#The silent hero's savior. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hollowed-theory-hall · 6 months ago

Note

your post on harry’s handwriting was an eye-opener for me! ik his writing resembled his mother some and is decent overall, but i’ve never seen pics of it!

idk where the horde of fanfic writers came up with the weird notion that harry has bad/chicken scratch handwriting, which triggers me every. time. they make out his handwriting to be messy, his eating habits sloppy, his speech behaviour bumbling, his appearance unkempt, and that he’s rather messy as a person. which boggles the mind, because he’s used to cleaning up after the dursleys and probably enjoys an orderly space, if not super spic and span??? is it only certain fandoms, cuz they make the other character(s) all elegance personified and well-mannered? like, harry already is a well-mannered boy, otherwise petunia would’ve been tutting, clucking, and dying of shame even more before the nieghbours lmaoo. idk whether to cry or laugh, and sometimes it’s such a turn-off that i choose to rage quit fics.

please, if you have the time, i would love a thorough breakdown/meta on how harry actually comes across as a person!

Okay, I have so much to say about this. And omg, Harry's chicken scratch handwriting is one of my pet peeves in fics (here's the handwriting post, btw). Harry's characterization when done wrong in general, tbh is a huge turn-off for me. Becouse I love Harry, he's my boy.

So, what we're gonna look at is how other characters in the books perceive Harry, how he comes across in universe to people who can't read his mind (like we can, as the readers).

I'll start with a general note about how most characters in the books don't really know Harry. This is mostly because Harry, contrary to fanon interpretations, is a very private person and rarely talks about himself/his feelings/his thoughts out loud. This is a habit I believe was ingrained into him by the Dursleys.

Like, I mentioned in the past Harry doesn't talk as much as other characters. Scenes of the trio usually consist of mostly Ron and Hermione talking, for example. This is not becouse he doesn't have thoughts (he's quite judgmental inside his head, and we know he has a lot to say), but becouse he's used to not voicing a lot of them thanks to the Dursleys.

This essay turned out pretty long, but here we go:

How do others see Harry?

Harry comes off as confident. Harry is a defiant and courageous person, and this often comes off as confidence to other people. It's why Snape thinks Harry is arrogant and why most students are always sure Harry meant to do what he did. They think he has shit together because he comes off like he does:

Harry stayed silent. Snape was trying to provoke him into telling the truth. He wasn’t going to do it. Snape had no proof — yet. “How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter,” Snape said suddenly, his eyes glinting. “He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers . . . The resemblance between you is uncanny.” “My dad didn’t strut,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “And neither do I.”

(PoA, Ch14)

Snape sees Harry as arrogant, when in fact Harry is just defiant and intelligent.

“But you’ve been too busy saving the Wizarding world,” said Ginny, half laughing. “Well ... I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

(HBP, Ch30)

Ginny (and other characters) believe he likes to save the wizarding world. That he is this confident hero and savior. I mean, they believe her lie about the tattoo, which says a lot:

and all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it’s true you’ve got a hippogriff tattooed across your chest.” Ron and Hermione both roared with laughter. Harry ignored them. “What did you tell her?” “I told her it’s a Hungarian Horntail,” said Ginny, turning a page of the newspaper idly. “Much more macho.”

(HBP, Ch25)

Harry doesn't see himself as leader material, but it's clear everyone else does:

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” said Hermione. “Harry’s leader,” said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad, and Harry’s stomach did yet another back flip. “Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?” Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly. “Er — right, thanks,” said Harry, who could feel his face burning.

(OotP, Ch18)

Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of delight, leapt down from the mantelpiece and yelled. “I knew you’d come! I knew it, Harry!”

(DH, Ch28)

“Look who it is! Didn’t I tell you?” As Harry emerged into the room beyond the passage, there were several screams and yells: “HARRY!” “It’s Potter, it’s POTTER!” “Ron!” “Hermione!” [...] “Are you all right, Harry?” Neville was saying. “Want to sit down? I expect you’re tired, aren’t—?” “No,” said Harry. He looked at Ron and Hermione, trying to tell them without words that Voldemort has just discovered the loss of one of the other Horcruxes. Time was running out fast: If Voldemort chose to visit Hogwarts next, they would miss their chance. “We need to get going,” he said, and their expression told him that they understood. “What are we going to do, then, Harry?” asked Seamus. “What’s the plan?” “Plan?” repeated Harry. He was exercising all his willpower to prevent himself succumbing again to Voldemort’s rage: His scar was still burning. “Well, there’s something we—Ron, Hermione, and I—need to do, and then we’ll get out of here.” Nobody was laughing or whooping anymore. Neville looked confused.

(DH, Ch29)

Everyone expected Harry in DH to have a plan of attack the moment he arrived because that's how he acts. Even in the above scene, he's in terrible pain from his scar, but the others don't see it. What they see is a Harry who looks exhausted but says no to rest because there's work to be done and they expect this of him. They see someone fearless and capable with a plan who could lead them, but this isn't what we see because we're inside his head.

How Harry doesn't speak much and acts overall quite distant, as in, he actively avoids the girls who fancy him:

Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls. “Hi, Harry!” said a familiar voice from behind him. “Neville!” said Harry in relief, turning to see a round-faced boy struggling toward him

(HBP, Ch7)

And he only has two close friends and barley knows the other students in his year. Most students only know Harry Potter from the stories, rumors, and Dumbledore's end-of-the-year speeches about his heroism. They have no clue who the real Harry is — so they expect the hero they do hear about.

He stands his ground a lot (again, defiance):

Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen’s red face inches from his own. He stepped back hastily. “His sister didn’t really try,” said McLaggen menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one Harry had often admired in Uncle Vernon’s. “She gave him an easy save.” “Rubbish,” said Harry coldly. “That was the one he nearly missed.”

(HBP, Ch11)

And more often than not, he does so coldly and calmly. A lot of his more fiery anger is a sign of trauma with Harry, his baseline anger reaction is cold.

All of this adds to him appearing to others as controlled, confident, and like he has everything together and could never have any issues. He comes off as this bigger than life person to most people. Snape isn't the only one who reads Harry's behavior as confident. But it's actually far from the truth.

We, as the readers, see how depressed Harry is. How lowly he thinks of himself and how much he doesn't think of himself as anything special when he very clearly is. But the fact he doesn't say any of it and has mastered the skill of acting cold and like everything is fine when he literally wants to die at the age of 5, no one knows. Even Ron and Hermione didn't truly realize the full extent of Harry's low self-worth until 5th year.

The other students are shocked to see Harry as angry as he is in book 5 because he's often way more controlled and well-mannered than that. They're used to seeing him cold and quiet, not firey. Most of his fire stays inside his head unless he's really angry or emotional in general (or traumatized):

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated. “Harry, no!” Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach. “So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?” Harry asked, his voice shaking. There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night that Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge

(OotP, Ch12)

The shock of the other students, I believe, is because of what he's saying, yes, but it's also because Harry is behaving very unlike him here. He usually doesn't shout at teachers or anyone, really. He rarely speaks in classes actually.

And regarding his confidence, everyone, Ron and Hermione included, was sure Harry is super skilled and that that's how he evaded Voldemort:

“You don’t know what it’s like! You — neither of you — you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me —” “We weren’t saying anything like that, mate,” said Ron, looking aghast. “We weren’t having a go at Diggory, we didn’t — you’ve got the wrong end of the —” He looked helplessly at Hermione, whose face was stricken.

(OotP, Ch15)

They didn't for a second think he wasn't confident in his own abilities because Harry acts in a way that comes off as confident and capable. It's why everyone so easily accepts him as a leader under various circumstances. He acts level-headed while he's terrified, so everyone thinks he knows what he's doing except Harry (and the reader). Ron and Hermione had zero doubts Harry's skill was a big part of why he survived book 4, it's only Harry who doesn't think that.

The fact Snape bothered to extract his own memories during his Occlumancy lessons goes to show how he thinks Harry is talented, contrary to his words. He feared Harry would reverse the connection and see into his mind, otherwise he wouldn't have taken these precautions.

Think of Voldemort’s resurrection even. Inside his mind, we know Harry's terrified. We know he has no idea what he's doing.

But imagine being a Death Eater in the crowd and you see this 14-year-old kid stand up after being Crucio-ed by their lord, and he stands up, resists the imperius, and shouts at your lord like he thinks of himself as equal to him — or, perhaps, better than him:

“I asked you whether you want me to do that again,” said Voldemort softly. “Answer me! Imperio!” [...] I WON’T!” And these words burst from Harry’s mouth; they echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been thrown over him — back rushed the aches that the Cruciatus Curse had left all over his body — back rushed the realization of where he was, and what he was facing. . . . “You won’t?” said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now.

(GoF, Ch34)

That's pretty badass. Harry comes off like a confidant badass. And he gets more badass and confident as he matures (even if he isn't actually as confident as he appears).

Even in the DoM, Lucius Malfoy, who was in the graveyard, takes Harry seriously:

“Don’t do anything,” he [Harry] muttered. “Not yet —” The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter. “You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!” “Oh, you don’t know Potter as I do, Bellatrix,” said Malfoy softly. “He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter.”

(OotP, Ch35)

Bellatrix makes fun of how Harry gives the other kids orders as if they're going to fight, but Lucius knows better, he knows Harry is going to fight, and I think, he's scared of what would happen when he does. Even Bellatrix quickly starts taking Harry more seriously:

“Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter,” she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. “Very well, then —”

(OotP, Ch35)

And she changes her tone completely after he casts a Crucio at her:

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now.

(OotP, Ch36)

His aura is one of competence and confidence even when he's frightened and has no idea what he's doing. Especially when he's frightened and has no idea what he's doing.

And for the most part, he doesn't come off nearly as judgmental as he actually is, because he doesn't say a lot of what he thinks. We only see him start to actually speak his mind and be more sassy out loud around 5th and 6th year. And even then, his highly judgmental physical descriptions stay part of his narration, they aren't spoken:

“That’s the bell,” said Harry listlessly, because Ron and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. They did not stop arguing all the way down to Snape’s dungeon, which gave Harry plenty of time to reflect that between Neville and Ron he would be lucky ever to have two minutes’ conversation with Cho that he could look back on without wanting to leave the country.

(OotP, Ch12)

Ron and Hermione banter while Harry feels done with them, but he doesn't really say anything or complain. He keeps a lot of his thoughts inside his head.

If we look at how Ron, Hermione, and Sirius see Harry, they're the closest to who Harry actually is as these three know Harry best. (They're also more objective than Harry who looks down on himself)

After the book 5 conversation I mentioned above, Ron and Hermione are more aware of Harry's insecurities, but they find them silly. They see Harry as incredibly capable and skilled:

“Did he?” said Harry. Behind him he felt rather than heard Hermione passing his message to the others and he sought to keep talking, to distract the Death Eaters.

(OotP, Ch35)

“What are we going to do with them?” Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, “Kill them? They’d kill us. They had a good go just now.” Hermione shuddered and took a step backward. Harry shook his head. “We just need to wipe their memories,” said Harry.

(DH, Ch9)

When danger comes, everyone's instantly following Harry's lead. Harry's the planner when the situation is dangerous, he calls the shots, not Hermione. Hermione and Ron look to Harry for a plan when things get tough, and Harry always figures something out. Now, we see Harry thinking he has no idea what to do:

He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville’s arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking. He could feel one of the other’s quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.

(OotP, Ch35)

But Ron and Hermione don't. No one does. They just see Harry coming up with a plan to save them. Every time. They don't see him wracking his brain for a way to keep everyone alive.

Hermione never considers Harry stupid, not even in first year:

“I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. “Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!”

(PS, Ch16)

And Ron clearly doesn't expect stupid behavior from Harry. He's surprised and shocked when Harry does something he considers stupid:

“What the hell,” panted Ron, holding up the Horcrux, which swung backward and forward on its shortened chain in some parody of hypnosis, “didn’t you take this thing off before you dived?”

(DH, 19)

Both Ron and Hermione trust Harry's opinion and they trust him to know what to do when shit hits the fan. When things are dangerous, both Ron and Hermione (and everyone else) turn to Harry to know what to do becouse that's the aura he has:

“I’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit,” said Lupin, then hesitated slightly. “And I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.” Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were full of tears. “Nearly always right,” she repeated.

(DH, Ch22)

Hermione agrees with Lupin's assessment here. Dumbledore did too, he's the one who told Kingsley and Remus to trust Harry's instincts. Harry doesn't give the impression he's messy and bumbling, quite the opposite. Yes, Harry and Hermione have their doubts, they don't agree with Harry on everything, especially when he has no evidence for his claim except his intuition. But, it's telling Harry can make claims based on gut feeling and Ron and Hermione ask him why he thinks that instead of just instantly rejecting the claims.

Like I mentioned above, he looks like he has his shit together even when he really doesn't. He's an expert in keeping a mask on and bottling up his feelings.

Sirius, also sees Harry as mature and capable for his age. It's why he's so insistent on telling him things while Molly wants to cuddle Harry:

“I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back” (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), “he has more right than most to —” “He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —” “— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —” “No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still—” “He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently.

(OotP, Ch5)

Between them, Sirius sees Harry more accurately. Harry is incredibly mature and capable and wants to be in the know. He'd be better off in the know. Sirius understands Harry's curiosity which Molly seems unaware of. Lupin also remarks on how Harry is going to find out things anyway, he's aware of how curious and determined Harry is. Sirius considers Harry capable even during PoA and GoF:

I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you.

(GoF, Ch18)

Molly, on the other hand, never really sees Harry's capabilities. Molly only ever sees a polite, intelligent kid. In the early years at the Weasley, Harry barely talks to Molly and Arthur because he doesn't really know how to talk to them. So they talk to him, the other Weasleys talk around him, and he's polite in turn:

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —”

(CoS, Ch3)

Harry acts around most adults like this, especially when younger. It's clear he acted this way around his teachers too:

“You see what you expect to see, Severus,” said Dumbledore, without raising his eyes from a copy of Transfiguration Today. “Other teachers report that the boy is modest, likable, and reasonably talented. Personally, I find him an engaging child.”

