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. He notices your expression, how calm and serene you look.

“C’mere,” he says, voice low and gravelly. His hand gently grips your leg, his skin meeting yours, sliding just under the hem of your sundress. He helps you shift so that you’re seated in his lap straddling one of his thighs. You don’t quite settle, keeping some distance between your bodies. Harry’s hands slide back up to your face, holding your cheeks as he leans in for another passionate kiss.

When he deepens the kiss once more, you start to feel something in your belly. It feels warm, and tingly, and you become antsy, like you need to move or else you may explode. Your body moves, and you don’t even realize what’s happening. You lower your hips until your center is directly on Harry’s firm thigh.

A new feeling jolts through your body at the contact, and you pull back with a gasp. You look at Harry, confusion obviously written all over your face.

“It’s okay, love,” he says to reassure you.

Your brow furrows even more and you ask, “What was that?”

Now it’s his turn to be confused and he says, “What was what?”

“That feeling. When I uhm-”

“When you grinded on my leg?” He says, smirk back on his face. You flush, and without making you answer he continues, “Have you ever come before?”

“Come? Come where?”

He laughs, and you duck your head, embarrassed by how naive you are. He moves your hair out of your face and ducks as well to meet your eyes. “I don’t mean to laugh at you. You’re very endearing. What I meant to ask is have you ever had an orgasm before?”

“Oh. No, I haven’t,” you answer honestly.

“You haven’t even had one just from touching yourself?”

“Harry, masturbation is a sin,” you reply.

He’s taken aback by this response and you quickly laugh to show you’re not serious.

“It’s what I was taught when I was younger,” you continue. “And then when I got older and realized that was ridiculous I tried a couple times. But I never actually felt anything so I just gave up. Wait, was that an orgasm?”

“Not quite, love. That was pleasure which can build into an orgasm,”

“Oh,” you say.

He leans in for a sweet kiss. “Can I show you? Help you feel good? Will you let me do that?”

Your whole body grows hot at this question, and you simply nod.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes, Harry. Can you show me?”

“Of course. C’mere,” he says as his hands go to your hips. He gently presses down until your panty-covered pussy meets his jeans-clad thigh. There’s a spark again and Harry says, “Just do what feels natural. I’ll help, but you should follow your body's instincts. It might be a bit strange at first, and we’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable, but it will lead to pleasure if we do it right. Okay?”

“Okay,” you reply as you lean back in for another kiss. It quickly grows heated once again, Harry’s tongue sliding along yours. You quickly feel that heated, restless feeling and press down on Harry’s leg.

His strong hands grip your sides and he encourages you to move. You begin to slide on his leg, going back and forth the way Harry leads you. As the pressure builds in your tummy you break away from the kiss in order to take in a gasping breath.

“Doing so good, baby. Just take what you need,” Harry says to encourage you. He presses kisses to your head before moving down. His lips ghost against your neck and suddenly the feeling in your core grows.

You begin to lose the rhythm that Harry had helped you with, your hips not frantically moving of their own accord as you chase the feeling building in you. Harry kisses your neck, just under your ear and the feeling inside of you explodes.

Your breath comes out as harsh pants as waves of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Harry soothes you through it, rubbing his hands over your skin as he murmurs sweet words.

When the intense feeling starts to subside you begin to grow self conscious of what just happened. You hide your face in Harry’s neck, and while he’d rather be able to see your face right now, he understands what you’re feeling.

“You did so good, baby,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Uhm, good? I think?”

“I understand. It’s a lot huh?”

“It felt like, hot all over? But not bad. I liked it,” you say shyly.

“I’m glad. I promise, this is nothing to be scared of. I know it’s all new, but it’s good. As I said before, we’ll go at your pace as we add in different things.”

“Thank you for being so understanding, Harry. It really means a lot. Makes me feel better about being so inexperienced.”

“Hey, never feel bad about that. It’s not a bad thing.”

The two of you share a smile as you become more aware of your body. You notice how damp your panties feel, and suddenly jump off of his lap, worried that some of the wetness might have leaked through. You stand in front of the couch and look down to see a small but undeniable wet spot on his jeans where you had been sitting.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say, mortified by the sight.

“Hey what’s wrong, what happened?” He’s obviously concerned by your reaction, worried that he did something to make you uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “Your pants. They’re wet. I got them wet.”

“This is what you’re worried about?” He asks, his finger touching the wet spot and you want to hide in shame. “Y/N, look at me.” You do as he says and he continues, “This is not a problem. It’s nothing to worry about. On the contrary, it’s actually quite hot. Truthfully it’s caused another problem down there.”

Your expression turns back to confusion until he points to what he’s talking about. And then it clicks. He means the bulge in his pants that definitely wasn’t there when he sat down earlier.

“Oh,” you say. “Should I uhm, do you want me to-”

“Not today sweetheart. Today is about you. I’m just going to splash some cool water on my face and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply and he stands up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he heads to the bathroom. You run into your bedroom to change into fresh panties and then grab more water from the kitchen.

The two of you meet back in the living room and Harry casually says, “Wanna watch a couple episodes of Parks and Rec?”

Just like that, Harry makes everything normal again. You spend another hour together, Harry holding you close. Eventually though, it’s time to say goodbye once again. One long kiss is shared at the door, and then he drives away, leaving you alone now with your thoughts.

And those thoughts are primarily about Harry. For the next couple weeks, your mind is constantly replaying how it felt to kiss him so deeply, to be held so closely. How it felt to have an orgasm for the first time.

You try to recreate the feeling yourself. Harry had mentioned that a lot of girls can get off by doing the same thing you did against a pillow, but it doesn’t have the same effect. Maybe you need the connection in order to feel pleasure. Maybe you just want Harry to be there. He made you feel so at ease, but doing it yourself just seems awkward, uncomfortable.

You and Harry see each other a few more times, but always out in public. Until one night the plans change at the last minute and you end up meeting at his house.

“I’m sorry again that we can’t go to the restaurant,” he says when you get there.

“Harry, it’s okay. I completely understand,” you reassure him. And you do understand. He’d explained the situation, how word had gotten out that Harry Styles would be dining at Le Petit Chateau and now the place was swarmed with fans and paparazzi. “I’m just glad we were given a heads up instead of walking into that craziness,” you continue.

“I completely agree. I did come up with a backup plan though, so I think we can still save this evening,” he replies.

“Harry, every evening with you is a good one. I don’t care what we do when we’re together,” you state. His face breaks out into a smile and he coyly looks down. You’re enamored by how shy he can sometimes be, this mega popstar who can own the stage but gets so bashful in his own home.

He’s flustered but manages to lead you to the kitchen, where two glasses of wine are waiting on the large island.

“I uh, thought I’d make dinner instead. But I had to do a grocery delivery and it just got here so nothing is ready,” he explains.

“So what you’re saying is we get to cook together? Sounds fun to me!”

He smiles, again, brightly this time, before clinking your glasses together and leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Let’s get to it then,” he says and turns towards the ingredients. He puts on some music and the two of you move around the kitchen making dinner together. When you sit at the dining table to eat you’re both impressed by how delicious it is, commenting that the night is going even better than it would have been if the original plans had been possible.

After cleaning the dishes you move to the living room, where the lights are dim and music is playing quietly in the background. You’re seated on the couch, tucked into Harry’s side, and without preamble, he leans down to connect his lips to yours.

It quickly becomes heated, and before you know it you’re once again straddling his leg with his hands on your waist. Just like last time, he gently presses down, encouraging you to grind against him, but you pull back.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yea, I’m okay. I was just thinking, last time I was the only one to, you know, finish. I was hoping maybe this time we can do something else? Something to give each other pleasure,” you explain.

He listens and nods along before saying, “Why don’t we go to my bedroom to have some more space, get comfy?”

“Yea, that sounds good. But, I’m not ready for like, going all the way yet,” you say nervously.

“Don’t worry, I was thinking there are some fun things we can do with our hands,” he says smirking.

Your face heats up at the implication; truthfully, a warm flush runs through your entire body. He plants his feet on the floor and shifts you so that your legs are around his waist. “Hold on tight,” he says, the only warning he gives before standing from the couch with you wrapped around him. You gasp in surprise, another wave of arousal running through you at this show of his strength.

You can’t wait until you get to your destination, the need to kiss him is too strong. He’s surprised by the force with which your mouth meets his, but not bothered, and he matches your enthusiasm gladly. He makes his way to his bedroom, pulling away from the kiss a few times to make sure you get there safely.

When you arrive, he gently places you down on the bed, climbing up so that his body is pressed on top of yours. He’s holding himself up so as to not crush you, but you still feel him above you, every point of contact burning with electricity.

He kisses you again, slow this time, like he’s trying to learn everything he can about you through the kiss. He swallows your soft sighs, his plush lips brushing so softly against yours. Pulling away, Harry starts pressing kisses along the column of your neck. This alone has you whimpering, and Harry murmurs, “God, I love how sensitive you are.”

It’s such a strange compliment to you that you let out a small laugh, releasing some of your nervous energy. He continues to work at your neck, sucking lightly and creating a new sensation that has your eyes rolling back and wetness seeping from your core.

He continues to pepper kisses on your skin, but his hands go to the button on your jeans.

“Can I take these off, baby?”

You take a deep breath and say, “Okay, yea.”

Hearing the hesitation in your voice he asks, “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m just overthinking it. I mean, no one has seen me naked before, or like, not since I was a baby you know? It’s just, new,” you explain.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable.”

You think for a moment, trying to figure out what you want but Harry speaks again, suggesting, “What if we keep shirts on, would that help?”

“Yea, I think it would,” you say with a smile. “That wouldn’t be silly?”

“It’s not silly if it makes you feel at ease.”

“Alright. Let’s do that then.”

He leans back in for another sweet kiss, then gently removes your jeans. Before you can get too in your head, he stands off the bed to remove his own pants, effectively distracting you from your own self-consciousness. You sit up against the headboard to watch as his long legs are revealed to you. Your heart rate increases and your eyes travel up to his thick thighs, and then are magnetically pulled to the large bulge in his boxer briefs.

The nerves come back as you unintentionally stare at him. It seems bigger than you thought it could be. Not that you have anything to compare it to, but really, the size is still surprising.

Harry notices where your attention is, but rather than tease you which is his first instinct, he thinks about how intimidating this all is for you. He climbs back on the bed, kneeling next to your outstretched legs. His hand rubs calming circles on your shin and he asks, “What are you thinking right now?”

“Are you like, bigger than average? Or are all guys that big?”

Now he can’t help but laugh, though he quickly composes himself and says, “Yes, I would be considered bigger than average.”

His hand starts to move up your leg, getting closer to touching a place that has never been touched by anyone else, and you shift away slightly. He quickly pulls back, not wanting to cross any lines, and you're grateful for how attuned he seems to be to you.

“You said there’s something we can do with our hands to give each other pleasure, right?” you ask.

“I did,” he replies.

“How would I go about uhm, giving you pleasure?” Hearing how uncertain you sound, you say, “God, I’m sorry, this is supposed to be sexy and I’m just so clueless-”

“Hey, none of that,” he says as he moves to sit beside you, his legs stretched out next to yours. “You may be inexperienced, but I don’t care, okay? I don’t care that you need me to talk you through this. I am more than happy to teach you, got it?”

“Got it.”

Hesitantly, you place your hand on his thigh. You’re still for a moment before you start to slide higher up his leg, until it’s touching the waistband of his underwear. You look at him, asking a silent question to which he replies, “You can take them off.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. Harry senses your hesitation and puts his hands on top of yours, helping you remove the fabric until he’s completely bare from the waist down. He watches your reaction, notices how your eyes go wide with a mix of surprise and lust. He turns to grab a bottle of lube from the bedside table, giving himself a second to breathe. He didn’t expect just how much your big, doe eyes would turn him on, but seeing you discover all of this is somehow acting like an aphrodisiac to him.