(DH, Ch33)

Snape got it a bit different. Because Harry is defiant and sassy — it's how he responds to the Dursleys, and this is how he responds to threats he can't do anything about in general. Sass. It's why we see Harry do this with Umbridge, Snape, and Scrimgeour:

Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice. “Hmm, let’s think . . .” said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, “maybe Lord Voldemort?”

(OotP, Ch12)

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?” “Yes,” said Harry stiffly. “Yes, sir.” “There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”

(HBP, Ch9)

“...You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!” “It’s time you earned it.” said Harry.

(DH, Ch7)

Harry appears confidant and arrogant not only to Snape but to Scrimgeour too (I think other students at Hogwarts see Harry as arrogant too. His demeanor can come off as arrogant if you don't know what he's thinking. It's why they could believe the Daily Prophet, it fit what they got to see). It's because he is rude and sassy when speaking his mind. It's because he acts more confident when he's terrified. It's because he's cold, distant, and uncaring towards most people and actively avoids talking to most.

And even that's mostly when he's older. In 4th year, he responds to Snape by glaring at him silently and wishing he could cast a Crucio at him:

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, Ch18)

Harry is overall really quiet, which does create the impression of him being put together. More than he thinks of himself, for sure. It also adds to why many students feel as comfortable talking about him as they do because he feels distant to them. His quiet makes him feel mysterious, unknown, and far away. Like a symbol rather than a person.

Something I want to note, specifically with Umbridge, is this scene:

Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. “Yes?” “Nothing,” said Harry quietly. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into his skin, once again they healed over seconds later.

(OotP, Ch13)

Part of why Harry comes off as such a put-together badass is that he doesn't let others see his pain. He doesn't show he's in pain to others, especially when it's people he doesn't like. He acts though, constantly.

He hates crying in front of others becouse Harry does everything he can to not appear weak:

Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn’t see.

(PoA, Ch12)

And it works, people see him as confident, and capable, and heroic. Most people don't see the struggle because Harry keeps bottling it in.

Even with Hermione, he tries not to let her see how upset he actually is. We know in his head, that he is devastated by his wand breaking, that he's mourning it like it was a dead loved one, but this is what he's willing to show Hermione:

“It was an accident,” said Harry mechanically. He felt empty, stunned. “We’ll—we’ll find a way to repair it.” [...] “Well,” he said, in a falsely matter-of-fact voice, “well, I’ll just borrow yours for now, then. While I keep watch.”

(DH, Ch17)

All this means, we, as the readers , see Harry's pain, his struggles, his vulnerability — but the other characters almost never do.

The only character who is consistently aware of Harry's struggles is Sirius who Harry confides his weaknesses to more than any other character:

“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously. “I’m —” For a second, Harry tried to say “fine” — but he couldn’t do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he’d talked in days

(GoF, Ch19)

Harry is so used to saying his fine and bearing his burdens in silence. It's what he does. It's what he did for years. Most characters think Harry is unshakable because that's how he acts.

Even when Harry tries to lie so Sirius won't worry, Sirius sees through it:

Nice try, Harry. I’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts.

(GoF, Ch15)

As for his room and appearance, he is a little messy actually when he has the chance to be in seventh year:

Harry had spent the morning completely emptying his school trunk for the first time since he had packed it six years ago. At the start of the intervening school years, he had merely skimmed off the topmost three quarters of the contents and replaced or updated them, leaving a layer of general debris at the bottom—old quills, desiccated beetle eyes, single socks that no longer fit.

(DH, Ch2)

As in, his trunk is a bit of a mess. But this makes sense, I think. He allows himself to be messy when he doesn't have the Dursleys over his head. It's like a sort of freedom he didn't have before, so he indulges in it. I think the mess in his trunk is also a result of him actually living from it for 6 years, as he couldn't really leave everything at home with the Dursleys, could he? Still, his room and belongings are nowhere near as messy as Ron's.

As for his appearance, the only thing mentioned to be messy is his hair:

His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been — stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it

(PoA, Ch1)

But from other characters (including Hermione) thinking Harry's hot:

“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.”

(HBP, Ch11)

We can conclude Harry's messy hair comes off as cool and attractive and not like a bird's nest.

We also see from Hermione and others that Harry looks scary. He is 5'11 by book 6 with an intimidating glare and that he looks like he can throw a punch, (and can definitely throw a punch when he wants to). So he has a physical intimidation factor when older:

“Well, it’s like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,” said Hermione impatiently, “and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn’t usually show them to us before N.E.W.T. level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren’t they? The way some people can see them and some can’t! I wish I could.” “Do you?” Harry asked her quietly. She looked horrorstruck. “Oh Harry — I’m sorry — no, of course I don’t — that was a really stupid thing to say —”

(OotP, Ch21)

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach — “Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!” He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled “IMPEDIMENTA!” and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .

(OotP, Ch19)

To summarise

Harry bottles up a lot of his emotions and tends to be quiet, this creates the often wrong impression he is confident and has his shit together.

He doesn't show pain and weakness to others and doesn't cry or show he's upset to basically anyone (except Sirius). This means basically no one sees his struggles or how depressed and traumatized Harry actually is. It even surprises Ron and Hermione in book 5.

He is defiant and rude to people he doesn't like, especially when scared, the result is that he appears like a very capable and confident badass especially when under pressure.

He can be intimidating with his glare alone and once he's older he is a physical presence. He's not someone who can disappear in a crowd post-book 5.

His rudeness oftentimes stays in his head except when someone really annoys him. This makes him appear defiant, but overall polite because he keeps most of his mean comments to himself.

When younger, he is very polite and quiet, especially toward adults. When he's older, he gets a little sassier (as in, he says some of his internal monologue out loud). But he is a polite, well-mannered kid for the most part.

The character who has a messy room, is a bit of a slob, has chicken scratch handwriting, and is lazy with schoolwork, is Ronald Weasley, who I love dearly, but these descriptions have nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with Ron.

The only unkempt thing about Harry's appearance is likely his Potter hair, which is more messy hot than messy bad (if all the girls' reactions are anything to go by).

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedtheory #harry potter meta #asks #anonymous #harry james potter #my best boy hjp

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austinbutlerslovers · 11 months ago

Text

Benny Cross: The Bikeriders Fantasy

Label Mature 18+

Chapter 1 Handsome Stranger 🔗 Chapter 2 🔗 Chapter 3 🔗 Chapter 4 🔗Chapter 5 🔗Chapter 6

Summary Heading out late to help spot a friend for cash at a local bar leads you into a den of wolves. Bikers frequent the place intimating you and sexually harassing you as you try to enjoy the evening with you friend. As she gets your drinks leaving you momentarily alone you become so frightened you want to cut the night short and leave. That is until you see the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on in your life. Benny, the handsome alluring biker that takes your breath away. The night is filled with wild twists and turns as you navigate your newfound feelings for this attractive stranger in your contrasting worlds.

10k word count

♠️ Passionate Smut ♠️ Slow burn • savior/hero complex•independent female•propositioned by Benny •Benny claiming you•Benny wants to be yours •stimulating make outs• nipple play• oral fem • fingering fem• body worship•extreme orgasms •missionary• raw• creampie • after care

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia 💭 Plot Consultant @austinbutlerfly

Heavily Based on The Bikeriders Movie 🏍️ Inspo: anonymous requests combined 🏍️ •Benny strong silent type •Benny a wanderer/ nomad -reader stable home •Benny submissive to reader •Benny love obsessed w reader •Benny being nurtured/cared for by reader •Recreate meeting Benny + smut •Benny as a gentle/passionate lover *more requests in upcoming chapters*

Handsome Stranger

It is late night and you are at home, alone in the house willed to you by your parents. There is an eerie silence as you do the dishes only hearing the splash of water and the clunk of the plates submerge in the water and hit the basin.

The house is a large two story brick and mortar in the suburbs of Forest Glen, Chicago surrounded by a lush green lawn that you played on as a child. You grew up your entire life here, each room filled with memories of laughter and warmth.

It was a happy home, filled with the smell of your mother’s cooking at supper and the sounds of your father’s music playing softly in his office in the evening as he worked.

Your parents worked hard to create a nurturing environment, and their love was evident in every room of the house.

The day they’re perished was the day your world stopped. You quit your job at the local bookstore and began relying heavily on your friends for emotional support during your time of grief

The house, once a place of joy, became a silent reminder of your loss.

Your parents, both hardworking upper middle class, were dedicated to ensuring your future was secure. Setting up a trust fund and a life insurance policy.

As their only child, you inherited everything after their passing: the family house filled with memories, the cars they had carefully maintained, and your dad’s rental property in the next town over.

With your father being the former Director of Operationsfor Ford Motors and your mother being an accountant they had always prioritized your well being, wanting to provide you with a solid foundation for a successful and stable life.

No longer having their reliable guidance and without needing to work, you found solace in reading books about franchising and exploring potential business ventures, like owning several local laundromats in town, something your father had always wanted to do.

The idea of managing a business intrigued you, offering a sense of purpose and structure in your otherwise free and unoccupied life.

However, your friends, seeing you single and often too invested in your books, worried about your sanity and social well being. They frequently pulled you out to mingle, encouraging you to enjoy yourself and meet new people.

They wanted you to remember that there was more to life than just moping alone with your inherited wealth, they wanted your to find happiness and fulfillment with a husband.

Though you had dated a few men in town, they couldn’t get over the fact that you wouldn’t submit to traditional gender roles. Having your own finances allowed you to readily dismiss them at the first signs of male authority, decideding quickly you would no longer submit to any man.

The times were changing during the late ‘60s, and women were prevalently rebelling against domestication becoming in charge of their own lives. This cultural shift resonated deeply within you, sparking a fierce independence.

As you place a dish in the drying rack, your phone rings in the kitchen. You pull the receiver and press it to your ear and shoulder as you answer. It’s one of your close friends Donna in distress, you can barely hear her above the loud music playing in the background of her location.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to bother you so late. You know I wouldn’t unless I really needed to, but I’m at a bar and I’m short on cash. It’s about five bus stops from your place. Can you come spot me? Maybe have a beer with me? I can pay you back with my check on the first.”

You smile, your friends constantly ask to borrow money here and there, and you are never one to deny them. You understand how hard it is to work nonstop only to have spare change for fun. You balance the phone on your shoulder, the cord stretching across the kitchen as you place the last dish in the drying rack.

“Of course, don’t worry about it,” you say warmly. “I’ll be there in a bit. Which bar are you at?”

She gives you the name and address and you quickly jot it down on a notepad by the phone. It’s in seedier area of town but your friend has always had a knack for finding the hippest places around, so you think nothing of it deciding to join her.

“You can hold off on the beer. I think I’ll have a pop though,” you correct her. Your friend laughs.

“Not at this bar, dress up. The guys are having a meeting here tonight.” she informs you.

“Sure, alright, I’ll dress up,” you say, not entirely sure what she means by the guys meeting up but assuming it’s the usual locals.

You hang up, a small smile playing on your lips. Helping out your friends always brings you a sense of fulfillment. You pull on a lilac colored sleeveless form hugging top with white jeans and platform sandals. Nothing too fancy, but it would definitely draw the male gaze. You check your reflection, admiring your attractive features as you brush your hair, letting it cascade over your shoulders in soft waves.

You pull out a wand of mascara, carefully applying the dark, thick formula to your lashes, enhancing the depth and allure of your eyes then framing them with eyeliner. Next, you glide a rich shade of red lipstick across your full lips, the color making them look even more inviting. You then take a brush and apply a touch of rouge to your cheeks, blending it in for a natural, rosy glow.

Satisfied with your appearance, you give yourself one last approving look turning to check your form in the mirror. You would never head out this late for your safety, but because the bar is nearby and you are meeting a friend, you grab your purse and head out into the midsummer night of Ohio.

The air is warm and filled with the sounds of crickets. The sky is clear, stars twinkling above as you make your way to the bus stop. The bus is still running, and you hop on, finding a seat near the back. The city lights blur past the window as you ride through the familiar streets, your mind wandering to the night’s possibilities. You exit the bus a few stops later, the bar just a short walk away.

The brick building is lit up, neon signs flickering, casting a colorful glow on the sidewalk. You can hear the faint sound of music and conversation from inside. Tons of motorcycles are lined up out front, their chrome accents glinting under the streetlights. The air is filled with the mingled scents of cigarettes and gasoline. The atmosphere is charged, alive with the energy of the night

You take a deep breath and step through the door, scanning the loud crowded bar for your friend. The atmosphere hits you immediately this is not the usual crowd. The bar is filled with rough looking bikers, their leather jackets adorned with patches and insignias. Their faces are rugged, some sporting thick beards and tattoos snaking up their arms and necks. It feels as if the room falls silent for a moment as you walk in, all eyes turned to you, scrutinizing you with a mix of curiosity and predatory interest.

You feel their stares, some of the men openly leering.

“You need a man?” one of them calls out, his voice ripping with insinuation just above the music.

Another smirks and gives you a once over, “Looking for some fun tonight?”

Your heart begins to race, worry creeping in, it’s as if they can sense your unease, like predators sensing prey. You scan the room desperately, searching for your friend. Finally, you spot her waving at you from a corner table, looking both relieved and slightly apologetic.

You make your way through the crowd, the bikers parting reluctantly. Some of them brush against you, while others continue to watch you, their gazes and unwanted touches making your skin prickle.

You reach your friend Donna’s table and slide into the seat next to her, trying to steady your nerves. She is sitting across from a biker who is nursing a beer, his rugged appearance adding to the intimidating atmosphere.

“Hey,” she says softly, clearly aware of the tension in the bar. “Thanks for coming. I’m really sorry about this. I didn’t realize you were gonna dress up this nice…that’s gonna make things a bit more… interesting for you tonight.” She reveals with a grin.