You shift so that you’re kneeling next to him, resting both of your hands on his thigh, your eyes flickering between Harry’s face and his hard cock.

“You can touch,” he says. “Feel free to get familiar, explore a little bit.”

Following his direction, you gently run a finger along his length, too scared to do more just yet. You go from the base, all the way until you gently swirl around the tip, and he can’t keep in his gasp of pleasure at the feeling.

Scared that you’d done something wrong, you pull your hand back.

“That’s good, baby. Felt good,” Harry says. “Try wrapping your hand around it.” Again, you listen to the instruction and gently grip his length. “A little tighter, you won’t hurt me,” he says. He hisses in satisfaction when you do as he said. You glance up to his face just in time to see his eyes slip shut and his lips part.

You spend a moment just feeling him under you, surprised by how firm he is while somehow still being soft to the touch. He opens his eyes and watches as you practically study this new appendage. He’s again surprised by how incredibly hot he’s finding the whole situation. Never before has anyone been so focused, so curious.

After a little while he says, “Let me put a little of this on, it’ll help.”

You move your hand away and watch as he drizzles some lube onto his cock, stroking himself a few times to coat his whole length. You watch what he does, taking note of the way he moves his hand, how tightly he holds himself, how he seems to twist his wrist occasionally.

You reach out again, and he moves away so you can take over.

“Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong,” you say.

“You won’t. Do what feels natural, and I’ll give tips if you need them,” he replies.

You begin to stroke him, gripping tight and twisting just as you’d seen him do. Harry’s panting breaths and little moans encourage you, let you know you must be doing something right.

“You can uhm, change up the pace. Go faster for a bit, then go slow,” he says, and you try that as well, loving his reaction as you do so.

Growing more curious, and more bold, you use your other hand to gently touch his testicles that are laying against his leg. Harry sucks in a shaking breath, which you take as a good sign. “Try rolling them in your hand,” he says, “and you can squeeze them, gently though.”

You focus on doing that for a moment before realizing that you’d completely let go of his cock. You refocus and try to maintain stimulation everywhere, and the loud moan from Harry tells you that you must be succeeding.

“Just like that baby, feels perfect, just keep going.”

His breathing grows heavier, his moans more frequent, but his eyes stay fixed on you. He’s watching every move you make, and notices your furrowed brow when liquid starts to bubble out of his tip.

“Stop just a second,” he says, his voice breathless.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all. I just wanted to give you a heads up on what’s about to happen. That liquid is precum,” he says.

“Oh! So you’re going to…”

“Come, yea. Soon,” he says with a chuckle. “I just wanted to give you a heads up that it’s going to get a little messy.”

“Well, thank you for the warning,” you say and both of you laugh. Something about the fact that you’re both able to joke even in the middle of an intimate moment makes you feel so comfortable, so secure in this relationship.

You lean in for a kiss and start moving your hands again, picking up where you left off. The kiss grows more intense as he nears his orgasm, and suddenly he pulls away, a loud groan leaving his mouth. His eyes roll shut and he tips his head back. You feel his cock start to twitch and you watch as ropes of cum shoot out and land on your hand.

While Harry catches his breath your eyes scan his body. You watch as his cock slowly softens, as his breaths return to normal. Finally, he opens his eyes and leans in for another sweet kiss.

“That was amazing, love,” he says.

“Thank you,” you reply bashfully. It feels so odd to be complimented on a handjob well done, but at the same time it does boost your confidence.

Harry leans in for a quick kiss and says, “I’ll be back in one second.” He gets off the bed and heads into the bathroom, coming back with a few wet washcloths. He uses one to clean up, and notices you looking at the others.

“Just wanted to be prepared,” he says.

“Prepared for what?”

“For after I make you come,” he states matter of factly.

“Oh. Good idea,” you reply and you both begin to laugh again. “Thank you for not taking this so seriously.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks.

“I like that we can joke and laugh even during these intimate moments. Makes it less awkward.”

“I agree. I’ve always thought that sex should be something fun, not so serious.”

He leans in, once again gently cupping your face and kissing you. You admit to yourself that making out with Harry is quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.

His hand moves to your thigh, fingers tickling the inside and making you squirm. He slowly moves up, until he’s hovering over your underwear.

He pulls away from the kiss just far enough to ask, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, you can touch,” you reply, your lips still brushing even as you speak to one another.

“Spread your legs a little bit, okay baby?”

“Okay,” you answer as you relax your legs, letting them separate enough for Harry to slide his hand in between. He rubs against your pussy, and when he touches a certain spot, you moan loudly and grip his arm.

“Feels good there, huh?” He asks and you only nod in reply. “This is the clitoris, a wonderful little bundle of nerves that will make you feel really good if you stimulate it just right,” he explains. “This alone can make you come, but it feels even better when you have something inside of you, something to clench around.”

You realize where he’s going with this, what the next step will be, and say, “I’ve never had anything inside me except tampons. Will it hurt?”

“If done properly it shouldn’t hurt. One finger’s roughly the same size as a tampon, and I’ll make sure you’re well lubricated. Would you like to try? You don’t have to, and we can stop at any time.”

“I want to try.” Even you’re surprised by how sure you sound. But even though you’re nervous, you need to try it someday. And here, with Harry, you feel so safe. Not only that, you want to be that close to him, feel him inside of you even if it is only a finger.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, touching the waistband of your panties. You nod and shift again so that he can slide them down your legs.

Instinctively, you clench your legs again in an effort to hide yourself, but noticing this, Harry says, “Please don’t hide yourself from me.”

Slowly, you relax once more and you hear Harry say, “You’re perfect, baby. Absolutely perfect.”

You’re overwhelmed by the sincerity and duck down. Sensing you need a moment, Harry simply rubs circles on your leg once more and then again asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice breathy this time. His finger runs through your fold and up to your clit, and you gasp at the feeling. He starts rubbing circles just like earlier, but it’s more intense now that it’s direct contact.

After a few minutes of his working you up like this he moves away and you whine in complaint. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says with a light chuckle. “Just grabbing some lube. Technically you’re wet enough, but since it’s your first time I want to be extra safe. It might feel a little cold,” he adds in warning before drizzling some of the liquid on his fingers and touching you again.

“I’m gonna slide in now, nice and slow okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses you as he lines his finger up with your entrance. Just like he promised, he moves slowly until his finger is fully inside of you, and you don’t feel any pain as he does it. It feels a little weird, but when he starts to move it in and out while his thumb circles your clit, you can see why people enjoy this.

“How’s that feel?”

“I like it,” you say, before you cut yourself off with a loud moan. You have no idea what happened, what Harry just did differently, but you absolutely need him to do it again.

“Right there huh?” He says and you feel that same spark of pleasure. He continues moving both the finger inside you and the thumb rubbing your clit, and soon enough everything peaks.

You ride out the waves of your orgasm, your walls clenching around Harry’s finger, and yea, that feels as good as he said it would. As you start to come down from the high you gently hold the back of Harry’s head and pull him down so you can tuck your face into his neck. You’re craving security and closeness, and Harry is happy to comply.

“I’m gonna pull out now,” he warns and you feel oddly empty when his hand is gone. You know it was only one finger, but you still had felt so full. You can’t imagine what it will feel like when his actual dick is inside of you.

Harry places soft kisses to your neck until your hold on him loosens. He picks up one of the cloths he’d set aside earlier and starts to clean between your legs. “I’ll be right back,” he says before heading to the bathroom to wash his hands.

When he gets back he finds you sitting cross legged in bed, and he can’t help but be enamored by you. You’re not doing anything special, but somehow you’re so adorable, so effortlessly attractive to him.

He grabs himself fresh boxers and then sits next to you on the bed.

“Would you like to stay here with me tonight?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment, and while you hadn’t planned on sleeping over, you’re realizing you really don’t want to leave his side right now. Having him inside you had you rather vulnerable, and you don’t want to be alone tonight. Spending the night in his bed sounds like the perfect plan.

“I’d like that,” you reply. He smiles and gets back up, grabbing some clean clothes for you to wear. As he hands them to you he says, “This is gonna sound weird, but you should probably go pee.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s doctor recommended that women pee after sex of any kind. Something about bacteria, I can’t quite remember.”

“Are you messing with me?”

He laughs and replies, “I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“Alright then, if you say so.”

You head into the bathroom to pee and get dressed, and you take in your appearance in the mirror. Your hair is just a little messed up, your cheeks flushed and your eyes bright. It’s weird to note this physical change, and how it reflects how you feel on the inside: bright and just a little more daring than before.

Harry’s not in the bedroom when you get back, but a second later he walks in with water, snacks, and both of your phones which had been left downstairs earlier.

“Movie night in bed?” He suggests, and you nod enthusiastically. The two of you spend the rest of the evening snuggled together, watching films and talking. You don’t feel yourself getting drowsy, but the next thing Harry knows, you’re asleep curled into his side.

He lowers the volume of the movie, remembering you once mentioned that you sleep with TV on, and he carefully shifts the two of you so that you’re comfortably laying in bed. He places a soft kiss to the top of your head, and is lulled to sleep by the sound of your deep breaths.

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Taglist: @lizsogolden @daphnesutton @kissitnhekitchen

AN: Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying the story so far!

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you

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lurkingshan · 8 months ago

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Well! I love nothing more than when a show immediately validates my read of the themes and character dynamics. Thank you, Love Sea!

This show is excellent, and I am really impressed by how seriously it's taking the class and queer politics of this relationship. That shower scene really laid out the power dynamic here: Rak thinks of Mut as an object he can buy, use, and discard as he likes (though that is already starting to shift by the end of this episode). He can't stop throwing money at Mut and assuming that's all it will take to control him: witness him sending money to stake his claim when he got jealous, and asking if Mut is amazed to finally see money. He's a rich prick!

But he's a rich prick who is clearly hurting and needs to heal from something, and Mut can see that. And because he's a good person, he cares. I am dying for more context to understand those trauma flashbacks we saw in this episode, and I continue to be impressed with Mut as a competent professional. My favorite scene in this episode was their discussion over lunch at the dock, where they directly discussed their class disparity and the differences in their perspectives about work. When Mut started talking about how hard it is to stay afloat starting a small business and his neighborhood auntie jumped in to underline that poor people have to be exceptional to have a chance, I wanted to kiss this show on the mouth. Mut has been hustling hard to make a life for himself. Rak, by contrast, pursued a career he thought was fun and that gave him an outlet for his sexuality, as his financial privilege allowed him to do.

Speaking of which, another fantastic scene this episode was when Rak checked in with Mut about whether they could be out in his hometown. He framed it as protecting Mut's reputation, but he was also asking about his own safety as an out gay man on this island. It was a small moment, but those are the touches that make this story feel genuinely queer, and I'm glad to see MAME continuing to level up on this in each successive show.

And speaking of leveling up, can we get a round of applause for Fort and Peat, who have somehow already managed to surpass the heat level of their Love in the Air sex scenes. I hardly knew it was possible to do more, but they have proven me wrong and had my jaw dropping a few times in this episode. I really like that they became sexually involved before any real affection has developed between them and that the sex isn't necessarily the thing building their bond; it's the moments when they connect outside of sex that are engaging their emotions. But in the meantime, they clearly have off the charts chemistry and they are both happy to indulge. Power to them!

#love sea #love sea the series #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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pitchsidestories · 8 months ago

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Good girl gone bad II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1886

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, enjoy.

warnings: minors dni, 18+, smut at the end, toxic behaviour from OC, jealousy, please don't take this too seriously !

“Ingrid, you played fantastic!”, Mapi waved enthusiastically her little flag, before she jumped into the open arm of hers and your Norwegian girlfriend.

“Oh, thanks.”, the tall woman’s face lit up at the Spanish defender’s compliment.

“Seriously, you filled out the defensive role so perfectly, I couldn’t have done a better job.”, the smaller player couldn’t stop gushing about her lover’s great performance.

“Just wait until you can play again.”, Ingrid muttered cheerfully.

“Not that long anymore.”, Mapi answered giddily.

“I’ll miss you and your little flag though.”, the younger footballer admitted.

“To be honest, I’ll miss that too.”, she agreed wistfully.

“ I know but there’s no better feeling than playing.”, Ingrid mumbled, her teammates still running around with the CL trophy in her hand, taking pictures in between the celebratory moves.

The defender who has followed her girlfriends gaze added grinning:”Playing and winning.”

“Exactly.”

From the sidelines you’ve followed their conversation, you were hurt about the fact that you weren’t a part of it as it usually was you three together and not as a pair like in this particular moment.

With every fibre of your being, you felt like the other woman who wasn’t in this relationship even though you were up until now. The loneliness crept under your skin; jealousy clung to your heart and wouldn’t let you go until Alexia started talking to you.

“Don’t let your head down, beautiful. After all we won.”, she reminded you, while pulling you into a encouraging hug.

“Um, what?”, you gave the midfielder a quizzing look, her words haven’t reached you as you’ve been too busy to listen to your girlfriends’ sweet nothings which didn’t include you in them.

“I can tell you’re disappointed.”, Alexia stated earnestly.

“I didn’t play much tonight, so it’s not really my win, Ale.”, you told her miserably. You hated that tone in your voice. Where was your confident self?

“We’re all in this situation at one point. Someone is always on the bench. But we always win as a team.”, the blonde tried to cheer you up.

“Right.”, you said even though you turned away when you saw your girlfriends were kissing ignoring everything around them as if they were in a movie in which they played the leading roles, while the rest of you were the supporting actresses to help the lovers get to their happy ending.

“Oh, hey, babe. We’re going to the party later. You’re coming too, right?”, Ingrid asked you later in the changing room, finally realizing you were still there after all.

“Yes, of course.“, you nodded.

Ingrids gaze went back to Mapi as she smiled: “Great, I’ll go shower.“

“Me too.“, you said, walking past both of your girlfriends into the showers that were adjacent to the dressing room.

You had hoped that the steaming hot water would clear your mind but the calmness that usually came with a warm shower never set in.

Instead, the pictures of what happened after the game kept repeating in your head. You were never the jealous type, you could not be jealous in a relationship like yours. But you also knew that you deserved better than to be ignored by your girlfriends, so you came up with a plan.

For the party, you decided to slip into a a pair of suit pants and a button-down vest with nothing underneath, drawing attention to your arms and chest with your outfit choice. You curled the ends of your hair and put on some make-up. You looked at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your looks.

“Are you two ready to go?“, Mapi asked impatiently, looking effortlessly cool as usual.

Ingrid appeared next to her, wearing a tight dress and radiating ethereal beauty: “Yes, we’re ready, love.“

Mapi nodded towards the door: “Let’s go then, babe.“

You reluctantly followed them, already disappointed that none of them had commented on your outfit. You were not exactly pouting on your way to the party but you also refused to talk much.

Arriving at the location, your two girlfriends retreated to a table in the corner with their drinks. They were lost in each others eyes. You were sure they noticed nothing of what happened around them.

As you were nursing your drink at the bar, Alexia appeared on your side: “What are you thinking about?“

“Me?“ You looked at her in surprise.

“Yes.“

You first inclination was to tell her that you felt like your girlfriends did not need you in their lives but instead, you swallowed down the thought and forced yourself to smile: “They’re playing Rosalia. Want to dance, Ale?“

The captain looked at your for a second before giving in: “Only because you look so unhappy.“

“Dancing always helps with that…“, you promised.

“Come on then.“ Alexia reached out her hand and pulled you towards the dance floor.

You immediately fell into an easy rhythm with her. You deliberately pushed close to her during your dance and she let you.

On the other side of the room, Ingrid tapped Mapis arm frantically: “Mapi!“

“Yes?“, the defender could barely tear her eyes from her Norwegian girlfriend.

“Look!“

Only then did she look over in your direction, her eyebrows knitting together: “Y/n is dancing with Ale?“

“Looks like it…“, Ingrid whispered.

“That’s not her usual good girl behaviour.”, the Mapi observed through gritted teeth. Sawing you dance with one of her best friends in the way you did, so intimately and sexy was driving the older woman insane.

“No, it’s not.”, the Norwegian player nodded, she wasn’t able to take her eyes from you and your team’s captain.

“We’ll see and give her a little time to redeem herself otherwise if she keeps behaving naughty like that over the night we’ll take actions.”, the older woman thought out loud.

“Take actions`”, Ingrid looked startled at the smaller footballer.

“Y/n is needy and bratty in front of everyone, so we’ll punish her at home.”, she explained seriously.

“Punish her?”, shock was written all over the younger woman’s pretty face.

“Yes.”

Meanwhile, Ona tipped your shoulder making you turn around to her to look into her eyes, which glanced concerned back at you:” Can I take over?”

“Sure.”, you agreed enthusiastically to her offer, feeling the alcohol more than you wanted to admit. After a dance with you Alexia had returned to her girlfriend to engage into a passionate conversation which involved mostly kisses.

“You’re in a party mood. How many drinks did you have?”, the defender asked you, damn her, she really did notice everything.

“Uhm maybe two.”, you replied, your cheeks immediately turning red.

“Two?”, Ona raised an eyebrow at you. Her voice was full of scepticism.

“Don’t worry about it, Oni.”, you answered with a charming smile on your lips.

“I don’t.”, she quickly reassured you.

“Good.” But you realized your teammate’s her hands were still on your upper arms contradicting what she just said.

“Something’s up with you.”, Ona stated firmly.

“Let’s just dance, please.”, you shook your head heavily.

With a sigh the defender said:” Alright.”

“Thank you.”, you mumbled relieved, that the questioning was over for now. Sweet, innocent Ona was the last person you wanted to trouble with your worries.

“You’re welcome.”

The mix of alcohol and changing teammates made you forget that time was passing by. You were confused when you found the home you shared with your girlfriends was already dark without any lights on.

Nonetheless, you let them know that you arrived:” Hi, I’m home.” A familiar shadow was pressing on to your legs, being clearly happy about your return.

“And hello Bagheera.”, you added, as you stroke the cat softly who purred loudly to your touches.

“About time.”, Mapi announced sounding very displeased, you shrieked as she appeared from the darkness, her moves scarily similar to Bagheera. Elegant but lurking, why you didn’t understand. Maybe your behaviour had worked out?

“Mapi, Ingrid, here you’re. but why didn’t you turn the lights on?”, you questioned them irritated.

“We were about to go to bed.”, Ingrid responded calmly.

“Great, me too. I’ll just go to the bathroom quick.”, you sighed.

Mapi raised an eyebrow and said cooly: “You have two minutes.“

“What?“ Confused, you opened the bathroom door. Whatever that was supposed to mean, you were now determined to take your time.

“Go.“, Mapi ordered.

You rolled your eyes, disappearing into the bathroom. You only heard Ingrid say: “Good girl.“

You sat down on the toilet and took out your phone, scrolling through pictures of tonight. Only then, you slipped out of your nice suit and left the bathroom in only your underwear.

Ready to go to sleep, you were about to go into your shared bedroom but Mapi blocked your way.

She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her chest: “What did you think you were doing all night?“

“Partying?“, you replied, playing dumb and trying to move past your girlfriend.

“Dancing with Alexia and Ona? You might as well have given them a lap dance.“, Mapi scolded you.

Ingrid appeared next to her, eyeing you closely before turning to the Spanish defender and mumbling seductively: “Our good girl’s gone bad tonight…“

You shot Ingrid a deadly glance: “You think you’re funny? You ignored me all night. I was just having fun.“

“We saw everything.“, Mapi said, her jaw set.

“I’m sure you did, the way you stared at each other all night.“, you rolled your eyes.

“Y/n.“, Ingrid said softly, while Mapi shook her head: “Don’t distract.“

“I don’t!“, you exploded.

Mapi continued: “You were trying to make us jealous all night.“

Ingrid nodded: “Exactly.“

Before you could protest, Mapis hands were on your body and pulled you towards the bed: “Now come here.“

You could feel your back hit the mattress. Your girlfriends climbed onto the bed as well, one on either side of you.

You had no idea what happened but suddenly, Ingrids mouth was on your neck and sucked on the sensitive skin. She slipped a slender hand over your mouth right as you wanted to start to complain. Mapis hands in the meantime rested on your hips.

You were too focused on Ingrids kisses to realize that your Spanish girlfriend had started to pull your panties down with her teeth. Only when she dipped her tongue in, you started to moan into Ingrids hand. She already knew how she had to move her tongue just right.

While Mapi was busy stimulating you, Ingrids mouth wandered across your upper body. Kissing and licking her way towards your breasts. She circled your nipples with her tongue before starting to suck on them. You squirmed under her touch.

Mapi had switched from licking to using her fingers and you could not contain yourself any longer.

Impatiently, you removed Ingrids hand from your mouth. “Stop!“, you whined.

You could see Mapis lips turn into a smirk: “Say please.“

“Please stop.“, you begged impatiently.

And then you finally climaxed, a firework bursting in every part of your body. You moaned.

Mapi rested her head on your stomach as she watched you breath heavily.

Ingrid pressed a kiss to your forehead: “Good girl.“

You knew that this was supposed to be a punishment but right here on the bed, you finally felt seen by your girlfriends again.

#ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen imagine #mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso oneshot #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #ona batlle #woso smut

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the-irreverend · 5 months ago

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The Inferno Theory: The Chara Theory to End All Chara Theories

Here we are! Nine years of Undertale. And seeing how Chara is heavily associated with the number 9 (AND THAT TOBY FOX FINALLY TALKED ABOUT THEM), I can't think of a better way to celebrate the occasion than by dedicating this 5000-word-long theory about them? Y'all remember when people used to make long-ass theories about Chara? Yeah, they're coming back with a vengeance! To say I have a colossal hyperfixation is a massive understatement. No character in all of fiction has had a bigger impact on my life than this little rose-cheeked, cocoa-addicted freak. I’ve been a Chara fan for as long as I’ve been an Undertale fan, and you can bet that my understanding of them has changed a lot since. And now I have the pleasure of sharing said understandings with y’all!

Once upon a time, there was an aroace autistic who, like most of y’all, had a very unhealthy obsession with Undertale. And unlike most of you, he thought the Genocide Route was really fun. Most fans talk about how unhappy they felt killing everyone, but for me, I felt like a polar bear at a baby harp seal convention. I got a disturbing level of happiness out of turning everyone to dust. Hell, the only unhappiness I felt was when I couldn’t turn Monster Kid to dust.

Oh well, at least I got a good consolation prize!

I was one sadistic son of a gun, and so I was even more delighted to find out I had a secret admirer/partner-in-crime and that they joined in on the fun because I was such a goshdarn inspiration to them. Not wishing to disappoint my self-appointed partner, I erased the world without a second thought, eagerly awaiting what we might get to do together.

So you can guess I was pretty taken aback when, instead of a warm welcome, they started lecturing me about how I couldn’t accept the world’s destruction and that I was the one fully responsible for it (even though they were eager to take credit for it earlier). I didn’t think much of it at first. Initially, I just thought that they were just irritated that I was undoing what we had worked so hard to accomplish.