“It’s okay,” you reply, forcing a smile. “Let’s just get you sorted and I’ll head out of here.”

“You should stay a while. These guys are something else,” Donna says as you hand her the money she needs. “You’re the best,” she adds, smiling as she counts it but you can’t help but feel the weight of the bikers’ stares.

This night has turned into something far different than what you expected, and you can’t shake the feeling of being a rabbit in a den of wolves.

The biker across from Donna leans forward, a smirk playing on his lips. “Name’s Cockroach,” he introduces himself, his voice cheerful and welcoming.

You give him a wary eye, trying to gauge his intentions. “Nice to meet you,” you manage, your voice steady despite the unease swirling inside of you.

Cockroach’s eyes flicker with amusement as he looks you over, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Don’t worry, we don’t bite… much,” he says with a chuckle, his gaze never leaving yours.

Two more bikers approach. One is wearing only a vest, his bare chest exposed, while the wears a heavily stained t-shirt. They both look drunk, their eyes bloodshot and their steps unsteady. They reek of stale beer and cigarettes, clinging to each other as they sway slightly, propping each other up.

“Hey, you-as wants-ta go home with me?” The one in the vest slurs to you, his words barely coherent.

“What about me you wanna live with me? The other chimes in with a grin before taking another swig of his beer. He leans in too close, the overpowering stench of alcohol heavy on his breath

You slightly recoil at their statements, trying to keep your composure.

“No thank you, I’ve got a date. I’ve gotta be home by midnight,” you quickly lie, feeling extremely uneasy and not wanting to engage with either of them.

Cockroach lets out a hearty laugh, the sound rough and loud. “You hear that, boys? Cinderella’s got a date and she’s gotta be home by midnight or else she’ll turn into a pumpkin!” The group erupts into laughter, the sound echoing through the bar.

Cockroach gets up and slaps the shoulders of the two bikers and they wrap their arms around each other as they head to the bar. You watch as they stumble away, their laughter still ringing in your ears.

You look around and begin to notice several of the bikers gathering together, casting glances your way and sharing whispers with one another. Already on edge, you lean towards Donna to warn her. “Look at them, it’s like they’re planning something over there.” You say trying to keep your voice steady but your panic is evident.

She shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about them,” she says trying to reassure you.

“I gotta go,” you say abruptly, the unease becoming too much.

Donna laughs. “Just sit tight. I’ll go get you a drink,” she says and stands up.

You watch her walk away, completely at ease among the bikers, she moves with a casual confidence, even giving a friendly pat on the back to one of the bikers as she passes by. It’s clear she feels comfortable in this environment, blending seamlessly with the rough crowd.

Feeling even more exposed now that you’re alone, the atmosphere feels thicker, the air heavy with the scent of beer, smoke, and something else you can’t quite place.

You glance around nervously, noticing the bikers’ eyes still lingering on you, their whispers becoming more apparent.

You can see them watching you now, their gazes more intense and predatory, their eyes following your every move, making your skin prickle with unease.

You quickly stand, clutching your purse, scanning the bar for your friend to head out to leave, and that’s when you see him the most physically stunning man you ever laid eyes on.

He is at the pool table, standing stoically with his hands resting on the edge. His broad shoulders and muscular frame are hard to miss, accentuated by a sleeveless black shirt. His presence commands the room, and despite the rough crowd around him, he stands out with an air of calm authority.

For a moment, everything else fades away. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding your senses. You watch him, mesmerized by his effortless confidence and the magnetism.

He gazes down, seemingly lost in thought, and when he looks up, you get a full view of his handsome face in every detail. His piercing blue eyes that look like they could see right through you, a head of thick tousled sandy brown hair, a rugged goatee surrounding his full enticing lips, and a strong, chiseled jaw . You feel a thrill shoot right through you, his looks take your breath away.

His eyes slowly lock onto yours, and it’s as if he can sense every bit of your attraction for him. His gaze intensifies, showing a clear desire for you in return. He straightens up, revealing his towering height and makes his way over to you with determination in his stride.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you feel a rush of excitement and nervousness as you sit back down, almost in a daze, watching the confident way he approaches your table.

He turns the chair across from you around backwards and slowly sits revealing every detail of his chiseled muscular arms as he casually rests them on the edge.

“I’m Benny,” he says, his voice soft and rich like honey.

Your voice comes out weaker than you intend as you respond, “hello…”

He stares at you intensely and though you try to meet his gaze, your eyes keep wandering down to his chiseled muscular arms and back up to the handsome features of his face.

He studies every detail of you in return his blue eyes slowly trailing over your body. His eyes tracing the line of your neck, lingering on the delicate skin there, before moving to your full, red lips. He continues up to your eyes, his stare deep and inviting, never breaking contact in a testament to his desire for you.

The intensity of his gaze makes your skin begin to tingle and your heart race. You’ve never been stared at in such a way. Despite your nervousness, you find that you like his unwavering attention, it makes you feel desired and alive in a way you’ve never felt before.

Summoning all of your courage, you finally regain the ability to speak.

“What are we doing here, just shooting the breeze?” you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. Your voice wavering, betraying the nervous excitement inside of you.

Benny’s smile widens, a beautiful smile that captivates you entirely. “I guess so,” he answers, his eyes never leaving yours.

When Benny doesn’t continue the conversation, a thick silence settles between you two. His eyes gaze into yours with an unspoken longing that makes your heart race and the intensity of the moment becomes overwhelming.

“Benny… I’ve gotta go home,” you relent, watching as his demeanor changes.

“Oh…okay” Benny responds the sadness flickering in his beautiful eyes, his deep voice tinged with disappointment.

His gaze lingers a moment longer before he lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright,” he says, a knowing smile on his lips, his voice still that soft, intoxicating murmur. “You gotta go,” he echos.

When he rises from the chair and walks away, your heart is pounding as your eyes follow his every move. You know you won’t forget your encounter with Benny anytime soon.

Just as Benny leaves, another biker sits down in front of you, taking his place. His presence is commanding and intense, exuding seniority.

His appearance is cleaner than the others; his black hair is slicked back neatly, and his stern face exudes authority. He wears a neat black button up tee with white etching along the seams, giving him a polished yet intimidating look. His sharp eyes, slightly narrowed, survey you with a calculating gaze.

“I��m already spoken for,” you announce,knowing in your heart you are already drawn to Benny.

The biker gives you a knowing look. “Don’t worry,” he says with casual confidence.

“Don’t worry about what?” you shoot back, wanting to deter any of his advances.

“I’m Johnny, the president of this club,” he says beaming with pride before continuing. “The guys, they just want t’have some fun. But I’m not gonna let nothing happen to ya,” he says with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

“What’s was going to happen to me?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

Johnny leans back, his eyes steady on yours. “Nothin’,” he reassures you but his eyes shift.

As he studies your demeanor you realize it must be very late and excuse yourself.

“It was nice to meet you, Johnny, but I’ve really gotta go,” you say politely , and look around the bar for Donna to say your goodbyes. When you are unable to find her a slight panic sets in, and Johnny watches as you hurriedly leave the table the rise in your nerves evident.

Leaving is more difficult than coming in. More bikers have come to the bar, making you have to weave through the crowd. You are groped several times, slapping a hand or two away on your way out as they yell sexually suggestive advances.

“Hey, sweetheart, where you going in such a hurry?” one calls out, his eyes raking over you.

“Don’t be shy, honey, come sit on my lap,” another one jeers, reaching out to grab your wrist.

“Why leave so soon? The night’s just getting started,” a third biker says, his hand grazing your lower back.

“Let me show you a real good time,” one whispers in your ear, making your skin crawl.

You push through the throng of men, your heart pounding and your breath coming in short, panicked bursts. As you finally make it to the door, the catcalls and whistles follow you out into the night.

You don’t stop moving until you are a safe distance across the street at the bus stop. You look down at your white pants, now covered in their dirty black handprints,

“Disgusting!” you scoff, trying in vain to wipe the grit of their handprints off.

The bus is taking longer than usual, and you feel an uneasiness settle in. The street lamps and the distant sounds from the bar offer some comfort, but you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

That’s when you see Benny leaving the bar, his calm commanding presence exuding an aura of confidence. He focuses on lighting his cigarette as he walks, moving with a fluid grace that makes you stall, looking at him in admiration.

His leather biker jacket accentuates his strong shoulders, and his jeans highlight his confident stride. As he lights the cigarette, smoke billows from his mouth. He walks to his bike a short distance in front of you, seemingly unaware of your presence.

He swings his leg over his bike and kick starts it, taking a pull of his cigarette before looking over his shoulder at you, revealing that he knew you were there the entire time. You smile, but it quickly fades as your eyes are drawn the group of loud bikers leaving the bar. They immediately see you standing alone at the bus stop.

That’s when it hits you, and fear rushes in. The bus isn’t coming anymore; it’s too late.

“Oh no,” you mutter, walking quickly down the pavement. But they bound toward you, surrounding you almost instantly, pressing you around you and jeering as you walk.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” one of them sneers, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“Come on, darling, don’t be shy,” another says, his hand reaching out to touch your hair.

You slap his hand away, your heart racing with fear. “Alright alright !” you respond to knock their lewd advances, but your voice wavers, betraying your terror.

The night air feels suffocating with their laughter echoing in your ears.

Just as your situation seems dire, you catch a glimpse of Benny on his bike, watching the scene unfold, the cigarette hanging from his lips.

His eyes lock onto yours, and he gestures for you to come to him. Summoning all your courage, you push through the men, ignoring their jeers and grabs, and rush towards Benny. You climb onto the back of his motorcycle and hug onto him tightly as if your life depends on it.

Benny flicks his cigarette away, the ember glowing briefly before fading into the night. The bikers begin hollering and shouting.

“Looks like Benny’s got himself a prize!” one yells, his voice ripping above the others.

“Yeah Benny! Take her! Take her!” another yells as they begin to holler and cheer. The rest of the bikers and their ladies spill out of the closing bar and into the street, joining in, their voices rising in the night air with whistling and hollering.

Benny’s demeanor remains calm and composed, but you can feel the tension in his muscles as he revs the engine. The powerful roar of the motorcycle drowns out the bikers’ voices, but you can still hear their laughter and shouts in the background. Benny’s hand reaches back to gently squeeze your arm, reassuring you.

“Hold on tight,” he says, his voice steady and firm.

You cling to him even tighter, pressing your face against his back, the leather of his jacket cool against your cheek.

Benny kicks the bike into gear and peels out onto the street, leaving the jeering crowd behind.

You’ve never been on a bike before and find it exhilarating as the wind rushes past you as the motorcycle accelerates, making the street lights blur into streaks of light.

With each passing second, the distance between you and the bar grows, the noise of the bikers fading into the night. Benny maneuvers the bike with skill and precision, navigating the streets effortlessly. You begin to relax slightly, the fear slowly ebbing away, replaced by a sense of safety and gratitude.

After a few minutes, Benny slows down and turns onto a quieter street. He eventually stops the bike in front of another bar, this one open later into the night. The neon sign casts a warm glow on the pavement, inviting you inside. He turns off the engine and looks back at you, his intense eyes filled with concern.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now.

You nod, “Yes, thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”

Benny helps you off the bike and stands by your side, his presence comforting.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks, his voice calm and reassuring.

You nod again, feeling a wave of relief. “Yes, that would be nice.”

He leads you into the bar, the dim lighting and the low hum of conversation providing a stark contrast to the dark, tense night you’ve just escaped.

The air is filled with the scent of beer and the soft strains of blues music playing on the jukebox. You follow Benny to a booth in a quieter corner, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude for your unexpected savior.

As you sit down, Benny signals the bartender for a couple of drinks. He sits across from you, his gaze steady and reassuring. “You’re safe here,” he says, his voice calm. “Just take a moment to breathe.”

You nod, taking a deep breath and trying to steady your nerves. The warmth and relative quiet of the bar help you start to relax, the events of the night slowly fading into the background as you focus on the present, feeling grateful for Benny’s timely intervention.

The bartender brings over two cold beers, placing them on the table. Benny takes a sip, then looks at you with a smoldering gaze.

“Those guys back there, they’re my crew,” he says casually. “and you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve ever laid eyes on.” He admits.

You blush, feeling both flattered and a bit wary. “Well, they have an interesting way of showing it,” you reply, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

Benny chuckles softly. “Yeah, they’re rough around the edges, but they know not to mess with someone I’m looking out for.”

You take a sip of your beer, feeling the cold liquid soothe your nerves. “Thanks for that. I was really scared back there.”

Benny’s expression softens. “You don’t have to thank me.“

You both sit in silence for moment until you come up with a question you’ve been curious about.

“What’s it like being a biker?” You ask.

Benny leans back, considering your question. “It’s freedom,” he says, his voice thoughtful. “No schedules, no bosses. Just the open road and my bike. I go where I want, when I want. There’s nothing like it.”

“Where do you live?” you ask.

Benny smiles, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “Wherever the road takes me,” he replies. “I’ve got places I crash, friends’ houses, motels, sometimes just under the stars. Home is the ride.”

“What about you?” he asks, looking you over with curiosity in his eyes.

“I’m from Forest Glen,” you admit with a bit of hesitation.

“Fancy,” he says, lifting his eyebrows with a grin.

The heat rises to your face as your cheeks blush, feeling self conscious from his correct assumption.

“Well, your life sounds very entertaining, Benny,” you admit, taking in his rugged charm, admiring his sense of freedom and independence.

Benny’s eyes soften as he looks at you. “It can be. But it’s not for everyone. It’s rough and unpredictable. You have to be ready for anything.”

You nod, taking another sip of your beer. The differences between your structured life and his free spirited existence fascinates to you, drawing you even deeper into irresistible allure.