But as this game taught me time after time, you should never trust your first impressions. Those first impressions would crumble to dust when they said this.

To say I was completely baffled is an understatement. Why the hell would this prepubescent genocidal maniac be so obsessed over whether or not I think I’m above consequences? So obsessed to the point they would tell me to go to hell if I told them no? It was at that moment I realized there was something more to this character than meets the eye. But for a long time, I couldn’t seem to figure out what that something was. And it didn’t seem like anyone could figure that out either.

I’m very much a veteran of the fan wars that have emerged surrounding Chara. In fact, one might even say I am a deserter of sorts, as I am a former member of the Chara Defence Squad, Offense Squad, and Neutralist Squad. But I’m not gonna be a stuck-up and say everyone’s a canon-ignoring idiot except for me and that I’m the only one who knows what Toby Fox intended Chara to be. Even though I ended up with a very different take than yours (and will certainly argue why it’s the best), I owe you all your discussions a huge debt, and I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t gotten invested in your interpretations, to begin with. Not to mention that, contrary to what some may argue, you’ve made some valid points to complement them.

And while the debate that resulted from Chara’s ambiguous morality has led to a lot of controversy and even toxicity, it has also been a source of some FANTASTIC CONTENT. Like seriously, would we have gotten those badass renditions of Stronger Than You if no one thought Chara was an awful person? Would we have gotten Man on the Internet’s beautiful rendition of Star if no one thought Chara was a good person (turned awful)?

It would be utter hypocrisy for me to ask of you to approach me and my arguments (or anyone who accepts them) with understanding and good faith only to then not do the same to anyone who doesn’t agree with me. In this theory, I will definitely argue why some points made about Chara are flawed; points that you might hold yourself. But that doesn’t automatically mean that you (or your takes) are intellectually or morally inferior to mine. And besides, I’m not Toby Fox.

So with that said, why did I eventually came to disagree with pretty much everyone about Chara? Because, one way or another, I couldn’t find a take that clicked with me personally as I felt there were various inconsistencies and issues holding them back. I looked at YouTube videos, subreddits, Tumblr essays, Twitter threads, and even forums on the Steam Community. But I couldn’t really find what I thought were satisfactory answers to the questions I had about Chara’s motivations, role in the game, and relationship with the player.

And then, one day, I found those answers. It all happened when I asked myself: “What if Chara didn’t turn against me… because they were always against me from the start?!”

I don’t mean that Chara only saw you as a means to an end. I mean that YOU were the end. What if Chara didn’t use you so they could screw over the monsters but they used the monsters so they could screw over YOU.

You probably think I’m insane, don’t you? And you’re right! I AM INSANE! AND SO IS THIS WHOLE DAMN THEORY!!! But somehow, someway, it just works!! And I’ll show you why and how!!!

What you are about to read is the culmination of six years of reading and critiquing Chara takes and theories of every kind and quality, whether it be Judgement Boy’s Who is the Real Villain of Undertale to Wandydoodles’ Oblivion Theory. Six years of examining the arguments and counterarguments of Chara defenders, offenders, and neutralists alike. Six years of looking in every corner of the UTDR fandom. From the tranquil lands of Quora. To the dark recesses of Reddit. To the intellectual wastelands of Twitter. To the fiery hellsite of Tumblr. So, without further ado, get ready for some of the most pure, unadulterated, high-octane, universe-collapsing neurodivergence you’ve ever seen in your life!!!!!

Part 1: The demonic heritage of the "demon who comes when people call its name".

Have you ever had one of those moments where you’ve asked yourself, “What the actual hell is this guy talking about?” I bet you’re having that moment right now. Everything about their character post-death, including their motives, their methods, and their relationship with you, is perfectly reflected in one of their most famous (or rather infamous) lines:

When most people hear the word demon, the first thing that comes to mind is a being made of pure evil whose only purpose in life is to destroy all things good in the world. Right?

Well, yes, but actually, no. It’s a little more complicated than that. To argue that Chara is a demon because they’re simply “an evil little twerp that enjoys being evil” doesn’t do them or their role in Undertale justice (although that hasn’t stopped people from trying to argue that). To understand why calling themselves a demon is EXTREMELY important, we need to dive into the wonderful (and totally not controversial) world of religious beliefs!

In ancient and modern religions, demons are a little more complex than just ethereal jackasses with a vendetta against virtue and righteousness. Though they vary from faith to faith, most demons have a specific set of qualities and tropes that make them integral to whatever faith they’re in. You also see these demonic qualities in fiction that’s derived or inspired by religions, and since Undertale’s lore and worldbuilding have a heavy emphasis on the spiritual and divine, you can see them in Chara. Since Undertale is a game of “Western” origin, you can definitely see they share qualities that are all too familiar with devils of “Western” religions. In classic devil fashion, they target those with weak integrities or suspect morals; they tempt you with the promise of fulfilling your desires at your and everyone else’s expense; they’re able to control your body as you grow their power through your sins, and hell, they even do the thing where they make a deal for your soul. Also...

But though it's evident that Chara encourages you to do “evil,” THEY THEMSELVES are not responsible for it. Yes, Chara encouraged you to kill, but YOU are the one who acted on those encouragements. In fact, YOU are the one who encouraged THEM to help you out! They walked down the dark path with you, but you didn’t really give them anywhere else they could walk. You had all the power and every chance to turn back and no reason to keep walking. And yet you persisted.

But that does beg the question, why did you walk it at all? What could possibly inspire you to give all of these characters happiness, satisfaction, and peace and then rip it all away? Because you decided that giving everyone the most satisfying ending was not satisfying enough for you. Because there was more that you could experience for yourself, even if it meant making everyone else experience something absolutely horrific. It wasn’t enough for you to fill the glass only halfway. You needed to fill it to the brim. You wanted to reach the absolute. Even if doing the Genocide Run was a bad experience for you, you CANNOT deny it was a fulfilling one. And Chara knows it, too. It ain’t exactly a coincidence that fulfillment and fullness are recurring motifs in Chara’s character.

Like all demons, Chara is able to tempt the wicked and sinful by targeting our greatest weaknesses and deficiencies. It’s no different from how Succubi and Incubi target those who succumb to the sin of lust. That’s why you won’t go after my aroace ass anytime soon. But I digress.

But Chara doesn't just tempt us by exploiting our need to fill the glass to the brim but also because of how they exploit the satisfaction we get from watching it fill up, that is to say, the satisfaction that comes from trying to achieve fulfillment.

We humans are addicted to progression as much as we are to completion, and in an RPG like Undertale, the satisfaction of progression comes in the form of NUMBERS. Not just the numbers that flash on the screen when you battle enemies but also the ones that go up when you finish said enemies off, whether it be your hit points, experience points, and so on. And Undertale isn’t any ordinary RPG; it’s one where its RPG elements are interwoven into the fabric of the game’s universe. Because of that, Chara is able to use these elements in their world to influence those outside of it.

But Chara does not just influence us through the numbers that increase but also the ones that decrease. That’s why the first thing they do when we reach Snowdin is give us a tally.

It’s not just there to measure progress. It’s also there to incentivize us to keep progressing. It gives us a small dose of satisfaction that’s enough to distract us from the mundanity and misery of the murder run, like a loading bar on a loading screen. And just like with loading screens, the farther it progresses, the harder it gets to turn away. Why would you want all the lives you’ve taken and the stats you’ve gained to amount to nothing? Why would you want to hit reset and go through those brutal fights with Sans and Undyne again? You can’t empty out the glass, not when you’re that much closer to filling it to the brim. Speaking of Sans and Undyne, it’s quite interesting that even though they barely know you, they know exactly why you won’t take your foot off the pedal, so to speak.

But that’s not the only thing driving you, isn’t it? Chara knows that there was something else that was spurning you along. Something more powerful and more dangerous than your addiction to progression and completion: PRIDE.

Perhaps the real reason you kept giving in to sin until it was far too late was because you didn’t think it would be too late. You didn’t hold back because you thought you would be able to go back. You thought you could just absolve your sins with the press of a button like you did in countless worlds before. You thought you could dive in, touch the bottom, and come back out of the water. But what were you getting into? How deep would you have gone? And would you have gone in if you knew you couldn’t possibly return? You know you wouldn’t. And Chara knows it, too. That brings us back to the dialogue I showed you at the beginning of this theory. The one said changed everything I knew about this character, and I firmly believe that this is the MOST important line of dialogue in the entire franchise.

PART 2: THE PART WHERE I (PRETEND TO) DESTROY 9 YEARS OF ESTABLISHED FANON!

When I say that that little blurb about being above consequences is ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL, I do not say that lightly. It isn’t just important to Chara's character, but the game of Undertale as a whole! Anyone who’s serious about Chara’s character should never take this for granted because Chara sure as hell does not.

It’s not just our refusal to accept the world’s destruction that’s a huge-ass deal to Chara; it’s the arrogance and complacency that accompanies it, rooted in the position and privileges we have as the player. It matters to them so much that they’re willing to completely forgo bartering for our soul (which they say they want) if we don’t admit that we have that belief!

And yet, despite Chara taking this subject so seriously, the people who are analyzing their character ironically don’t. Generally speaking, most people simply brush this line off as nothing more than something they do to help them on their quest to achieve their goals. So, with that said, let’s talk about what those supposed goals actually are.

In all my years of reading and assessing countless Chara theories and interpretations, I’ve discovered that everyone actually agrees on what Chara's goals are. They just can’t agree on why they want them. Said goals are A) reach the absolute, B) max out their numbers/power, C) erase the world, and/or D) eradicate all monsters. But what if it’s actually the other way around? What if those things were the means to an end rather than the ends themselves?

What if the true goal of the “demon who comes when people call its name” was just like that of the demons of old: not to be your partner in crime, but to torment and punish you for your crimes? To make you face CONSEQUENCES!

I’m not making this argument simply because it makes Chara look more badass (though I think it totally does, lol). I firmly believe that Undertale’s post-Genocide content is written so that Chara’s character can only make sense if that was Chara’s goal from start to finish. Because if Chara’s endgame was any of those four I mentioned earlier, their character kinda falls apart because they're awfully inconsistent about fulfilling them. And those inconsistencies are evident in the Second Geno Ending.

Discrepancy 1) They say they will “appear time and time again” to help us “eradicate the enemy and become strong,” and yet they call us perverted for eradicating everyone time and time again.

You can argue that they didn’t want us to recreate the world in the first place and just move on to another world, but if so, why let us come back at all? And if it’s to get our soul, why do they keep around this world after we have it? This leads us to...

Discrepancy 2) They tell us to ERASE the world and move on to the next, and yet they allow us to restore it without a hitch after we give them our SOUL, seeing how there’s no black void when we start the game again.

If Chara was powerless to stop us from coming back, this wouldn’t be such a big deal. But they CLEARLY DEMONSTRATE that they’re able to stop the player from restoring the world, as seen in the first post-genocide ending. And yet they don’t use this power after the first time the world is erased (WHICH YOU WOULD THINK THEY WOULD WANT TO USE SINCE THEY WANT TO ERASE THE WORLD AND MOVE ON TO ANOTHER)! Seeing how the world is back again without us doing anything makes the restoration of the world like something that Chara CHOSE ON THEIR OWN VOLITION. And what makes this all the more damning is...

Discrepancy 3) They tell us they’re down bad for increasing our ATK, DEF, EXP, and LV to the max and erasing the world and everyone in it, and yet they TELL US TO DEVIATE FROM THE ONLY ROUTE THAT ACCOMPLISHES THAT (which, as stated before, they call us perverse for doing it again).

So, let me get something straight. You tell us you want to ”eradicate the enemy” and “ erase this pointless world,” and yet not only are you allowing us to undo all of that, you want us to do something INSTEAD OF THAT??? It’s funny how you lecture us about how we cannot accept the world’s destruction BECAUSE, APPARENTLY, YOU WON’T EITHER!!!!! Also, before I forget...

Discrepancy 4)

WHAT KIND OF MISANTHROPE DEDICATES THEIR WHOLE LIFE TO WIPING OUT HUMANITY, GETS GIFT-WRAPPED A CHANCE TO DO THAT, AND THEN JUST PASSES IT UP?!?!?!

On behalf of misanthropes everywhere, I am DEEPLY disappointed in you!

So it doesn’t matter if you believe Chara is always evil, good, or detached from morality entirely. Because Chara has the same goal across all versions, they all succumb to the same inconsistencies!

Funny how most people see them as this embodiment of the addictive nature of levelling up and consuming everything in a piece of media and all that jazz WHEN THEY SEEM TO CASUALLY GIVE UP ON IT!!!!!!

And if you argue they want a Soulless Pacifist Run when they suggest “another path,” then ask yourself, what does that give them that a Genocide Run doesn’t? Keep in mind, aside from a scribbled-out photograph, we don’t see how many monsters or humans they killed besides the main characters or how much power and stats they gained from it. And it’s not like we see them erase the world afterward since only the genocide run has that infamous wall of red 9s. Not to mention, the genocide run is the most secure way of accomplishing their goals since they have the backing of the player. Not only that, but it’s also the safest and most efficient way to erase everyone and increase stats to the fullest, and we all know how Chara feels about efficiency.

So Chara has no reason to pick the Soulless pacifist ending over the Genocide Run if they want to achieve their end of increasing numbers and consuming the world… unless those things were a means to an end rather than ends themselves.

Indeed it is coming together! That’s the other reason their statement, “You think you’re above consequences,” is so damn important! They’re not telling us why we sinned, but it reveals they intend to make us suffer for those sins, and how.

That’s why Chara is seemingly so inconsistent about erasing the world. Because it was never about the world. It was all about YOU.

[SIDE NOTE: I’m sure many of you will point out that if Chara wanted us to get a Soulless ending in this world, then why would they encourage us to “move on to the next?” I don’t think this is too big an issue for two reasons. First, this line is meant to emphasize that, like all demons, Chara is inescapable and that no matter what world you go to (within their own universe), Chara will always follow you now that you’ve unleashed them. Second, because their goal concerns us and not the world they’re a part of, their character avoids the aforementioned inconsistencies that hamper the other Chara theories much more severely, in my opinion.]

Part 3: Contrapasso

Now I’m sure some of y’all might think that Chara doesn’t need to yearn for our torment to achieve the impact of the Soulless ending and that just because Chara is a demon doesn’t automatically mean they need to screw us over. You are right in that not everyone who makes a Faustian Bargain needs to have malicious intentions toward the people they’re taking advantage of (Kuybey from Madoka Magica is a great example of that). But Chara does need it! Not only does it make their character more narratively cohesive, but also makes their character more thematically impactful. And it’s more in tune with their demonic nature for them to want to torment us.

Because demons represent something more terrifying than evil itself. They represent the terrible price of embracing it, a price that all evildoers fear more than anything, and that all demons want seek to inflict upon us. Like most demons, Chara isn’t encouraging us to sin to fill the emptiness in our soul (or even their own). They did it to perpetuate that torturously empty and unfulfilled state for all eternity, a state which even themselves now endure.

Now, you’ve probably noticed that I’ve talked a lot about the themes of fulfillment and emptiness, and it’s for a good reason since those themes are heavily featured in Undertale. I mean, how could it not? Because concepts of demons, hell, and sins (which are explicitly mentioned in the game) are deeply intertwined with the concept of emptiness. The theologian Thomas Aquinas once defined evil as not a presence but as an absence (of that which is good). Darkness is the absence of light; war is the absence of peace; bigotry is the absence of tolerance; pride is the absence of humility, etc. You see this reflected in not just Christian theology but also fiction as a whole, as a lot of villains are motivated by a desire to obtain something that they believe can’t be without. Whether it be wealth, status, recognition, power, the death of an individual, or even just sadistic pleasure.

Since demons are beings that are inseparable from evil itself, the life of a demon is forever cursed by unceasing and unbearable emptiness. Hell, the word damnation originated from the Latin word damnum, which literally means loss! They’re not exactly partying in hell while your immortal soul is being slow-roasted for eternity. They’re burning in that lake of fire and brimstone along with you! They can’t end their damnation, not because they don’t want to but because they simply can’t. They’re fated to be bereft of the satisfaction or fulfillment found in Heaven or Earth, a fate that is worse than death in every sense of the word, especially since they can’t experience death anymore. Because of that, a demon embodies what is perhaps the most terrifying form of evil of all: not one rooted in a desire to rid the emptiness and unfulfillment within themselves, but a desire to inflict them upon others. Because as a wise philosopher once said:

We see this horrific state of mutually assured suffering everywhere across fiction. From goofy, lighthearted tokusatsu's...

...to nightmarish sci-fi dystopias...

...to a little indie game made 9 years ago.

Oh yeah. Don’t think I was gonna talk about emptiness without mentioning everyone’s favourite homicidal fauna-turned-flora, especially not with lines like this.

Take one to know one! And it can’t be a coincidence that the game emphasizes the theme of emptiness when giving the spotlight to the three characters that have committed the most “evil”: Flowey/Asriel, Chara, and YOU.

Quite the unholy trinity going on here, eh? It truly is fascinating how the emptiness led us to work with each other to exterminate all monsters. And it’s also interesting how the unique kind of emptiness we have eventually led us to work against each other. Whether it be Flowey wishing to preserve his sentimentality for his long-gone sibling, us players wanting to maintain our (perverted) sentimentality for the world of Undertale, or Chara weaponizing these sentimentalities to exact their misanthropic hatred.

Remember how I said that Chara was a lousy misanthrope because they keep letting us bring back the humans they wanted annihilated when they were alive? That does make them a lousy misanthrope… unless their misanthropy found a higher priority target: YOU!!!!! Chara’s desire to torment us didn’t come out of thin air. The same hatred that drove them to wipe out the humans of their world years ago is the same hatred that’s driving them to get at the humans of our world, even if it means destroying those who once embraced them. And now, that hatred is more potent and destructive than ever before, so much so that it’s no wonder Toriel was able to feel it when she endured that fatal blow after the Geno Run began.

Do you think witnessing what soullessness did to sweet little Asriel wasn’t already terrifying and tragic enough? Just try to imagine what it could‘ve done to a vengeful, traumatized, chocolate-addicted problem child so consumed by hatred that they poisoned themselves just for a chance to wipe out their own kind. All of that hatred of humanity is still alive and well, and now it has no humanity to hold it back.

And what could be a more fitting target for a MISANTHROPE that calls themselves a DEMON… than a HUMAN that wants to play GOD?

After all, the only thing demons love more than tormenting mortals is warring with Gods.

Why else do you think that Chara winks right at you if we make Frisk stay with Toriel? Because that’s who the Soulless Ending was meant for. It’s when they’re finally able to unleash all that animosity and hatred that’s been lurking behind that smile ever since we killed everyone in the Ruins. It’s the moment that they’ve been patiently waiting for because they knew that’s when it would hit you the hardest.

And what makes the Soulless Pacifist Ending very special compared to other “bad endings” isn’t simply because they destroy those we pretend to care about (may I remind you that you did do the genocide run, after all). But they destroy something much more valuable to us as the players: OUR OMNIPOTENCE. Chara doesn’t destroy people for the sake of destroying them. But because in doing so they destroy our arrogant belief that nothing could possibly challenge the invisibility and invulnerability we players take for granted.

It's all too human that those with the most power are the least willing to lose it (or even take responsibility for it). And in a world where we should have absolute power, we thought there would be no consequences for abusing it. So what could be a more fitting and frightful punishment than having to actually face them? Missing out on the best ending in a video game is one thing. But to forever lose the power to achieve it ever again?! Now that’s terrifying!

Throughout myth, legend, and religion, sinners are often punished in a way befitting of the sin they’ve committed. In Greek Mythology, Tantalus was damned for trying to feed the Gods the flesh of his murdered son with eternal hunger and thirst despite being within arm’s reach of water and food. In Dante’s Inferno, those who succumb to wrath are forever doomed to fight each other in a river of mud. And since Undertale is no stranger to concepts such as hell, sins, and demons, you can damn well be sure that there’s going to be damnation fitting for the sins that drove you to complete the genocide run.

You completed the Genocide Run because you believed ending their lives would be fulfilling. Now, you can no longer get any fulfillment out of saving their lives.

I mean, where else can you get your precious fulfillment? Those paltry neutral endings? They only offer a fraction of what the pacifist ending offered. And the genocide ending has been drained of its satisfaction like the pacifist! Would you do all that tedious grinding and brutal boss fights just to hear your so-called “partner” lecture you again on perverted sentimentality and say you should choose another path, even though there’s nothing that they could offer? Of course not. In the end, you’re just like poor Tantalus agonizing in the pits of Tartarus, feeling the water vanish from his hands just before it touches his lips.

The ultimate triumph of Chara isn’t making you suffer a total defeat, but perhaps something much worse to you as a gamer: a pyrrhic victory. It’s like having a Twinkie that's been drained of the creamy center. Everything is still there except the thing you treasure most. You’re damned to play a challenge forever deprived of any and all fulfillment you once got from it, a satisfying journey that will always be doomed to reach a dissatisfying destination.

In the end, Chara leaves you with the world exactly as they described it the first time they met you face-to-face: POINTLESS.

You can have the world exactly as it was before (and the people within it). But in the end, Chara will always have the last laugh.

Figuratively and literally.

Welcome to hell!

Part 4: Why Consequences Matter

Woooooo!!! Man, that was quite the read, wasn’t it? And yeah, I wasn't kidding when I said this is going to be autistic as all hell! I don’t doubt you have a lot of thoughts in your mind, and then you’re gonna share them by the time you’re finished reading this post. Some of you might think this is the Chara theory to end Chara theories. Some of you believe that this is the worst thing that has happened to this fandom since Sebastian Wolff. Some of y’all, I’m whitewashing them because I argue they’re driven by a desire to punish the wicked by any means necessary. Some will think I’m demonizing them because I say that they’re, well, a demon.

[SIDE NOTE: Just so I don’t miscommunicate what I believe about Chara’s morality, here are some key points to take away from this theory. A) Chara sought to make you pay for the evil you committed. In fact, the idea that the Soulless Ending is Chara punishing our sins has been around for a while, especially by those who think Chara was “corrupted. B) However, in this theory, Chara's actions are all done with the intent of accomplishing that goal. This means that Chara was aware of what they were doing, they wanted to do it, and that THEY KNEW IT WAS EVIL. C) But you still have to remember that Chara is also A LITERAL CHILD. And D) They’re a child who endured a great deal of hardship (and possibly trauma), which made them so embittered and vengeful. Also, E) Remember that they’re also soulless, just like Asriel when he was Flowey.]

But I think most of you were gonna look at this interpretation of Chara and feel the same thing that I have about most of yours: a take that’s not without issues, but not without a fair bit of interesting points.

But regardless of what you think of this theory overall, there’s one thing I won’t leave up for debate: I deeply treasure Chara’s character. Not just because I think they’re fun, cool, or interesting but also because I firmly believe they’re invaluable Undertale. And yet, at the same time, I think they’re severely undervalued by the fandom. And who can blame them?