You share two more beers together, talking about your vastly contrasting interests. You, fascinated by his wild, unpredictable life, while he listens intently as you describe the comforts of home, your love for quiet evenings with a good book and the security of a routine. Hours go by, the conversation flowing easily between you two, until you glance at the clock above the bar seeing its 4am.

“Oh wow, Benny, we’ve been out all night. I didn’t even notice the time until now.”

He glances at you with a hint of reluctance, “You gotta go?” he asks not wanting the night to end.

You nod reluctantly. “Yeah, it’s really late Benny.”

“Let’s get you home, then,” he says, standing up and signaling the bartender. He pays for the drinks, and you follow him out of the bar, feeling a mix of contentment and excitement.

Outside, the night air is cool and refreshing, as Benny leads you to his bike. He stands next to it for a moment, adjusting his gloves and giving the machine a once over. With a swift, practiced motion, he swings his leg over the seat and settles in.

He grips the kick starter firmly, and gives it a powerful thrust. The engine roars to life, the sound reverberating through the quiet night. Satisfied, he looks over to you and extends his hand, helping you climb onto the back. “Hold on to me,” he says gently.

This time, as you wrap your arms around him you let your hands wander down, marveling at the strength and solidity of his body as you hold his waist. As the engine roars to life you imagine that he’s yours and that this connection between you is something real and lasting.

You press close against his back, feeling the warmth and firmness of him. The vibrations from the engine travel through you, heightening your senses. Soon you’re off, the streets blurring past as Benny navigates the quiet roads to your home. The city lights twinkle above, as the wind rushes past you, carrying a newfound sense of excitement for Benny.

The ride is exhilarating, the powerful machine beneath you and the feeling of Benny’s solid form in front of you providing comfort. The journey is smooth, and you feel safe, trusting Benny completely as he takes you home.

Eventually, he slows down, pulling up in front of your house. He cuts the engine, and the sudden silence is almost startling. You reluctantly let go, dismounting from the bike.

“Thank you, Benny. For everything,” you say, looking to him.

He smiles, his eyes warm and genuine.

You linger for a moment, neither of you wanting the night to end. Finally, you turn to head inside, but before you go, you look back at him one last time.

“Maybe we can do this again sometime?” you suggest, feeling a bit bold.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his smile widening.

With that, you head inside, a sense of warmth and excitement building within you. Once in doors you watch from the window as Benny starts his bike and rides off into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance. As you lock the front door you realize that tonight was the beginning of something new and unexpected in your life.

Do You Want Me?

Just as you hang your purse on the entry rack you hear the familiar sound of Bennys bike retuning. The loud rumbling suddenly cutting off.

You pull back the curtain of the front door window and notice he’s parked himself across the street. Confused you watch him pull off his riding gloves and dismount from his bike, taking a carton of cigarettes out with his lighter sparking one up, sitting calmly against his bike to smoke it.

You assume he’s waiting for someone and head upstairs. Once in your bedroom you click on the lamp and begin to unwind from the night. You take off your platform sandals one at a time, placing them in the shoe rack, feeling relief as your feet touch the cool floor.

You remove your crop top, letting it fall to the floor, then shimmy out of your white jeans, revealing your panties and bra. With a quick motion, you slip off your bra and step out of your panties, placing all the items in the hamper.

You turn on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up, then step inside. The hot water cascades over your body, washing away the stress and grime of the evening. You let the water soothe your muscles, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths.

After a moment, you step out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a soft towel. You brush your teeth, the minty freshness a stark contrast to the taste of beer lingering from the bar.

Feeling refreshed, you slip into a comfortable nightgown and lie down in your soft bed. You can’t help but replay the night’s events in your mind, especially the moments with Benny. His charm and protective nature leaving a lasting impression on you.

Suddenly you sit up, curiosity getting the better of you and walk over to your bedroom window pulling the curtain aside, half-expecting to see an empty street. To your surprise, Benny is still there, leaning casually against his bike, his gaze fixed on your house.

“He’s still here?” you whisper to yourself, a mix of surprise and confusion flooding your thoughts. “What is he waiting for?”

You watch him for a moment, feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement. His presence outside your home feels both unexpected and oddly reassuring. You look at the clock on your dresser seeing it’s 5: 50 am and wonder why he hasn’t left yet and what he could be thinking.

Unable to resist, you throw on a robe and quietly make your way downstairs. The cool night air greets you as you open the front door and step outside. Benny looks up, his eyes locking onto yours, and a small, knowing smile spreads across his lips.

“Benny, what are you still doing here, are you guarding my house all night?” You tease and he chuckles before pulling a drag from his cigarette.

“I guess so,” he says, smiling as he exhales. His smile is so beautiful that it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Do… you have some place your supposed to be?” you ask, curiosity mingling with the undeniable attraction you feel toward him.

“Not till later,” he responds casually, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes you smile.

The first light of dawn begins to creep over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the street.

“The sun’s coming up, Benny,” you observe and he glances over, squinting as he takes in the view of the rising sun.

“How about I make you breakfast?” you suggest with a grin.

Benny looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours as his smile widens. “I’d like that,” he says.

He stands and flicks his cigarette as he approaches your house, and you watch his confident stride as he stretches his arms relieving his sore muscles from sitting on his bike for so long.

He stops just in front of you, his presence commanding yet comforting. He looks you in the eyes, a hint of something playful in his gaze.

“You want to go to a meeting with me today?” he asks.

Surprised, you blink. “A meeting? What kind of meeting?”

“It’s just something with my club,” he says, his tone casual but inviting. “Thought you might like to see what it’s all about.”

You feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of experiencing his biker lifestyle firsthand. Your earlier interest in him only intensifies. “I’d like that, Benny,” you say with a grin,

“Good,” he says, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

You invite Benny inside just as the sun starts filling your kitchen with early morning light. Benny looks around your place, impressed, his fingers trailing along the countertop in the kitchen, taking in the affluent atmosphere.

“You’ve got a great setup here,” he remarks, his eyes wandering over the well kept place.

“Thanks,” you say, grinning as you gather the items to make him breakfast. “It’s been a lot of work to keep it this way, but it’s worth it,” you admit.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” he murmurs, his eyes wandering over the curves of your body, knowing you’re too focused on your tasks to notice his provocative gaze.

You smile from his remark as you start your routine, putting on a kettle of water for tea and beginning to make scrambled eggs.

You crack two more for Benny and retrieve the bacon from the fridge setting it in the second skillet, the sizzle filling the kitchen with a the delicious aroma. Grabbing a loaf of bread, you pop a few slices into the toaster to make him a full meal.

As you move around the kitchen, Benny rests back against a counter, admiring you work. His presence is both comforting and intriguing. You can feel his eyes following your every movement, adding a layer of warmth to the room.

The eggs fluff up nicely in the pan, as the smell of bacon wafts through the air

You look back at him and see he has a grin on his face clearly enjoying being made a hot meal.

“Go in the dining room Benny and I’ll bring your plate when it’s ready,” you say sweetly and he shyly smiles happy to do as he’s told.

The kettle whistles, and you pour the hot water into a set of cups, letting the tea bags steep. The toast pops up, and you butter the slices, placing them on a plate alongside the bacon and eggs. You bring everything to the table, and set his plate down in in front of him arranging everything with care.

He looks up at you with admiration in his eyes, and you respond with a warm smile. His gaze then shifts to the food you’ve prepared, his expression softens with deep gratitude as he takes in the sight of the meal you made for him.

You step away momentarily to bring the tea cups, carefully placing one beside him and then setting yours down next to your plate.

He waits for you to sit across from him and, only after you take your first bite of food, does he begin eating. His fork scrapes the plate several times as he hungrily eats.

“This is one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time,” he compliments, and you smile, watching him continue to enjoy each bite.

You begin to study him closely noticing he must be starving and tired. His scent is heavily tinged with cigarettes, his hands are calloused, his fingernails are covered in grit and his sandy brown hair is heavy with oil.

Noticing his rugged appearance, you suddenly realize that Benny doesn’t have a place to call home, a place to be cared for and comforted and your heartstrings tug for him.

“Benny “ you ask softly watching him eat his last bites of foods. “Would you like to shower here? Maybe have a rest on the sofa before we go to this meeting of yours ?” you offer gently.

Benny looks up from his empty plate, a mix of gratitude and surprise in his eyes. “That would be great actually,” he admits, his voice softening.

You smile warmly, feeling a sense of satisfaction being able to care for him.

You clear the table and he takes his jacket off draping it over his chair, revealing the definition of his strong, muscular arms in his sleeveless shirt.

Seeing him getting comfortable sets you at ease, and you smile as you make your way over to him. “Will you follow me upstairs so I can show you to the shower, Benny?” you ask, and he slowly grins, his face lighting up in the way that sends a warmth through you.

“Yea I’ll follow you” he says his voice carrying a mix of gratitude and anticipation.

He follows you up the stairs, his heavy footsteps behind yours, and you lead him down the hallway, your own footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house.

Stopping at the linen closet, you pull out a fresh set of towels and hand them to him. He takes a moment, bringing the soft fabric to his face and inhaling the scent, appreciating the clean, comforting smell of fresh laundry.

You pull a toothbrush and a bar of soap from the closet, placing them on top of the towels as he lowers them slightly.

“The bathroom is just on the left,” you say, pointing the way. “I’ll be in my room tidying up and getting ready. If you need anything, just knock.”

“Thank you,” he says, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. “I really appreciate this.”

You smile, touched by his appreciation. “It’s no problem at all, you’re my guest.”

He glances down, then back up at you, his eyes softening. “You really didn’t have to any of this.”

“I wanted to Benny” you reply softly.

You give him a reassuring smile, and he returns it with a grateful look before heading to the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

You head to your bedroom and close the door. Hearing the shower start you feel a sense of contentment wash over you, knowing you’re able to care for him.

You tidy up your room and begin to get dressed, choosing a loose fitting shirt and denim jeans, assuming you’re going to be with the same rowdy group of bikers he was with yesterday. Before you put your socks and shoes on there is a knock at your door.

You open it to find Benny standing in the hallway, half naked, wearing only the towel. His well defined physique catches you off guard, and your breath hitches at the sight of his muscular body.

His defined abs glisten, and his broad chest rises and falls with each breath, his hand gripping the towel beneath the deep v-line of his waist. He looks refreshed and more relaxed. His hair, now clean and slightly damp, falls in soft waves around his face that radiates with a newfound vitality. You momentarily lose your voice, captivated by how attractive he looks.

“What would you like me to do with my clothing?” he asks gently, helping you refocus.

“Y-you can bring them to me, Benny,” you say,still in shock at the perfection of his body. He collects his clothing and brings the pile to you. Quickly grabbing a hamper, you place his clothing inside.

“Let’s go down and get these washed for you,” you announce, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Thank you,” he says smiling again, and as you walk downstairs, he follows you. Still in the towel, holding it at his waist. As you reach the base of the stairs, you can’t help but look back and notice how the towel clings to his muscular form, each step emphasizing every contour of his physique.

You sigh dreamily and gesture him toward the living room. “Why don’t you relax on the sofa while I head to the laundry room,” you offer.

Benny nods, and you watch as he enters the living room looking the place over. He sits down on the sofa, adjusting his towel before resting back, his muscular arms outstretched against the plush cushions, enjoying the comfort.

“Do you need anything?” you ask kindly, wanting to ensure he’s comfortable.

“No, this is perfect,” he says, giving you a grateful smile.

You nod and head to the laundry room, feeling a sense of satisfaction being able to help him. As you start the washer, you can’t help but think about how different your lives are and yet how connected you feel to him in this moment.

As you pour the detegent in, the morning sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room and it dawns on you, you’re falling deeply for Benny.

When you head back to the living room, you find him studying a framed picture of your family on the mantle. “These your folks?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer slowly.

“Where do they live?” he asks.

“They passed away Benny,” you say, your voice somber. His face falls in shock, realizing his mistake.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stammers.

“It’s alright. It’s been some time, but I do miss them terribly,” you admit, your voice softer.

His eyes gloss over with sadness for you. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories,” he says gently.

“Benny it’s fine, I’ll be alright .” you say with a reassuring smile.

He looks around at the living room, taking in his surroundings.

“You live by yourself in this big house?” he asks, his eyes scanning the place, noting the quietness.

You nod. “Yes, it’s just me now. It’s a lot of space for one person, but it’s home,” you say, offering a small smile.

He takes a deep breath, his gaze returning to yours, filled with a mix of admiration and concern. “It must get lonely sometimes,” he says softly.

“It does,” you admit, and then you fall silent, lost in thought realizing that you’ve willingly let Benny—a man you just met tonight— into your home and now he’s standing in your living room, nearly naked, wrapped in a towel.

The reality of the situation hits you hard and you are surprised by your own actions, you would never willingly allow a handsome stranger into your home, let alone someone you barely know, but with Benny somehow its different.

His presence reassures you. The way he looks at you with genuine care and concern, the kindness in his eyes, his gentle yet commanding demeanor, all make you feel safe with him in a way you have never felt before.

He captivates you with his powerful presence, a mix of beauty and raw strength exuding a sense of protection and confidence that is impossible to ignore. As you watch him, standing nearly naked in your living room, you can’t help but feel a surge of admiration and desire.

You look at his perfect body again, your gaze lingering on his broad, chiseled chest, his heavily defined muscular arms, and finally settling on his ridged abs, each one perfectly sculpted, narrowing down to his sculpted waist. His entire body exudes strength. The sight of him standing in your living room takes your breath away.

The truth of your motives comes to the surface as your eyes linger on him longer than you intended and you feel a surge warmth spread through you, a magnetic pull that makes it hard to look away anymore . Feeling a mixture of desire and curiosity that you’ve never felt before you begin to realize you invited him in to do more than just to care for him.

Benny catches your lingering stare, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. A small smile plays at the corners of his lips, and you can see the spark of desire in his eyes as he takes a step closing the distance between you.

“What do we do while we wait for the laundry?” he asks, his voice low and sultry. Your heart flutters, finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the desire building between the two of you.