The characters of Undertale speak very little of Chara, and Chara speaks for themselves even less. But just like Johan Liebert from the anime Monster, even though they’re not seen too often, they still manage to exert a massive presence and impact within Undertale’s narrative. And that presence is made all the more impactful because they perfectly represent the themes of the narrative: and that theme is CONSEQUENCES, or more accurately, the CONSEQUENCES OF VIOLENCE.

From the violence that drove Chara to climb Mt Ebott to the violence their brother Asriel inflicted in hopes of being with them forever. From something as grand as a war between two civilizations to something as small as dismembering a snowman. Everywhere you look, you will see that violence (and its repercussions) haunts the story and characters of Undertale. But what makes Undertale stand out from other media that tackles this subject is that it’s not just an integral part of its narrative but also its metanarrative. The most ingenious way it does this is by giving meaning to the actions/mechanics that we take for granted, specifically monster encounters.

Our Lord and Saviour Toby Fox said it best:

Because the monsters of Undetale are treated as something more than just enemies to be killed, there are going to be consequences for choosing to kill them away. Some argue that it goes too far in how it admonishes you for killing even a single monster, even to the point of being preachy (I’m looking at you, ScottFalco, but that’s a response for another day).

That argument is deeply flawed because it fails to account for the fact that without these ramifications, the game’s themes would be rendered null and void. The last thing that a game with a narrative centred around the consequences of violence can afford to do is afford you the luxury of avoiding them. And that principle especially applies if you dare to choose nothing BUT violence. //////If you were to bring them all back as if nothing happened, then your decision to commit genocide would be completely meaningless, which would totally disservice Undertale themes regarding violence. There needs to be consequences. LASTING CONSEQUENCES. Undertale can’t drive home its messages and them without lasting consequences. Undertale can’t deliver those consequences without Chara in the driver’s seat. And Chara’s character can only be at their most narratively cohesive and thematically impactful if seeking to make us suffer consequences was their intended destination.

Regardless of whatever detail about Chara you’re discussing or what side of the discussion you’re on, one thing is very clear: they’re absolutely essential to Undertale in the same way that Mephistopheles is essential to Faust, the Cenobites are essential to Hellraiser, and Kuybey is essential to Madoka Magica. And they’re the only ones with the means, motives, and deep-seated misanthropy to hold this whole damn game together.

Sans is right. We deserve to be burning in hell for what we did to those poor monsters. And I can't think of anyone more qualified to have us humans “burning in hell” than a self-proclaimed demon with a seething hatred of humanity.

And how fitting is it that the skeleton who judges our sins is followed by a human child who punishes us for them?

BUT HEY, THAT'S JUST A THEORY!

A CHARA THEORY!

THANKS FOR READING!

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vettelsvee · 9 months ago

Text

THE "JOURNALIST" | Max Verstappen

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

max verstappen x journalist student!reader

summary: y/n is "scared" to interview max, and max is sick of journalists, especially newbies. however the sex appeal between them is more than obvious.

word count: 992

warnings: none of it really! just sexual tension between y/n and max. use of y/n

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

You were in the broadcast booth ready to report the results of the latest Formula 1 qualifying session. With your notebook and microphone in hand, you were poised to inform the audience about the exciting session results.

"Welcome back to our live broadcast from Silverstone!" you exclaimed cheerfully as you looked into the camera. "I think we should start discussing the results of the qualifying session for tomorrow's Sunday race as soon as possible."

With great enthusiasm and ensuring you had your notes in hand to avoid any mistakes, you began to list the names of the drivers and their positions on the starting grid:

"In first position, with an impressive fast lap, we have Lewis Hamilton, who has once again demonstrated his incredible skills on the track. In second place we have Max Verstappen, who is hot on the heels of the British in the championship standings. And in third position, but no less important, we have Charles Leclerc, whose improvement this season has been phenomenal, something he is quite proud of, as his partner exclusively shared with us."

You continued to read out the names of the drivers and their respective positions. However, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to Max Verstappen, the Dutch driver who she found quite attractive and, at the same time, respected due to his evident disdain towards the media.

"And in the last position, we have our dear Checo Pérez, who is having a fantastic season with Red Bull Racing but, due to an engine failure, was eliminated in Q3. It will undoubtedly be very exciting to see how these men fight for the podium in tomorrow's race!"

You continued to describe the results and the performance the drivers had shown in the qualifying session, highlighting their achievements and the challenges they would face the following day.

When it came time to talk about Max Verstappen, your voice tone changed slightly:

"As for Verstappen, the prodigal son of this new era in the world of motorsport, he has once again demonstrated his incredible talent," you said with as much seriousness as she could muster, "although it was not enough to surpass Hamilton this time."

You tried to stay focused on your speech despite the glances Verstappen was casting from the paddock while responding to other journalists. Without a doubt, Verstappen commanded a lot of respect from you: the fact that he disregarded the work of his future colleagues in the profession caused your considerable disdain, and at times, he could be quite disrespectful. You didn't want to imagine how he would treat you, being just a newbie.

Although it must be noted that you found yourself quite attracted to him.

After finally finishing the live broadcast and interviewing several drivers, with whom she had felt quite comfortable despite her nerves, it was your turn to face Max Verstappen.

"Hello, Max," you greeted the Dutchman. "First of all, I want to congratulate you on your second position in the qualifying."

"It's not the one my team and I were looking for."

You tried to ignore his response, moving on to a different but related question:

"Even though your result isn't what you desired, how do you feel about being in that position?" despite your fear, you dared to continue with the question, "Do you think you'll be able to beat Lewis?"

"I'm here to win," Max replied flippantly, "not to settle for second place."

"I understand, Max," you said, changing the subject, "with the aim of overtaking Hamilton, could you tell us what strategies both you and Red Bull Racing have in mind?"

You didn't need to see the poker face Max had directed at you to know you had overstepped by asking about strategies.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

Without even looking at you or saying goodbye, he turned around seemingly intending to leave the scene.

But Max Verstappen wasn't one to let anyone get the better of him, not even a mere student who didn't know how she was going to earn her degree because, without a doubt, she didn't know how to do her job properly.

"And what about you," he addressed you directly, shocking you in that moment. "What strategy would you propose to me to win the race?"

You had endured situations of underestimation in other newsrooms where you had interned, with quite nasty comments that had made you feel pretty bad. However, the sarcasm from the blue-eyed driver only drew her more to him.

"Maybe he's an asshole," you thought to yourself, "but he's a pretty hot asshole."

"Well…" you began. "Maybe instead of doing good broadcasts or getting top marks, I'll fuck one of you and, besides, gain fame."

Verstappen let out a sardonic laugh as he approached you. There was no doubt that he had not only surprised, but also pleased by what you had said.

"Really?" Max answered, a little excited, "Who would you take right now?"

"You seem like a complete asshole," you told him, "but I have to admit that I find it extremely difficult to ignore you."

"Why's that? Do you like what you see?"

The tension between both of you was more than evident.

You knew you couldn't continue this conversation, at least not in front of journalists, team bosses, and other people.

"If you want to set aside our personal relationship," the driver whispered to you as he lightly brushed your arm, "and get to know me better, prepare a good strategy for tonight."

"Verstappen," you replied, looking him directly in the eyes. "If you win tomorrow's race, don't hesitate to invite me to the private party you're going to throw, and I'll give you a night to make you feel special."

"Alright, Miss I-don't-know-your-name. A victory for one night."

If Max felt motivated to come in first tomorrow to beat Hamilton, now he felt even more so knowing he could have a girl begging for him.

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capquinn · 2 months ago

Note

Does Quinn do elf on a shelf with Bug and Cub?

girl, you can bet on dad!quinn taking his role as elf on the shelf co-coordinator with the utmost seriousness. like, truly — he’ll be treating this like it’s a full-time job with a performance review at the end lmao

“Okay,” he mutters, crouching on the floor and studying the tiny elf with an intensity that could rival his game tape analysis. “What if we set up a zip line? Between the bookshelf and the tree? They’d think that’s cool, right?”

You try to stifle your laugh, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “A zip line? You realise you’re talking about a kid who lost her mind last year when the elf just sat in a bowl of marshmallows?”

“Exactly,” he says, looking up at you with that boyish grin that still makes your stomach flip, even after all these years. “We’ve gotta step it up this year. Bug’s smart. She’s going to start asking questions if we don’t bring our A-game. Plus, it’s Cub’s first Christmas. He deserves something special.”

“Oh, our A-game?” you tease, quirking an eyebrow. “This feels a lot like your game plan. I’m just here to make sure you don't go completely overboard.”

Quinn scoffs, picking up the elf and turning it in his hands like it’s a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “Overboard? I’m not the one who suggested having him write notes in icing last year.”

“Okay, first of all,” you point a finger at him, “that was adorable. Second of all, it was your idea to have him spill the sprinkles everywhere.”

“True,” he concedes, but the glimmer in his eye says he isn’t done brainstorming.

By the time you both finish setting up for the night, the elf is precariously perched on a zip line Quinn had insisted was the perfect length — stretching from the bookshelf, past the twinkling Christmas tree, and down to the TV cabinet. The elf itself? Nestled in a repurposed Easter basket at the end of the line, surrounded by a chaotic tumble of candy canes as if they'd crash-landed in spectacular fashion.

“This is good,” Quinn says, stepping back and crossing his arms as he admires the handiwork. “It’s believable.”

You snort. “Believable? It’s an elf on a zip line, Quinn.”

But even you have to admit, it's fantastic. The candy canes, the tiny basket, the zip line stretching across the room — it's chaotic and whimsical and perfect. Bug is surely going to lose her mind, and Cub — well, he might not fully understand what’s happening, but you just know he’s going to be wrapped up in his sister’s energy, his tiny hands clapping and his little laugh bubbling up as he mirrors her excitement — and honestly, you can't wait to see their little faces.

And so the next morning arrives, and Bug’s shriek of delight breaks the stillness, and she’s off like a shot, her little feet pounding against the floor as she charges into the living room.

“He’s flying!” she exclaims, her voice an awed whisper by the time she reaches the elf. Her hands hover over her mouth as she stares at the zip line, her excitement bubbling over into giggles.

Cub trails behind her, still mastering the art of crawling, his chubby hands slapping against the floor with determination. He babbles loudly, clearly swept up in Bug’s enthusiasm even though he doesn’t quite understand what’s happening. When he finally reaches the Easter basket at the end of the zip line, his tiny fingers curl around a stray candy cane with the single-minded focus only a baby can muster.

“No, Cubby!” Bug gasps, darting forward and shielding the basket like her life depends on it. “You can’t touch him! He’s doing his elf job!”

Quinn appears just in time, crouching down to scoop Cub into his arms before he has a chance to undo all his handiwork.

“Whoa, buddy,” he says with a soft laugh, lifting Cub high into the air and eliciting a delighted squeal. “The elf’s got important work to do. No sabotage today.”

Bug tugs on Quinn’s sweatpants, her expression solemn, her wide eyes darting between him and the elf.

“Daddy, did he really fly here? Like… magic?”

Quinn lowers himself to her level, balancing Cub on his hip as the baby grabs at his hoodie string. “Absolutely,” he says, his tone serious, though the twinkle in his eye betrays him. “Do you think I could’ve set up something this cool? That’s all elf magic.”

Bug’s mouth drops open, her hands clasping dramatically in front of her chest as she whispers, “he's the best.” Her awe is palpable, her gaze glued to the tiny elf perched on the string.

Cub, meanwhile, has no patience for elves. His hands pat Quinn’s chest insistently, demanding attention with a flurry of babbles. Quinn leans his forehead gently against Cub’s, his voice soft as he whispers, “don’t worry, Cub. You’ll figure it out next year.”

You lean against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with a fond smile tugging at your lips. Bug turns to you, bouncing slightly on her toes.

“Mommy! Do you see? He’s so cool!”

“I see him, Bug,” you say, stepping closer to circle an an arm around Quinn’s waist, leaning into him. “Looks like the elf pulled out all the stops last night.”

Quinn tilts his head, brushing it lightly against yours. “Told you the zip line was genius,” he murmurs, his voice low and smug, though the warmth in his gaze softens the teasing. He nudges you lightly with his hip, the playful gesture drawing a quiet laugh from you.

Bug grabs his free hand, her eyes alight with anticipation. “Daddy, do you think he’ll do something even cooler tomorrow?”

Quinn glances at you, sharing a small smile like it’s your own little secret, before turning back to Bug.

“Oh, I’m sure he will,” he says, his tone full of playful assurance, giving your hip another gentle nudge as if to say, we’ve got this.

#he'd 100% send you ideas when he's on the road too and ask for video reactions since he can't be there <3 #dad!quinn #capquinn’s requests #capquinn's writing #quinn hughes x reader #quinnmas

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krirebr · 1 year ago

Text

Caught Up in Your Trap

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You spend your first day in your new home. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, drugging, training, punishment, isolation, injury, forced intimacy - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Uh, happy sin day, I guess?? 🤣 Because I am apparently incapable of just leaving a one-shot alone, this is a prequel to I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas spurred by some unhinged 4 AM thots. It is definitely the darkest thing I've written so far. Whoops.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who was not only the fantastic sounding board she always is, and let me ramble on about all my research into furnaces of all things but also helped me figure out the title for both this fic and the greater AU it's now a part of (🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously, Kris, just stop!). Hat tip to Bruce Springsteen for both, as well. I'm sure he'd be thrilled. 😂

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy pulled up at the address he’d been given, more surprised than he should have been that it was an abandoned warehouse. Of course, this sort of deal would be completed there. He should have known from the sorts of channels he’d had to go through to set it up. Connections left over from his days in the DA’s office. Well, that wasn’t the side of the law he was on anymore.

He walked into the large open space that made up most of the building to find a man standing in the middle of a few folding chairs. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing sharp but tight clothing. He wasn’t who caught Andy’s attention, though. No, that was you, slumped over in one of the chairs, wearing the clothes you must have been taken in. Even like this, he could tell your pictures hadn’t done you justice. You were absolutely perfect. Or you would be, once he was done.

“Barber!” the man called out, a satisfied smirk raising his mustache. “How nice of you to join us!”

“Hansen,” Andy answered evenly. He nodded at you, “She ok?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Just on enough horse tranqs to move her across the country without her realizing it. She’ll only be out for another day or so.”

Andy walked over to you. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I check for myself. With the amount of money I’m paying you.” Hansen gestured for him to go ahead, so he placed a gentle hand on the pulse in your neck, pleased to feel that it was strong and steady. He took a step back and opened the untraceable banking app on his phone. He clicked the transfer button, moving an ungodly amount of money from his numbered account in the Caymans to the account Lloyd had given him. “Alright,” he said, “the money’s in your account.”

The other man snapped his fingers and someone appeared out of the shadows, holding a tablet. “And I’m sure you don’t mind,” Hansen said as the new man tapped his screen, “if I check for myself. With the amount of work I’ve done for you.”

They all waited in tense silence for the confirmation of the transfer to come through. Andy couldn’t take his eyes off you, eager to finally get you home. After everything he’d been through, this was what he deserved. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life. And he was going to do it right this time, taking full control until he had exactly what he wanted. Nothing left to chance. It was costing him a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

The man with the tablet nodded at Hansen, who clapped his hands together. “Alright!” he said. “Let’s get this done. My men will get her settled in your car while we finish up.” Two more men came out from the edge of the room and started to put their hands on you. Andy couldn’t help the growl that came out of him. Hansen laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. ADA, they won’t hurt your precious new wife. You have my word.”

Andy gave a hesitant nod, as they carried you out of the warehouse, clicking the unlock button on his car fob so that they could get you settled. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you were gone.

Hansen reached down and picked up a thick folder. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Everything for her new identity, all in order, all immaculate. Marriage license. Anything from her old life you might need. Although I’d get what you need from those quickly and then burn them.”

Andy took the folder and briefly paged through it. New birth certificate, social security card, IDs, passport. Everything he’d need to start your new life. He put the folder in his briefcase. “Thank you. Anything else?”

Hansen smirked again. “Eager to get started?” He leered in the direction you’d disappeared. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Andy cleared his throat, not appreciating the way Hansen was talking about what was his. “Yes, I would like to get us both home. Are we done here?”

“Sure sure. You have a good time now,” he smirked.

Andy gave him a curt nod and then exited in the direction Hansen’s men had taken you. There was no sign of them by his car, but you were laid out across the backseat. He opened the door and leaned in to brush a gentle finger across your cheek. He wouldn’t be able to relax until you were secured inside his home. It was so close now.

This wasn’t your room. You’d woken up some time ago (you couldn’t say how long ago exactly. There were no clocks, no windows) in the most comfortable bed you’d ever felt. You thought it might swallow you up, it was so soft. Luxurious. The whole room was that way. Beautiful. Rich. You were dressed in a satin nightgown that wasn’t at all like anything you owned. You tried very hard not to think about the fact that someone must have changed you. The door was locked from the outside, a small keypad right under the doorknob. You tried banging on the door. Yelling for someone. Nothing. A quick exploration of the room hadn’t yielded anything either – the two other doors were also locked, a dresser held only men’s clothing. So you’d spent the last who knows how long just laying in the bed, trying not to panic or cry. You weren’t very successful at either.

The most disturbing thing you’d discovered since you’d woken up here was the set of rings on your left hand. One featured a large diamond, the other was a simpler band filled with comparatively tiny diamonds. The bands were fused together like you remembered your mom’s engagement and wedding rings being. It took a long time to normalize your breathing after that discovery.

Just as you were about to drift asleep again, for want of anything else to do, you heard a few soft beeps, the lock click, and the doorknob move. You leaped up and huddled in the far corner of the room between the wall and the bed, holding a pillow in front of you. There was nothing else in the room to use to defend yourself. Even the lamps were bolted down – you’d checked.

The door slowly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, over 6 feet, and broad. He had dark, soft-looking hair, and a well-kept beard. He wore a gray cotton tee and jeans. If your adrenaline hadn’t been spiking, you would have found him so handsome. But as it was, you pushed yourself further into the corner.

He was carrying a tray, which he set down on one of the nightstands. From your vantage point, you could see a glass of water and a bowl. You weren’t feeling inclined to take anything from this man.

Your eyes cautiously tracked him as he came around to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep but gentle.

You didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. He leveled you with a stern look that sent a chill down your spine. His voice was much more rigid when he said, “I expect an answer when I ask a question, sweetheart.”

You ignored him again, instead asking, “Who are you?”

He took a deep breath, flexing both hands. Extreme irritation passed over his face before it was replaced with a practiced calm. He sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come sit,” he said. You didn’t move. “Now,” he growled. Something in his tone made it clear, not only that he would move you himself if he had to, but even more so, that you didn’t want it to come to that. You got up and sat on the far edge of the bed. He reached over and grabbed your arm hard, dragging you into his side. You cried out but he shushed you. “Alright,” he said, “I will answer your question once you answer mine. How are you feeling?”

This was the most scared you’d ever been. You had to take a few deep breaths before you were able to say. “I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous. And I’m very scared.”

He gently took your hand in his and cooed at you. “That’d be the drugs they used to knock you out. You’ll feel better when they’re completely out of your system. Eating will help. You can have some soup once we’re done talking.” He paused, for what you didn’t know. You didn’t say anything. He smiled. “You can ask your question now. Good girl waiting for permission.”

Your head swung to look at him. That hadn’t been what you were doing. Had it? You were woozy and scared and just trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. That was most important, so you let his comment go and repeated your question. “Who are you?”

He squeezed your hand. “I’m your husband, sweetheart. My name is Andy.”

That was the answer you’d been terrified of since you’d seen the rings on your finger. He was fucking crazy. He had to be. The best you could do right now was to get as much information out of him as you could. “And where are we? Is this your house?” You were trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the tremor in it.

“This is our house, sweetheart. Just outside Boston.”

Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up in panic. “Boston?? No– That’s– How did I get here?!” This was even worse than you thought. You were nowhere near home, nowhere near anything familiar.

He just looked at you for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded and said, “Ok, I’m going to be honest and explain it to you, because I think it will help you understand your place here. But in the future, you need to know that I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Good wives don’t question their husband's actions. Now, since I’m going out of my way to make this clear for you, I expect you to sit quietly and listen. Can you do that for me?”

You clenched your hands into fists, wanting to rage at him for how he was speaking to you like a child, but you knew you needed this information. You needed everything you could get if you were going to get out of here, so you tried to control your breathing and nodded.

He looked at you like he wanted to scold you for something, but then visibly changed his mind and began. “I’ve had a hard life, the last few years especially, I’ve been through a lot. Things haven’t turned out the way they were supposed to. I wanted a family. I thought I had one, but– It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and then I lost even that. I wanted to try again, but I couldn’t put in all that effort without a guarantee that I wouldn’t wind up with nothing again.

“I’m a lawyer. I used to work as an ADA and now I’m in defense. In both jobs, I’ve made a lot of connections with people from different walks of life. Through that, I found a man who provides a service – if you let him know what you’re looking for, he’ll find you a person who fills those needs. So I told him that I was looking for someone to build a family with, a good wife. He presented me with a few options, and I chose you. For a hefty price, his men picked you up and brought you here. They also put together all new paperwork for you, a whole new identity. The old you doesn’t exist anymore, do you understand? You’re Mrs. Barber now, property of your husband. I bought and paid for you. I own you, every part of you.”

You saw his hand start to move toward your thigh and you jumped up, quickly pressing yourself against the wall. You just stared at him for a moment and then the panic truly hit you, but this time, it was accompanied by blinding anger. “That’s human trafficking, you complete fucking psycho! The fuck is wrong with you?!” Once you’d started screaming, you couldn’t stop. “You can’t just buy a wife, you fucking cuck! I’m a person! People are going to look for me!” He stood up and came at you and you swung out with your fists, your nails, your knees, whatever you fucking could. You connected a few times, drew a grunt from him before he somehow pinned your wrists behind your back. You screamed as loud as you could, but it did nothing.

He frog-marched you out of the room as he said, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but you need a timeout, honey. Some time to calm down in the quiet room, and then we can try again and go over the rules. You just need some time to think by yourself.”

You tried to pay attention as he pushed you through what looked like a little apartment: a living room, a kitchenette. He stopped at an innocuous-looking door with a keypad on it, just like the one in the bedroom. He turned you away so you couldn’t see as he entered the code, one hand still keeping your wrists in a bruising grip. Before you’d even realized he’d opened the door, he was shoving you into the room so hard you briefly left the ground. The door slammed shut behind you. You hit the floor hard and groaned. You stumbled up onto your hands and knees. You heard another beep, then the grinding of a lock. Then nothing.