“I-I hadn’t thought about that,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

As he steps closer you instinctively move back, bumping into the bookshelf behind you. The sudden movement causes a book to tumble off the shelf and hit the floor with a soft thud.

He kneels down to pick it up, and you catch a glimpse of his cock, sending a thrill straight through you. It is long and thick, the biggest you’ve ever seen, stretching impressively down his thigh. Utterly impressed you quickly cover your mouth.

He doesn’t take notice and reads the title of the book he’s picked up.

“Business Franchising,” he says, grinning as he stands. “Is this yours ?” He asks and you slowly nod, slightly trembling unable to form words from what you just witnessed.

“You’re smart .” He confirms looking into your eyes with a satisfied grin.

His muscular arm extends to push the fallen book back into the slot next to your head and his closeness is intoxicating. He sees your hesitation, your head lowered as you avoid looking at him in such close proximity.

He doesn’t back down, instead, he gently tilts your chin up with his fingers, guiding your eyes to meet his. His gaze is intense and unwavering, filled with an unspoken understanding and desire. As you stare into his eyes, he searches deeply into yours, making it impossible to look away.

“I never thanked you properly,” he says softly, his eyes darkening with a mix of gratitude and longing.

The heat radiating from his body and the scent of him, fresh from the shower, fills your senses. He’s intoxicating to you, and the longer you stare into his beautiful, mesmerizing blue eyes, the more your heart races in anticipation.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, his voice deep and filled with emotion. The intensity of his gaze is magnetic, drawing you in completely and his breath mingles with yours, warm and inviting as his lips move closer.

The world around you falls away as his full lips slowly brush against yours and you feel the spark ignite between you, a deep and passionate connection that sends waves of heat through your body. He kisses you slowly and deliberately savoring every moment of his lips on yours with an unspoken desire.

His hand gently cups your jaw and his fingers trace the contours of your face as you feel the warmth of his palm against your skin.

His other large hand grasps your waist pulling you flush against him making you feel as if your heart will explode from the overwhelming mix of emotions.

Bennys lips move against yours slowly devouring you as you lose yourself in the sensation, feeling an incredible sense of connection to him. His kiss is filled with a longing and desire that promises so much more.

Feeling a firmness press against your thigh, you break the kiss, peering down to see his substantial erection hard against you. Looking back into his eyes you see his intent.

“Benny,” you shakily whisper, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. “We should take it slow,” you manage to say, but as the words leave your mouth, he stares at your lips with a fierce longing before looking back into your eyes. His breaths are heavy and uneven, his desire for you is intense, as if he’s fighting to hold himself back but wanting to give you more.

You slowly place your hand on his chest, trying to calm him, but his eyes search yours, filled with lust his need is evident and the intensity of the moment is fierce as you fight your reservations.

Quickly, you turn from his grasp and walk to the kitchen, creating a distance between you to force the thought of stripping the towel off of him from your mind. You want to date Benny properly, not get swept away in a moment of passion.

“I want you,” Benny admits following you closely.

“You make me feel differently than anyone ever has,” he reveals, not even giving you a moment to cool down.

“When I’m with you, it’s like everything else fades away and I’ve never felt this way before.” He confesses.

Your mind is overwhelmed with desire for him as you listen to his words, your eyes looking around the kitchen, frantically searching for anything you can do to preoccupy yourself.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says closer, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ve never wanted anyone so much.”

You reach the sink and grip the edge, feeling Benny’s presence behind you, and he presses himself against you, his strong arms encircling you, trapping you between him and the counter. The firmness of his hard body pushing against yours makes a gasp of pleasure escape your lips, and he gently turns you around to face him, his eyes searching yours.

His eyes fall to your lips, then lift back to meet your gaze. “I need you,” he confesses, his voice soft and genuine, filled with a depth of longing and desire that takes your breath away.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you process his words. The desperation in his eyes, the way he stands so close, everything about him in this moment is charged with a raw sexual energy and without a second thought, you reach up and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a rush of heat and need.

His body responds immediately, his large hands gripping around your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. His lips meld with yours full of passion as all the pent up tension between you two finally falls away.

“I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a mix of gratitude and desire. “Since I first… laid eyes on you.” He admits between kisses.

You nod, breathless, your hands exploring his muscular chest.

“..Yes….Benny ” you pant, feeling his strong arms envelop you knowing that this moment, this connection, is something you both desperately need.

He kisses you deeply, tilting his head and roughly capturing your mouth, his strong hands wandering down your back making you feel cherished in his arms.

Each caress and press of his lips deepens your connection flooding you with emotions you’ve never felt before.

His towel falls away, and you feel his hard length press against you making you softly moan.

He pulls his lips from yours and kisses down your neck, holding you firmly yet tenderly as you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your throat.

“How do you want me?” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick with desire as he continues his trail of soft kisses. Your heart pounds with longing and nervous anticipation.

“..Benny,” you say, breathing heavily, feeling the hardness of his full erection pressing against you.

“W-we should wait,” you gasp.

He leans back to look at you, his eyes filled with a serious depth of devotion. “I want you,” he says with unwavering conviction, “and I want to be yours.”

The sincerity in his eyes melts away your reservations. “I want you too, Benny,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

His hands travel up tenderly pushing under your top and pulling it over your head before he discards it to the floor.

“You’re beautiful,” he smiles, his eyes lingering on the sight of you undressed for the first time. His large hands cup your full breasts with reverence, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“I can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

His lips brush over your sensitive skin, kissing your soft nipples making you ache with desire. His tongue slips out, gently flicking and swirling around the buds until they are hard and sensitive.

Then, his mouth descends, lavishing attention on them and you gasp as he alternates between each breast, sucking and kissing gently, his hand continuing to caress and knead the other. His rough touch contrasting perfectly with the softness of his mouth.

When he pulls back, his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. His hands holding your waist as he slowly lowers down on his knees in front of you, making your breath hitch.

His hands slide up your thighs unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them all the way down, the cool air contrasting sharply with the heat of your skin

His lips trail soft tantalizing kisses up your thigh.

“I want to taste you,” he murmurs against your skin stopping shy of your panties. He slowly pushes his hand between your legs feeling you already soaked through for him and hums in satisfaction.

“Benny.. I haven’t done anything like this before …” you pant growing more overwhelmed by the second knowing he’s going to perform oral on you.

“I’ll go slow“ he promises and delicately slides your panties off, trailing kisses down your navel to your wet heat.

“I want to please every part of you,” he vows, his voice deep and filled with satisfaction as his hands grip your hips, holding you steady. “I want to make you feel things you’ve never felt before,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin as his mouth descends.

The first touch of his wet tongue against your clit sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you gasp.

“Oh god, Benny!” you cry out, the softness of his mouth latching sending jolts of pleasure directly to your core. His warm slick tongue begins to lick expertly, exploring every inch of your folds as his facial hair grazes against your thighs making you clench. You look down at him, your breaths hitching as you watch him devour you with an intensity that leaves you trembling.

“F-feels so good Benny” you whisper, your voice shaking with pleasure.

His tongue explores deeper into your folds, and you moan desperately, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The new experience is overwhelming, the sensation heightening to a level you’ve never known.

His tongue flicks circles of precision on every stroke sending waves of pleasure through your body unraveling you under his skilled touch.

He laps at your clit, alternating between gentle licks and firm flicks, driving you insane with lust. His eyes, dark with hunger, suddenly lock onto yours, and the sight of him dedicated to giving you such pleasure makes you tremble, becoming completely undone.

His hands grip your hips tighter, anchoring you in place as his tongue delves deeper, tasting you, exploring your inner walls. You can feel the vibrations of his satisfied hums against your most intimate parts as his facial hair brushes roughly against you. The intensity of the moment takes your breath away, and you begin moaning uncontrollably, surrendering completely to the ecstasy he’s giving you.

He brings his hand from your hip, slipping one long, thick finger inside of you. Feeling the roughness of his fingertip against your soft sensitive inner walls makes you clench as an intense moan to escape your lips.

Chills cover the expanse of your body as his tongue and lips, swirl and flick against your clit with precise timing as his finger slips in and out of your sensitive inner walls.

“Benny…please…Benny“ you moan incoherently losing control of your mind, the arousal completely taking over as you lose yourself to him.

He adds a second finger inside of you and the stretch is deliciously overwhelming, your walls contract around his fingers as they move in and out with a steady rhythm. He curls his fingers inside you, hitting a perfect spot that makes you gasp and arch your back.

“Benny oh god! ” you cry out your hands trembling as you grip his hair painfully. He moans loudly against your folds and you savor the vibration of his voice sending a jolt straight through your core.

You begin to high-pitch moan, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as your orgasm builds.

His tongue licks broad strokes and quick flicks against your clit while he fingers you making you see stars.

“Benny your… gonna…make me come like this” you relent your thighs trembling as you try to endure every powerful sensation.

Your walls rhythmically contract around his thrusting fingers and the pleasure becomes too much to bear. You let out a desperate cry, your hips bucking softly against his mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. You moan, your voice trembling in ecstasy,

“Benny you made me come!” you cry out as waves of pleasure ripple through your body, leaving you light-headed and breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

He continues to gently lick your clit, deliberately slowing the movements of his fingers inside of you, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure until finally, you collapse back, catching your breath as your body tingles with the aftershocks of your intense release.

You pant, staring down at him in awe as he slides his fingers from you and into his mouth, tasting your wetness. He smiles and the sight of him savoring you sends a shiver through your body.

“Benny you’re incredible,” you say in astonishment.

He rises and stands to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” he confesses his voice thick with emotion as his hand trails along your waist. “I will do everything to satisfy you” he murmurs, his gaze locked onto yours with an intense longing to please.

You feel warmth spread across your body at his words. “Take me the bedroom,” you say breathless, eager to see more of what he can do. You want him to take all the time in the world on you, feeling every part of you. His intense gaze remains locked on yours as he smiles at your request taking your hand and guiding you to the staircase.

As you walk up the stairs, you continue to steal glances at him. His strong, chiseled physique is mesmerizing, every muscle perfectly sculpted and radiating raw strength. The sight of his impressive erect cock heightens your anticipation even more.

His hand remains intertwined with yours, the roughness of his calloused fingers a stark contrast to the tender way he holds you.

Entering your bedroom, the morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. Benny closes the door behind you, and you can feel the charged atmosphere enveloping you both. He turns to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that makes your heart race.

He leans in, capturing your lips with his, as his hands begin to explore your body. You feel his warmth, the firmness of his muscles pressing against you, as he gently guides you toward the bed. He lays you down carefully, his touch both tender and possessive.

Benny’s lips trail down your neck, planting soft kisses along your collarbone and further down to your chest. His hands caress your sides, memorizing every curve your body. The feeling of his touch, combined with the lingering sensations from your previous climax, sends shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

He takes his time, his lips and hands worshiping your body as if it were sacred. You feel his breath against your skin, the warmth of his kisses, and the gentle firm pressure of his hands. Your mind is clouded with desire, every touch and caress heightening your need for him.

Benny grabs your hips, pulling you to him with a roughness that sends a thrill through you.

As he finally positions himself over you, his eyes meet yours, and you see a mixture of lust and something deeper, a connection that transcends words.

He looks over your body, his gaze lingering on your curves, taking in every detail with a mix of admiration and desire until there is a moment of pause, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“My condoms are in my bike,” he realizes, his voice thick with need and before he can move to retrieve them you gently touch his wrist.

“I’m on Enovid,” you smile softly.

He blinks, confusion flickering across his face. “What’s envoid?”

“It’s a pill, I can’t get pregnant,” you explain

“Not ever?” he says and you smile gently as you see the initial panic in his eyes. You reach up, touching his face tenderly.

“If I stop taking it, I can easily become pregnant Benny.”

His eyes widen in realization. “I can… come in you?”

“Yes, Benny,” you affirm, your voice low and sultry, your eyes showing a dark seduction that makes his breath catch.

He stares at you in astonishment.

“This will be my first time… without a condom,” he confesses, a slight vulnerability in his eyes that makes your heart swell.

You smile reassuringly, caressing his cheek. “It’s okay, Benny. I trust you.”

His expression softens, and he leans down to kiss you deeply, his lips pressing against yours with a newfound intensity.

He positions himself at your entrance and the anticipation is almost unbearable. You can feel the heat of his body, the weight of him above you, and the hardness of his cock poised to enter you.

Slowly, he pushes in and you moan feeling every inch of him, the feel of his cock is intense as he deeply stretches you full of him.

He feels your tight walls taking him in, the sensation is a blend of pleasure and intimacy, he’s never experienced before making his breath hitch.

“You feel…. -So …good,” he groans, his voice filled with pleasure and awe as his eyes close immediately. His brows furrow in concentration as he savors the feeling of your slick, tight walls surrounding him. Every inch of him feels alive, every nerve ending tingling with the raw, powerful sensation of being inside you.

The warmth of his body against yours, the rhythm of his breathing, and the way he opens his eyes looking Into yours all combine to create a profoundly intimate moment.

He begins moving with slow measured thrusts, savoring the feeling of being inside you without any barriers

“Benny you’re …so deep” you gasp your voice trembling with pleasure feeling every inch of his hard cock thrust into you completely.

Benny’s eyes lock onto yours, his expression filled with raw desire and tenderness.

“I want you to feel all of me,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion.

You moan from his words, the connection between you deepening with each thrust as he picks up the pace, his cock sliding in powerfully driving into you with a rhythm that leaves you breathless. His eyes never leave yours and you can see the raw emotion in his gaze.

“Am I making you feel good?” he rasps, his voice filled with a mix of desire and tenderness.

“Yes Benny, yes,” you moan, your voice trembling with pleasure.

His eyes darken with passion as he breathes, his movements becoming more intense.

“I’ve never felt anything like this,” he confesses. “I can’t get enough” he rasps. The warmth of your slick, walls grip his cock tightly, the skin to skin sensation, sending intense waves of pleasure through his entire being.

“Am I yours?” he questions, thrusting harder,“Do you want me?” he asks, his eyes desperately searching yours as you get lost in the overwhelming sensation of his large cock driving deep into your tight walls.

“Yes, Benny yes!,” you cry out, your body arching against his. “I’m yours, I want you!” you moan, clenching around him, the pleasure intensifying with every thrust of his large cock.

“I’m yours then,” he pants as he continues to thrust into you, his pace quickening the sensation of his size is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

Without a condom, your wet walls glide against him and he can feel every pulse, every contraction, the raw intimacy of it almost too much to bear.

The connection feels so intense and primal he drives faster, thrusting harder, and pushing deeper, each motion fueled by the exquisite pleasure coursing through him.

His hips begin softly clapping against yours as he grunts thrusting into you at a forceful pace driving you both toward a powerful climax.

“I can’t hold back,” he groans, his voice raw with need. “You feel too good, I’m losing control,” he admits .

“Benny, come in me” you desperately moan, your body arching against his.

He responds with a deep, primal groan, his thrusts becoming urgent and powerful, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge.

“…-I want to feel you come around me first ” he breathes and brings his large hands to your waist pulling you forcefully to meet against his thrusting cock. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back leaving marks as you ride the waves of ecstasy, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“Yes Benny, yes… oh my god, yes!,” you cry out, your voice filled with raw pleasure as he roughly thrusts into you satisfying the tightness of your core. You begin gasping, your walls contracting around him as you orgasm.

His eyes squeeze shut from the sensation of your fluttering walls and he surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure.

His cock pulses hard inside of you, his hips stuttering as he loses control. Finally both reaching the peak your loud cries mingle together as you come simultaneously, the climax sweeping through you like a tidal wave.

He releases his cum deep inside of you, his desperate cries rattling your brain as you rhythmically contract around him, absorbing each other’s pleasure. The orgasm is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, a wave of pure ecstasy that leaves you breathless.

He slowly collapses onto you, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding against your chest. He holds you tightly in his arms, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion, knowing that this moment has forged an unbreakable bond between you.

As the waves of pleasure subside, his hand gently caresses your shoulder as you both catch your breath. His face resting in the nook of your neck as his body grows heavy.

“I don’t want this to end,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and reluctance. “I’ve never felt anything like this and I want to stay like this forever.”

You stroke his hair gently smiling, feeling the warmth of his breath against your neck. “I don’t want it to end either, Benny,” you whisper back, your voice tender and filled with emotion.

He smiles at your words and reluctantly sits up sliding his large cock back until the heavy tip slips out of your entrance leaving you momentarily empty. He rests his head against your chest, his breathing gradually slowing as he tries to hold onto the connection you’ve just shared.

You continue to stroke his hair affectionately, your fingers weaving through the soft strands, watching his eyes grow heavy as he tries to fight the comforts of sleep.

“It’s alright, Benny,” you soothe him softly. “Just rest now.”

His eyes slowly flutter closed, and you feel his body relax completely against yours as he drifts into a deep sleep. You watch him for a moment, as you hold him in your arms. His face soft and serene, the warmth of his body, the rise and fall of his chest, and the scent of his him all combine to create a profound sense of connection with him.

Continuing to stroke his hair you feel a deep attachment to Benny, realizing he has become so much than you ever expected. The rhythm of his steady breathing lulls you, and your eyes grow heavy, surrendering to the pull of rest. The last thing you feel is the comforting presence of Benny in your arms, as you drift into a deep and satisfying sleep.

🏍️ To be Continued 🏍️

➡️ Benny Cross Chapter 2: The Vandals

Benny brings you to a Vandals biker meeting and introduces you to his club members and their old ladies. Everyone is surprised by your contrasting natures and pokes fun at Benny for dating a ‘fancy girl’.

They privately cast bets on how quickly you’ll use him for a thrill and ditch him once the fun’s over. Little do they know you both are in it for keeps.

You find out more about his rough biker lifestyle and his club leader, Johnny, who has Benny at his beck and call.

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️ @finley-08 @ashleybutler-26 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman 🏷️ Always Tags Me List 💌 @burnthheparaphilia @purejasmine @lindszeppelin @abswifey @faegoddessog @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @magicovento @thegabbyh @fallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @rougegenshin @avidreader73 @jkdaddy01 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @pearlparty @depressedfairie

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alice-angel12x · 2 months ago

Text

The Blue Knight pt.3

The complicated heart arch.

<- Part 2/ Part 4 -> this way

It was a challenge as we continued our journey through beast yeast. Each step of the way, we would find another shard of the light of freedom. Each time I would see this Silent salt figure and the green hooded figure, Bliss Butter.

But we continued to press on, till we came across a real Fairy Cookie! According to Pure Vanilla, White Lily Cookie had met this fairy. They saw it in the vision from the light of freedom.

I wish I weren't so out of the loop and receiving completely different visions. Nonetheless, the fairy Silver Bell Cookie led us to the Fairy kingdom to see White Lily Cookie.

-------------------------------------

Y/n and the others stood in awe at the beautiful kingdom made of plants and silver. The fairies sing a song to white lily cookie in the hope of her return. She is a hero, a savior of sorts to these cookies.

Y/n's heart tightens slightly, not helping with their slight sting of inferiority. Eventually, Silver Bell led them to a glass case, inside was the hero herself.

'Wow, she is really pretty,' Y/n thought to themselves. ' No wonder Pure Vanilla's heart still flutters for her.'

Y/n watched as Pure vanilla stood over her case, eyes full of longing. But just as Pure Vanilla explained the light of freedom, a new fairy arrived.

"Silver Bell! I hear you let outsiders into our kingdom," The gray and silver fair said.

"Ah! Mercy Knight Cookie! These cookies are friends of White Lily Cookie," Silver Bell explained.

"Well, his majesty has ordered that these outsiders be brought before him.

"The king wishes to see us?" Gingerbrave asked in awe.

"Elder fairy... He should have many answers about white lily Cookie's past, and this great calamity," Pure Vanilla thought aloud.

"Then let's not keep his majesty waiting," Y/n nods.

--------------------------------------------

The group stood before the king, a moderately tall Cookie with a slim build, somewhat elderly periwinkle eyes and pointed eyebrows, and dark magenta dough. His pale lavender blue hair is styled into triangle bangs.

"So it is you. Those who claim to be white Lily cookies' ally," He says slowly. "Well, all but one of you."

He looks at Y/n Knight Cookie.

"I never met her, so I can't say I am. But Pure vanilla sees her as an ally, so I will too," Y/n Spoke, giving a nod to Pure vanilla who smiles back.

"I see cookies who bear the fate of the Dessert world on their shoulders before me," Elder Faeie Cookie says.

"A cookie who controls his own fate with his bravery," The king looks to Gingerbrave.

He shifts his gaze to Strawberry and Wizard Cookie. " A warm-hearted cookie who always puts her friends first. And a Cookie of short stature."

Wizard Cookie was a bit annoyed that his height was mentioned.

"And an ancient hero, a cookie of light who protects the balance of this world," He says as he walks past Y/n to Pure Vanilla.

"Your majesty, allow me to introduce us. This is Y/n Knight, Gingerbrave, strawberry Cookie, and wizard Cookie. And I am Pure Vanilla Cookie. We come from the land of Crispa. We have come to-"

"Find Dark Entrantress Cookie," the Elder faerie said.

"How did he know?!" Gingerbraves asked in awe.

"Since ancient times. I have protected this silver tree at the order of the witches." The King started to explain.

As he spoke Y/n's eyes wandered to the tree. A large tree with branches that twisted into the shape of the soul games. A large vine wraps around the trunk, keeping whatever is inside locked away.

As the fairies sang around the tree, visions flashed across Y/n's eyes. The tree on fire, the tree destroyed, the tree restored, a figure standing before the tree. They wore a green hood and a star-shaped candy jewel.

"The power of Virtue, purified by the witches themselves... The Soul Jam that you harness," Elder Faire's voice rings in Y/n's ear. "You are not the first to wield that power."

The faerie King began to tell the story of the legendary virtues, how they were to bring cookies into their golden age. But over time, they fell into darkness. As Y/n listened to the story, they couldn't help but feel like something was being left out.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty. I have a question," Y/n raised their hand.

"Yes?" The king asked patiently.

"Was there a beast who went by Bliss Butter Cookie? I think she had a star-shaped Candy Jewelry," Y/n asked slowly.

Everyone was silent. Pure vanilla and Co. were simply confused by the question. The fairies looked at her with bewilderment, but Elder Fairy tensed slightly. He walks closer to Y/n Cookie to whisper something.

"Hold onto that question," He says quietly.

He turns quickly and explains how to awaken White Lily Cookie. Just as Pure Vanilla Cokkie and the rest were about to leave, he noticed Y/n staying behind.

"Ah, Lov-.. Y/n, aren't you coming?" Pure Vanilla asked, concern in his voice,

"I need to speak with them, you go and collect the rest of the light of Freedom," Elder Faerie Cookie explained.

"I'll be fine, you go ahead," Y/n smiles slightly.

"Alright. We'll meet you back here, okay," Pure Vanilla replies.

Y/n nodes and quickly follows the fairy king.

--------------------------

The two walked silently through the kingdom's garden, and the silence was intense.

"So is there more to that story than you let on?" Y/n cookie asked.

"Indeed, for this beast stands apart from her peers. When the great witch created her, bliss butter was meant to be a guiding star. Guiding the cookies and her fellow virtues to the brightest possible future," The king explained.

"But when her peers fell to darkness, despair consumed her."

"So what happened? She doesn't seem to be sealed away with the others," Y/n pointed out.

"That's because Bliss Butter was Clever, and the power her soul jam granted her only more unpredictable," The king said darkly.

"What power?" Y/n asked.

"Bliss Butter's Light of Hope granted her the power to foresee every possibility. Meaning she could guide cookies to either fate or their doom. She saw where the beast's path led, so she pretended to aid the witch. From there, I am unsure why she vanishes. For all we know, this is all according to her plan," the Elder fairy said.

"So why keep this quiet? Why didn't you tell the others?" Y/n asked.

"Because after she vanished, the Blue Lily Dragon became the holder of her Soul jam. And she saw that the next holder would come asking about Bliss Butter," Elder Faeire Cookie pauses and looks to Y/n Sorrowfully. "And when that happens, Blue Lily Dragon would have long since perished. Leaving you with a heavy burden that I wouldn't even wish on my enemies."

__________________________________________________

DUN DUN DAAA!! till next chapter.

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flwrkid14 · 7 months ago

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♡ masterlist ♡

all of my prompts can be found here!!

updated on 3/4/25

tim drake :

tim leaves the bats , silent rebellion , a haunted hero , athena's soldier , you can't outrun the gods , tim drake turns 18 , tim drake is danny fenton , the camera crisis , the immortal weight , heartthrob conspiracy , heartthrob with loser rizz , always the almost ,

the reluctant savior , buried beneath laughter , accidentally taking over the world , the making of joker junior , nail artist by night , the day gotham let him go , never anyone's favorite , tim works hard to nap harder , tim drake: temporary asset

tim drake and others :

the forgotten robins , the ultimate problem solvers , the underrated duo , tim and damian bond over pancakes , bonding over pancakes pt.2 , dad of chaos and protector of twins , tim drake is a fenton pt.1 , tim drake is a fenton pt.2 , tim drake is a fenton pt.3 ,

tim and danny as frozen , tim's most unhinged power move , unwilling favorite brothers , between healing and fear , finding their place , damian believes tim , shared custody with a rogue , tim gets adopted by green arrow , everyone wants to be the favorite ,

jason todd: dad mode activated , resident alley cat , christmas list tradition , tim's unreachable heart , taste of home

brain dead :

tim loves like odysseus , eternal bonds , obsession meets devotion , famous danny and his secret boyfriend , gotham's most feared power couple , unspoken bonds , campus couple: football edition , campus couple: cheerleader edition , danny has fangs—tim's obsessed ,

tim drake turns 18, brain dead version , red hood vs. red robin, a boyfriend's dilemma , tim drake responds to thirst tweets , everyone wants to be danny's favorite , falling for the one you can't have , two lost souls , the makeup stream , from vigilante to royalty ,

ra's and his matchmaking skills , letters in green ink , first thanksgiving , tim moves to amity park , love and obsession , the weight of protection , a love that hurts , everyone knows they're dating , take my heart, take my name , the marriage pact ,

doomed together, doomed apart , tim doesn't believe in ghosts , tim drake is a halfa , what could have been , sleep-deprived tim , what they have, what they'll always be , the forms of love , curious case of phantom , learning to be someone's favorite , legends in the realms ,

tim and danny vs. la llorona , the tomorrows that won't come , love, scribbled in the margins , consumed by love, blind to the truth , love like a gothic novel , reincarnation of romance , tim likes painting danny's nails

batfam :

jason's lost voice , damian's favorite movie , duke isn't the normal one , october shenanigans , the bats go to hamilton , damian's LPS collection , halloween special , training the bat-way , conditional love

others :

percy and his technology curse

#all of my prompts can be found here!#tim drake #danny phantom #batfam #brain dead #dead tired #dc x dp #pjo #dc x epic #dc x pjo

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gigidraws13 · 19 days ago

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DC X CRK: LEGENDS

PLATONIC YANDERE BATFAM X NEGLECTED MAGICAL GIRL! PURE VANILLA READER

Back when you were just a little girl, back when you and your mother didn’t have much, back when your mother was still alive, back when you weren’t stuck in a mansion surrounded by people who either despised or completely ignored your existence.

She would always read your favorite bedtime story when tucking you into bed at night. Well, to be truthful, it wasn’t really a bedtime story, it was more like a LEGEND.

The legend of five ancient heroes who ruled over the mythical land of Earthbread, as kings and queens.