The room was pitch black. You weren’t even sure where the door was now, as there wasn’t any light coming through the cracks. You crawled around, trying to get an idea of the space. It was small and empty as far as you could tell. But there was a low rumbling noise that seemed to fill the room. You couldn’t pinpoint the source just from listening, it felt like it was coming from everywhere. The floor under your hands was bare, concrete. Your hands brushed through cobwebs and other detritus you couldn’t see. You cautiously held a hand out as you continued to try to map out the room, terrified you’d smack your face right into the wall. It made contact with something hot and sharp. You pulled it back with a hiss, pain radiating through your palm. You felt the first few wet drops. Shit. You were bleeding. You’d cut yourself. Fuck. “Hey!” you called out as loud as you could. There was no answer. “Hey!” you tried again, “I’m hurt! I’m bleeding!” No response. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You were screaming now. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET ME OUT!” Nothing. God, this room was already lightproof, maybe it was soundproof, too. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, wouldn’t know you were hurt. You couldn’t tell how badly you’d cut your hand so you raised it above your head, hoping that might at least slow down the bleeding. It was dirty you were sure. God, how long did it take for cuts to get infected? You hoped you wouldn’t find out. You didn’t even know what you’d cut it on. What if it was rusty? Shit, when was your last tetanus booster? You couldn’t remember exactly. Fuck. You really didn’t want to die from tetanus in some random basement in Massachusetts. A tear rolled down your cheek. He couldn’t leave you in here too long, could he? No. He would come get you soon.

You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, your knees pulled up to your chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other still held in the air. Your shoulder was so sore, but you were too worried to lower your hand. You wished you could see the cut, know exactly how bad it was. You wished you knew how much time had passed. With no frame of reference, no external indicators, you were afraid you’d lost the ability to tell the difference between hours and minutes. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. How long was he going to leave you here? He had to come back soon. He had to. You took some perverse comfort in the fact that he’d spent a lot of money on you. That had to mean that he wouldn’t just leave you here. He’d want a return on his investment. You tried to ignore the chills that thought gave you.

You’d been crying on and off. It made you feel pathetic but what else were you supposed to do? The panic, too, ebbed and flowed. You’d been trying to keep your breathing even, trying to ignore how small the space was, how dirty, how dark. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. It wasn’t doing much to calm you, but at least it gave you something to focus on.

Just as a fresh wave of tears overtook you, a blinding light came in, directly opposite you. You squinted and raised your uninjured hand in front of your eyes, but that didn’t do much to help.

“Oh sweetheart,” Andy’s voice cooed, before gently lifting you by your arms and herding you out. He half-carried you through the finished part of the basement while your eyes continued to adjust. Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom you’d started in. He gently sat you down on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you. You felt dazed. The room was too bright. You didn’t know how you could keep breaking the record for the most scared you’d ever been. There had to be a ceiling, a limit. You’d hit it soon, wouldn’t you?

You still had your hand raised and cradled to your chest. Andy touched your wrist and you flinched. He raised an eyebrow in question and you whispered, “I got hurt.” He sighed and gently tugged at your wrist again. This time you let him guide your arm down, moving your hand so you both could see it. It was a little grimy and definitely red, slightly swollen maybe. There was a little dried blood, but not much. The cut was so much more shallow than you’d imagined when you were trapped in that room alone. You felt incredibly foolish. You’d thought you were going to lose your hand over a glorified paper cut.

Andy carefully moved his thumb over a raised patch under the cut that you now realized was a minor burn. “Did you touch the furnace?” The furnace – that’s what’d been making that noise. That’s what you’d cut yourself on. That’s where he’d thrown you. What the fuck? You were lucky you hadn’t hurt yourself even worse. You looked up from your hand to see him frowning at you. “Why would you do that? Sweetheart, you have to be more careful. That was a very stupid thing to do.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, opening a cabinet under the sink.

Was he seriously scolding you for getting hurt in a dangerous room he’d locked you in?? The rage from earlier was starting to return, but it was still tempered by your fear. You did your best to keep your voice even when you replied, “It was completely dark in there. I couldn’t see anything.” A little growl came through your words, but it wasn’t anything compared to what you were actually feeling.

He came back holding a small first-aid kit. “Well then that’s a good reason to keep your hands to yourself, isn’t it?” He sat down and opened the kit, pulling out a few wipes and beginning to somewhat roughly clean your hand. “Sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. That’s my job as your husband. But I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in harm’s way.”

“You threw me in there!” you said, your voice starting to get louder, despite your best efforts to keep calm.

“Because you were bad and needed a time-out!” he yelled back at you. He threw the dirty wipes into the trashcan beside the bed and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He grabbed an ointment from the kit and began applying it to your hand. “That’s why we’re going to talk about rules now. They’re there to keep you safe and both of us happy. When you don’t follow them, something like this can happen.”

You didn’t say anything. You had to be smart if you were ever going to get out of here and antagonizing him wasn’t smart. He didn’t seem to expect a response anyway as he just silently placed a bandage on your hand and then got up and put the kit away. He came back and sat right next to you, turning so he could look into your eyes. You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced eye contact.

“Alright,” he said, his tone already so fucking patronizing. “A good thing that came out of your little tantrum is that now we know the areas we need to focus on most for improvement – manners, respect, and attitude. I did some thinking during your quiet time too, and I’ve adjusted your training schedule to focus on these things. It’ll be good for both of us.”

What the actual fucking fuck? “Training schedule?” was all you managed to get out.

Andy nodded. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we’re in the basement right now. I have a beautiful big house upstairs that I can’t wait to show you. But you’re going to have to earn it first, prove to me that you know how to be good, that I can trust you before we can go upstairs. That’s what the training will do. I’m going to teach you exactly how to be perfect for me, everything I want, and in return I’m going to give you a perfect life, so much better than what you had before. We’re going to be so happy together, sweetheart. I promise.

“Now, it’s going to take time. I understand that. And I’m going to be patient with you. I know what your life was like before. I know that you probably never expected that you’d ever get to have this. Change can be scary. Dreams coming true, it’s scary. But I’ll be here to guide you through it all. I’m going to give you everything and all I ask of you in return is that you be good for me. That’s all.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob. What the hell was this? How could this man, this stranger, be so completely deranged? Be smart, you chanted to yourself. Be smart be smart be smart. And if you opened your mouth now, you knew exactly what would come out. So you kept it shut and let him continue.

“So first, let’s talk about your tantrum. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. The language and the names, it’s unacceptable. So, no swearing going forward. And I think a good rule for you while we’re downstairs will be for you to address me as Sir. Once we’ve moved upstairs, you’ll be allowed to call me Andy, but whenever we’re down here, it’s Sir. Do you understand?” He looked at you expectantly. You clenched your jaw and nodded. “I expect a verbal response when I speak to you, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gritted out. He raised an eyebrow at you and his gaze hardened. It took you a moment to realize your mistake. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Very good. As your husband, I expect you to give me the respect I deserve. That’s something we’ll work on. It’s very important that you don’t question me. I know what’s best for you and you need to trust that I will give you whatever information you need to have. If I haven’t told you something, it’s because you don’t need to know, ok?”

He paused again. What kind of Stepford hell was this? What had you done to deserve this? You took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, finally, you were able to force out a “Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “You’re so smart, sweetheart. You’ll be upstairs in no time. Now, you’ll start learning your routine tomorrow. I’ve taken some time off work for our honeymoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to get you settled and acclimated. We’ll go over wardrobe and makeup requirements in the morning too. Now,” he slapped his thighs and stood up, “your soup from earlier went cold, so how about I go get you a fresh bowl while you take a quick shower and get all that dust and grime from the Quiet Room off you?”

You held back a grimace at him calling that room that, as he walked over to one of the other doors and unlocked it. He talked to you like you were a child. All of this was so fucked up. But a shower sounded incredible. You had no idea how long it’d been since you’d had one. So you just nodded and let out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

He beamed at you. “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

You stood and waited til he was out the door, listening to the beeps and grinding locks once he was gone. Shit. You were really fucked. You went into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. There was no lock on the inside. Of course, there wasn’t.

You didn’t waste much time in the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower. You vaguely registered that the counter was stocked with all sorts of beauty aids – expensive lotions and serums like he’d bought out a department store beauty counter. The shower too, was equally well stocked. So much fancier than the Target sale items you usually stocked your bathroom with. But the shower felt incredible and that’s what you chose to focus on.

When you were finished, you came out of the shower to see that the bathroom door was open. You could hear Andy moving around in the bedroom. You shuddered and quickly wrapped a plush towel around yourself. There was a fresh nightgown waiting for you, soft pink, all silk and lace. You grimaced and wondered what you’d need to do to get a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt to sleep in. Probably more than you were willing to do, if it was even possible. You dried off quickly and slipped the nightgown on.

When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, the tray of food sitting next to him. There was a bowl of soup and a cup of water, along with a small plate with a few crackers. The dishes and utensils were all plastic. Nothing you could hurt him with. You sat down and watched him carefully as you lifted the tray onto your lap. He didn’t say anything so it must have been allowed. Your hand shook as you brought the first spoonful up to your lips. The soup was warm, not hot, certainly not scalding. Another hope dashed. Throwing it at him would only result in him getting wet. And angry. Not worth it.

As you ate, you realized just how hungry you actually were. The nausea from whatever drugs you’d had had covered it up, but you were starving. You barely even tasted the soup, you just needed to eat. God, how long had it been since you’d had food? You wouldn’t bother asking Andy. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.

After he watched you eat for a few minutes, he said, “What do you say, sweetheart?”

God, he used that word like it was your name. It made you want to scream. You swallowed down all your anger and a spoonful of soup before you said, “Thank you, sir.”

He gave you a satisfied smile. “See,” he said, “I knew you had good manners.”

You shoved the spoon into your mouth to prevent any sort of comeback. This fucking asshole. Luckily he let you eat the rest of your meal in peace. But he never took his eyes off you.

Once you were done, Andy put the tray on the dresser and then declared it bedtime. You watched him cautiously, as he went to the dresser and took out a pair of boxers and a cotton tee. He changed right in the middle of the room and you turned your head away. You caught flashes of skin, that if he’d been anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have had you drooling. It was becoming hard to breathe again. What else would he demand from you tonight?

You chanced a glance back up at him to find him changed and staring at you. You swallowed nervously. “Come here,” he said firmly, holding his hand out to you. You slowly, so slowly, made your way to him. As soon as you were in reach, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you the rest of the way in so that you were nestled into his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking one hand down your back, “that we’re both thinking about our first time together, but I’d like to wait.” He ran the fingers of his other hand down the strap of your nightgown, slipping onto your bare skin. “Give you a chance to get fully adjusted. Give us both a chance to get to know each other.” His voice slipped down an octave as his fingers traveled across your chest. Your body bowed to get away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Give us a chance to enjoy each other.” His breath hitched as his hand traveled down to your breast, the other hand on your back had stilled, holding you close, stopping you from getting away. He moved his head as close as he could to yours and whispered, “I want it to be special.” Then, before you could try to back away, he was kissing you. It was firm and demanding, giving you no option but to let it happen. He angled his growing erection into your thigh, and with the way he was holding you, you couldn’t lean away from it. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you whimpered. It felt like it might go on forever, when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispered.

And then he was out of your space, leaving you trying to breathe again, alone in the middle of the room, as he climbed into the bed. You just stood there, unsure of what to do, your lips still tingling. Once he was settled on the side of the bed closest to the door, he called your name. “Come to bed now,” he said, and there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order. You ducked your head and climbed onto the bed, terrified of what might come next, but also desperate for sleep. This day had left you exhausted and confused and scared and so angry. It was all too much.

You tried to lie down as close to the edge as you could, but he pulled you in close so that your back was flush to his front, his arm thrown over your waist. “I'm so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair, “getting through your first day without having to go to the punishment room.”

Your mouth went completely dry. A room you hadn’t been to. Somewhere worse than the quiet room. “What's–” your tongue struggled to form the words. You took a breath and tried again. “What's the punishment room?” You caught yourself at the last minute and added a quiet “Sir.”

His hand caressed your side. “You keep being my good girl and you won't have to find out.”

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