THE DRAGON LORD

THE GOLDEN SOVEREIGN

THE QUEEN MOTHER

THE LADY OF LILLIES

and the greatest and your favorite out of the five: THE SAVIOR.

You let out a small heartfelt chuckle as you remembered how you used to dress up as him when you were a small child, pretending to take down the monsters from those stories. With your mother cheering and playing along with you.

Your small chuckle turned into a silent sob.

You missed your mother, very much…

You missed waking up in the morning to see her gentle smile as she cooked you your favorite breakfast.

Your missed when it was just you and her. Living in a small comfy house in Metropolis.

You didn’t like Gotham. Not one bit.

It was a city ridden of crime and super villains.

You hated every time whenever you watched the daily news, there was always a report about a new attack by the Joker or really by any villain.

You wished to do something.

You wanted to do something.

But you knew you couldn’t do anything, you were just a mere girl with no power.

I mean for Christ sake, you were ignored by the people who were supposed to be your family.

What made you think you could have a chance to make a difference in this world?

The manor was always cold and unwelcoming with the only things bringing warmth and love into your new life being the manor’s butler, Alfred, who actually took time to be with you unlike your actual father.

Your pet bluebird, that your mother bought you for your thirteenth birthday.

The blue shimmering gem your mother gave you at her deathbed. Secured in a pendent that was now wrapped around your neck as a necklace.

You didn’t know why, but you felt a strange connection towards it, to the point you never took it off, and you swore you felt it speak to you sometimes…

And finally the book that contained the very stories that you were so enamored with as a child.

You didn’t read the book anymore, as you reached your preteen and teenage years, your belief in the stories and myths started to fade away.

But even so you kept the book, as it still held a special place in your heart.

But in the end, these were just silly myths and fairytales. These people weren’t real, right? Just LEGENDS.

#digital art #y/n #y/n insert #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla crk #crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #neglected reader #dc #crk #batfamily x reader

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sellmysoulforamap · 3 months ago

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You Can Stay

Raven haired, ocean eyed Perseus Jackson. The Hero of Olympus, bearer of the curse of Achilles, savior of Camp Half Blood.

And a royal pain in your ass.

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, you’re good at ignoring people, great at it even. When you don’t want to be found no one can find you, except Percy Jackson apparently.

You had saved his life during the Battle of Mannhatan, and apparently that was enough for him to become enamored. As if he weren’t surrounded by pretty people with swords all the time. You’d think he’d be used to it after years at camp.

You like being alone, you’ve always liked being alone. You’re friends get that, they’ve learned that when you wander off and can’t be found not to go looking for you. You know who hasn’t learned that lesson?

Percy Fucking Jackson.

Heading down to the arena to train?

He’s there.

Going down to the lake after the campfire to cool down?

He’s there.

Walking into the woods to get away from life?

He’s not far behind you.

Which is how you’ve ended up in the top of one of the tallest trees around the lake, your back pressed up against the bark and a book balance precariously on your leg. Camp had grown to be too much for you. Too many people trying to pretend the war didn’t happen, that everything was normal, that more than half of their friends and siblings weren’t dead.

Your cabin didn’t feel far enough away, in truth the tree didn’t feel far enough either.

“Are you… okay?”

You let out a frustrated sound, all you wanted was to be alone for five minutes. “I’m great.” Silently you turn back to the pages of your book, the boy below is quiet as well, for a minute you think he may have finally gotten the hint and left you alone, but its soon after you have the thought that you hear the sounds of branches creaking down below.

Percy stops his accent on the branch below yours, where he stands silently for a few minutes staring up at you as if waiting for you to say something, acknowledge him or whatever. Eventually he speaks quietly. “I’m not okay.”

That makes you pause, your fingers wrapped around the corner of a page you were halfway through turning. Slowly you rest the page down again, and look down at him. It doesn’t feel real, the Percy Jackson, the Hero of Olympus, the savoir of camp, isn’t okay.

Percy Jackson is always okay.

“Why aren’t you okay?” You ask quietly.

You’ve finally given in to his game, his little chase, you expect him to look smug, or happy, or anything expect for the lost expression that forms on his face. “I failed them.”

“What do you mean?”

Percy looks up at you again, his head resting against the tree, bark tugging at the dark waves. “Everyone keeps telling me I won, that I saved everyone, but I didn’t. We lost so many people, I lost so many people.”

“It was war, we were always going to lose people.” You answer softly, you’d been running from everyone at camp for months, Percy included, because it felt like nobody else felt the loss the war had saddled them with.

Maybe you were wrong.

Percy seems to have realized that he had dropped that on you unbidden and looks down at the branches below him, as if considering how to climb back down. “‘M sorry, you probably wanted to be alone.” He murmurs, still looking at his feet.

“You can stay.”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy Jacksom x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse x you #riordanverse x reader #riordanverse

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hxney-lemcn · 8 months ago

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The Dragon's Savior — Malleus Draconia x gn! reader

summery: you were tasked with slaying the dragon...so how did you end up living with the fae prince?

tw: death (?), idk (if I miss something tell me)

a/n: I'm so tired and I wanted this to be done, so sorry if the ending is a bit rushed.

wc: 3.9k

Master List

The dungeon was dimly lit, dank, and eerily silent. You were unsure how the torches were alight as this dungeon had been long abandoned. A plume of green flames in the distance seemed to answer your curiosity. You had been ordered by the high king to slay the beast. You were no knight or hero, but it seems like they were running out of men to send. Honestly, you didn’t want to do this. Everyone who’d entered this place hadn’t been seen again, and you didn’t want to become another victim of the scaly beast, yet it was either death by dragon or locked in prison for life. You’d take your chances with the chained creature.

You weren’t sure how such a creature was chained down. As you continued on, you wondered why they only locked it up instead of killing it. As you continued through the giant halls, you paused at the entrance of a giant room. Large pillars rose on both sides, the room empty except for the metal of armor and bones that littered the floor…well, there are the previous knights and heroes that had their try at the dragon. Unlike them, you stood in just your tunic, a small sword and a satchel of miscellaneous items you brought just in case. As your eyes roamed the cavernous room, they landed on ink black scales, green slitted eyes narrowed on your figure.

As you stood there, staring at the beast as it snarled at you, you felt your heart twist and break. You had never seen anything so beautiful before. A muzzle laid hazardously over its snout. The metal of the muzzle twisted and singed, the leather straps frayed if not completely snapped. You could hardly call it a muzzle as it rested above its snout, not covering its snarling mouth in the slightest. Perhaps whomever put this creature here planned for it to starve? Then your eyes landed on the chains that were clasped around its four limbs, a shiny silvery color, glittering gallantly under the green puffs that threatened past the dragon's lips. You were surprised it hadn’t killed you already, the two of you watching the other cautiously.

Rage had started to consume you. It reminded you of a dog that had been abused and was going to be put down. A cornered animal that was merely trying to keep itself alive against whatever threatened it. Such a beautiful creature, whether it was a danger to people or not, had no right to be treated so inhumanely. You’ve only read old tales of dragons, they had nearly been wiped out, and the ones left remaining were in hiding. Apparently they lived for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and you wondered what all the dragons in front of you had witnessed. How long was its life spent in a cage, hunted and threatened? The dragon was clearly here first, humans had no right to put them on a leash.

Slowly, you lowered your sword to the ground, “Hello.” It’s ear twitched, eyes never leaving your form. It let out a huff and you took that as your cue to continue. Telling the creature your name, you felt a little silly, but it seemed to comprehend what you were saying, “I was sent here to kill you.” Maybe you shouldn’t have started with that as the being snarled, the frills on the side of its head standing. “W-wait, sorry, I just want you to know I’m not going to do that!” Its eyes narrowed, not seeming to trust you. Perhaps someone’s done this before, but tried to kill it when they got close enough.

“I swear!” You exclaimed. “Here, I’ll kick the sword out of the room so I’m harmless.” When you did what you said, the dragon slumped down once more. It felt unnerving, having such a scary beast watch you so intensely, but you decided to continue on, even if you ended up becoming the beast's next snack. “Can I take your muzzle off?” You hoped that would show your intentions were pure, that you’d put your trust in the beast’s claws so it would let you help it. If you were going to jail for life for failing to kill it, you might as well let it free, no? You fidgeted as it watched you for a few seconds, seeming to contemplate your offer. You never realized how smart dragons were, it was almost like it wasn’t just a beast.

You jumped as the dragon set its head on the stoney ground and let out a small huff. Hesitating, you asked if that was it agreeing, in which it nodded. Taking in a deep breath, you felt yourself shake with each step you took. It really set in just how big the creature was when you finally were face to face. With its head fully on the ground, the top of its head (excluding its horns) reached up to your thighs. You stated your next move before you did anything, not wanting to startle it. Gently, you managed to remove the muzzle although it took a bit of work with the frayed edges. Out of nowhere, the dragon hit the piece of metal, quickly tossing the offending mouthpiece out of the room with a growl. The quick movements caused you to jump back, lifting your arms in a weak defense. When its mini tantrum was over, it let out a low grumble at you, its head once again resting on the ground. Blinking owlishly, you realized it was trying to calm you, almost looking sorry for its previous actions.

“I…I can try to get y-your chains off,” You mumbled, trying to calm your shaking limbs. Its head tilted, so you explained, “I-I don’t have a key or anything, but I brought my lockpicking set. I’m pretty good at it, so I can try to remove your chains…”

With its huff of approval, you dug through your satchel, taking out your lockpicking set. Kneeling down in front of one of its powerful front arms, you took in the type of lock and what best to use. Expertly, you stuck in two picks, slowly moving your tools until you heard the soft clicks. After a few minutes of trial and error, you managed to get the lock to open, and you gently tugged the metal off its wrist. To your horror, its scales seemed to have rubbed off, its skin a bright red. You felt yourself fret, now searching for anything you may have brought that can ease pain. What lowly, disgusting people to harm such a creature. Your scowl diminished when the dragon lightly nuzzled you with its nose, its eyes brightening slightly, then it motioned to its other wrist. Against your wishes, you ignored the chafed wrists of the being, focusing on lock picking the three remaining chains instead.

When you finished, you weren’t sure what to expect. You hoped you had proven yourself worthy to the dragon, that you were worth to be left alive. Though, you wouldn’t blame it if it swallowed you whole, as it probably hasn’t had anything to eat in a while. To your shock, the dragon laid flat, fluttering its wings lightly. It stared at you expectantly, its head motioning to its back. Wait…it wanted you to ride it? You saw your life spiraling before your eyes…perhaps it was the moment it was declared you were to kill the beast. Between going to jail for life or…being a dragon's friend (?) you decided the latter wouldn’t be too bad. So you carefully climbed onto its back. You felt like you were on top of the world as it walked through the dungeon. As it climbed up the steps, you realized this dungeon must’ve been made specifically for dragons as everything was to scale for the giant beast.

The bright sun shone on you both, the inky black scales turning an iridescent purple, its green eyes glittering. Your heart swelled at the sight, if you thought it was beautiful before, it is absolutely stunning now. You were quickly snapped out of your reverie when it snapped its wings, lifting off the ground with a gust. Trembling once more, you wrapped yourself around the dragon to your best ability to keep yourself from falling to your doom. You weren't sure how long the flight was as you kept your face in its neck, only glancing out every now and then. Your surroundings grew darker as clouds filled the sky, looking out, you noticed a castle that was surrounded by thorny vines. You blinked as that seemed to be your destination. The castle looked abandoned…and you suppose it was since the dragon was held prisoner. The place looked uninviting. Your dragon friend landed gently on the land in front of the castle, and you slid off slowly. Your legs shook, unused to riding any type of mount, but it didn’t seem to mind you holding onto it for stability. The stone bridge that led to the castle was completely covered in the thorny vines, the stones crumbling slightly. It seems the only way in or out was to fly.

Once you trusted yourself to walk, the dragon led you into the castle. The dark bricks that built the castle made the space feel small even though it was grand, the silence felt unsettling and you felt a shiver run up your spine at the chill that filled the space. Even for how old the place seemed to be, it was still mainly all intact. Some debris here or there, but the stairs you passed seemed safe to climb and the walls weren’t crumbling. The dragon stopped in what seemed to be a throne room, two empty chairs sat up ahead, dust collecting over the room. Sitting, the dragon faced you, its eyes blinking at you like a lost puppy. If anything, you were the lost puppy here.

Before you could speak up and question what the course of action was now, a figure appeared out of seemingly nowhere. He looked human, but some of his features were warped. Pointed ears, slitted eyes, fangs. You felt your heart jump when you realized he was a fae, a being that was thought to be wiped out, the only proof of their existence being dilapidated buildings (that were slowly being taken over by humans) and mentions in history books of the great fae war. You coward next to your dragon friend, watching as the fae knelt to the ground, his next words shaking your entire being.

“Prince Draconia, it’s good to see you back.”

Prince? Prince of…the fae? You…what have you got yourself into? The surname Draconia has been drilled into your head when you read history books. The terrible Fae War that was meant to save humanity. To fight against the Draconia lineage and get rid of fae once and for all. Apparently the books had missed one important issue. And now you were in the dragon's den, literally and figuratively.

“It seems like you’ve brought a friend,” The fae continued, crimson eyes falling onto your figure.

The dragon beside you shifted, his form turning more human in nature. He could’ve fooled you if it weren’t for the horns that sat on top of his head or the green slitted eyes that seemed to stare through you.

“This child of man broke me free from the prison they held me in,” Draconia explained, his bright eyes softening when they landed on you. “A truly strange individual indeed.”

“Should I prepare a room?” The fae responded, his smile seemed more mischievous than anything.

“Yes,” Draconia nodded calmly while you felt like you were going to explode. This was all happening too fast. You thought you were going to be eaten by a dragon for Pete’s sake! Not end up saving a prince that humans wanted dead and end up as a guest in his palace! Although you felt like a whirlwind was storming through your mind, you were too meek to speak up, left to watch the events unfold before you.

“I shall inform the servants of your return then, my liege,” The fae nodded. “Silver and Sebek shall be here shortly.”

Then in a poof, the fae disappeared. You turned to Draconia, unsure what to do or say. You were a mere peasant. A pickpocket, a lockpicker. You were not prepared for such a situation as you found yourself in.

“Thank you, dear child of man,” The fae prince bowed his head towards you. “If not for your kindness and bravery, I would not be here for my people. In return, you will be granted whatever your heart desires.” Once again, you found yourself blinking owlishly, and saying the first thing that came to mind.

“That’s a dangerous offer.”

Stupid. Why the hell would you say that? Now he’s going to think you’re a threat and-

Is he…chuckling? Why was his voice so smooth? What the hell is going on? You needed some time to yourself to clear your thoughts.

“Perhaps it is,” Draconia nodded, a fond smile resting on his lips (his fangs made it look a bit sinister but you could tell he wasn’t trying to be intimidating). “But I have trust in someone who was selfless enough to save not only a prisoner, but a dragon.”

You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what to ask for, “That’s a lot of trust for someone you don’t know.”

“Hmm,” He hummed, his amusement shining through his eyes. “Then perhaps we should get to know each other better.”

Damn he was smooth.

…

You found yourself not so easily forgetting about your past. The life on the streets, swiping food when you could, stealing others hard earned money. You weren’t proud, in fact, it was always like a cloud hung over your head. You could never keep a job, not that they paid well. And when you got the notice from the high king to slay a dragon you knew it was karma for living a dastardly life.

But now you found yourself living in luxury, something you found hard getting used to. A bed bigger than you’ve ever seen, sheets so silky you felt like you were sliding around, meals so extravagant your stomach hurt just looking at it. Not to mention the handsome prince who’d watch you like you’ve hung the stars.

It all felt wrong. Like you were an imposter. You have hurt people. It didn’t matter if you felt guilty because innocent people still dealt with the consequences of your thievery. How many went hungry because they ‘lost’ their coins? How many only broke even because you got your hands on their food without them noticing? You didn’t deserve the royal treatment you were currently receiving. Especially when your original goal wasn’t to save any prince or prisoner. You were sent there to kill a beast, and you merely found yourself empathizing with it. It was like stumbling upon a poor rabbit stuck in a trap, it would feel wrong to let it struggle until it died.

You felt sick as beautiful fabric draped over you, tailored to fit your every curve to the t. Jewelry covering any spots that may show skin. You weren’t stupid, you saw the way the servants would gaze at you coldly, the whispers that they carefully covered as small talk. Not only were you terrible to humans, but you were also a human. To fae that was the harbinger of doom. Apart of a people who attacked the fae for merely being different. Yes, fae were more powerful, but they kept to themselves.

You were practically drowning in riches, and you could only think about the people who could use it more than you. Sure you’ve had your fair share of going to bed hungry, sleeping outside and being dirty more than you’d like to think, but you weren’t the only one. Perhaps you weren’t as built for living rich like you thought you were, you couldn’t help but muse. Oh how naive you were when you dreamt of riches beyond your imagination.

Malleus observed your downtrodden state. How reluctant you were during meals, or how you looked at the jewelry adorning your body with so much disdain he could nearly feel it. You had managed to worm your way into his heart. Like in those human tales of the knight rescuing the royal, he found himself falling for his savior. Not because you were tasked to save him, or that you could’ve killed him but didn’t (it was clear the power imbalance between you both). It was because you saw him, in his full powerfully dangerous glory, and instead of choosing to kill, you chose to help. Something he hadn’t seen in any human before (not that he’s met many). You continued to surprise him. You were clearly not from noble descent. Your ragged tunic and chipped sword were clear indicators of that when you both met. Not to mention how you seemed so afraid to touch anything, even after he stated you could have what you want, you were still considerate of him and his property. Instead of asking for riches or gems, you seemed lost. Unsure of what you may desire. During your stay, your personality truly shined. You were naturally polite, treating the servants and knights like they were people instead of objects (something even most nobles failed at). So when your curious shining gaze turned into one of guilt, Malleus couldn’t just do nothing.

It was a gloomy afternoon. Briar Valley wasn’t the sunniest of places, you had learned. Malleus had invited you to have some tea in the palace garden, and who were you to deny him? You both sipped at your tea in a pleasant silence.

“How has your stay been?” Malleus was the first to break the silence. His bright green eyes watching you intently.

“More than I could ask for,” You replied, gaze falling onto your teacup.

“...and that is a bad thing?” He read you perfectly.

“I…I just don’t feel like, like I deserve any of this,” You muttered. “I’m not a good person. Not in the eyes of my people or yours.”

“So that’s the problem,” Malleus hummed. His features softened, but determination shone clearly in his eyes. “I promise you that you are not as bad as you view yourself, child of man. You have been nothing but lovely since the day I met you. Your heart is truly bigger than most, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong. I couldn’t think of a better person to spoil.”

“I think you have a bias,” You grumbled, trying to recover from how easy it was for him to fluster you.

“I think you have one as well, dear child of man,” Malleus chuckled.

…

You felt yourself slowly warm to your new life. Looked forward to seeing Malleus in the morning, seeing him off to his princely duties (as well as bidding farewell to Lilia). Although Silver and Sebek were Malleus’ retainers, he had ordered them to watch over you. At first it was daunting, but Silver was a sweetheart, and you slowly learned that Sebek didn’t actually hate you (hopefully), he was just very invested in Malleus’ wellbeing.

Over time, you found yourself wanting one thing. One thing that seemed impossible for Malleus to grant. You wanted to stay. Not just as some random human who saved the fae prince, but as a part of the weird family that they seemed to shape. You hadn’t felt so happy in a long, long time. You couldn’t recall the last time you had no worries, felt relaxed, found someone so comforting. And as you sat at the dining room table, pushing around your food, Lilia decided to point out the very thing you’ve been avoiding.

“So,” The pink and black haired fae said your name mischievously. “Have you thought of what you desire from Prince Draconia?” This question caught the attention of said prince, his gaze steady like he was pinning you down.

“Not really,” You smiled, waving off the question.

“Really?” Lilia asked with a fake pout. “‘Cus I’m pretty sure you thought of something quite specific.”

You tensed, shoulders raising, could he read minds? Was that even possible? Is he bluffing? Did your body language give you away?

“Did you have something in mind, child of man?” Malleus joined in. When you glanced at him, you noticed how he seemed a bit deflated.

“W-well…I have…” You stumbled. “I don’t…I don’t think it’s something you can grant…”

“You won’t know if you don’t ask~” Lilia chirped with a wink. “Malleus can grant more than you could imagine.”

“Lilia is right,” Malleus agreed. “There is little I won’t give you.” Your heart raced at his deeply sincere vow. You kept yelling in your mind that he didn’t mean it romantically.

Biting your lip, you decided to spill your wish, “I want to stay here…with you all…”

“Is that all?” Malleus asked, a bright grin tugging at his lips (it would be quite off putting as he always seemed so stoic, but you were too lovesick to think such a thought). “I would be delighted to host you here for as long as you wish.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but ask. “Won’t that be weird? I’m no noble, or royal, or related to anyone here.”

“If that is a problem for you, there is a way to solve such a problem,�� Malleus declared.

“Khehe~” Lilia giggled. “It seems we’ll have some planning to do.”

You stared at the two confused, and they refused to elaborate.

…

“Thank you,” You spoke up one evening as you stared at the roses that littered the garden. Malleus stood by your side, watching you lovingly. “For everything. You’ve done so much for me I can’t even explain it all.”

“I must thank you as well, child of man,” He replied in kind. “You have also shaped my future to be significantly brighter.”

“I suppose being freed from prison does that,” You teased, but Malleus didn’t smile nor did he laugh.

“You’ve done much more for me than merely unbuckling chains,” Malleus stated, gaze intense with an emotion you couldn’t put a finger on. “You have also unburdened my heart from its lonely cage, each day is brighter with your smile, with your love, with your kindness. I wish for you to stay by my side for as long as you’ll have me.”

You hadn’t expected your small gratitude to be taken to such an extent. You felt your heart flutter and your knees get weak. Just what was he leading up to? There was only one end in sight and you weren’t sure if you were ready for such a proposal.

“Would you do me the honor of ruling Briar Valley by my side?”

“M-mal…” Your voice trembled. You stared at him wide eyed, all the ways this could go wrong running through your head. “B-but I’m human…”

“Such trivial things do not matter to me.”

“But your people!” You exclaimed. “Th-they’ll riot!”

“My people trust in my judgment,” He muttered. “Besides, isn’t this like your human tales? The knight marries the royal and they live happily ever after?”

Malleus was right. You were truly living in your own fairytale. Sure, it was a bit backwards, but as you stared into his bright green eyes, you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, what knight wouldn’t choose the dragon?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #x reader #one shot #imagine

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lee-the-yeen · 15 days ago

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Thinking about the Toa Mata being kinda freaky from a Matoran's point of view. Like, full uncanny-valley type shit.

These godlike beings appear in pieces on your island home one day. They put themselves back together and silently make their ways towards your village.

The Turaga hail them as the heroes to defeat Makuta, but even they look...nervous. Unsure.

These beings don't look like you.

The Turaga had you expect how tall they were, but a demigod twice your height is an incredibly imposing sight. Their masks aren't quite right, like an amateur tried to sculpt them from memory, but you can't determine exactly what is so wrong, what is giving you that sinking feeling in your heartstone.

These beings don't act like you.

They stare, a lot. They're awkward at best, cold at worst, even when genuinely trying. It's like they've never been around a Matoran before, the beings they are sworn to protect.

These beings don't fight like you.

Their limbs are able to bend and twist in ways the Matoran can't. They're able to use their elemental powers in ways the Turaga have never seen.

These beings aren't alive like you.

They don't really eat, instead they absorb energy directly through their hands. They don't really sleep, their eyes dim and they just go really still, right where they sit or stand.

But they are here to help. And Mata Nui, they do.

And over time, they learn. They figure out how to show the care and kindness that they've always intended.

You grow to accept that these saviors, their strangeness grows to be a comfort for you.

Then, when they go underground to deal with the Bahrag and come back looking entirely different.

They speak of this 'energized protodermis' and how it mutated their bodies, but killed anything else that touched it.

They're still the same Toa, you trust them. But Great Spirit guide you, you need some time to get used to those new masks. You've truly seen nothing like them before, but the Toa still refer to them with the same names.

Idk I think seeing the Mata/Nuva through a horror-ish lens could be fun :3

#bionicle #lego bionicle #lego #toa #toa mata #toa nuva #yeen babbles

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happy74827 · 2 months ago

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Something Like Bliss

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Even in moments that seem serene, you can’t let yourself forget the truth of who he is, and what he’s truly capable of {GIF Creds: dilfgifs}

WC: 1714

Category: Hurt/No Comfort

After nine months, I felt another Homelander fic was necessary. Especially after seeing Antony in G20 🙊

『••✎••』

The penthouse is quiet tonight, except for the faint hum of the city below. You’re perched on the edge of the suede couch, fingers tracing the seam of a throw pillow, its fabric too perfect, too pristine, like everything else in this place. Homelander’s place.

The air smells faintly of his cologne—something sharp and expensive, like cedar and steel—and it clings to everything, including you.

You shift, your bare feet brushing the cool marble floor, and glance at the clock. He’s late. Not by much, but enough to make your stomach twist. He doesn’t like being late. Or rather, he doesn’t like anything that suggests he’s not in control.

The door hisses open, and there he is: the world’s greatest hero, Homelander, striding in like he’s stepping onto a stage. His cape sways behind him, catching the dim light of the chandelier, its red fabric almost liquid in motion.

He’s immaculate, as always—blonde hair swept back, not a strand out of place, suit pristine, the star-spangled blue clinging to his frame like it was painted on. But you notice the little things, the ones most people miss. How there was a slight tension in his jaw, a muscle ticking just below his ear. The way his gloved hands flex at his sides, fingers curling ever so slightly like he’s restraining himself from something.

His eyes, those piercing blue eyes, scan the room before landing on you, and for a split second, they’re not the warm, practiced gaze of America’s savior. They’re sharp, predatory, and assessing.

"You’re still up," he says, his voice smooth but with an edge like he’s testing you. He tilts his head just a fraction, and the light catches the faint stubble along his jaw—barely there, but enough to remind you he’s not entirely the polished god he presents to the world. There’s a humanness to him buried deep, and it’s in these moments you see it most clearly.

You nod, offering a small smile, careful not to overdo it.

"Couldn’t sleep," you say, keeping your tone light and neutral.

His eyes narrow slightly, and you wonder if he’s using that x-ray vision of his, peering through you, searching for a lie. You’ve learned to keep your heartbeat steady around him, not because you’re afraid—though you’d be a fool not to be cautious—but because he notices everything. The faintest uptick in your pulse, the slightest catch in your breath. He’s like a shark in the water, circling for blood.

He crosses the room in three long strides, his boots silent on the marble, and drops onto the couch beside you. Too close. His thigh brushes yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric of your lounge pants. You don’t move away. You’ve learned that, too. He leans back, one arm draped over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck. It’s deliberate, that touch, a reminder of his presence, his power. His head lolls slightly, and he’s looking at you now, really looking, his gaze heavy, almost suffocating.

"You look tired," he says, but it’s not concern in his voice. It’s observation like he’s cataloging you. His eyes flick over your face—your slightly chapped lips, the faint shadows under your eyes, the way your hair falls messily over one shoulder. You feel exposed, like a specimen under a microscope, but you don’t flinch. You meet his gaze, noticing the way his pupils dilate just a fraction, the blue of his irises almost swallowed by the black.

He’s intrigued, maybe even pleased, that you’re not cowering.

"Long day," you reply, keeping your voice soft but steady. You tilt your head, mirroring his posture, and let your eyes drift over him in return. The faint crease in his suit at the shoulder, where it’s been stretched just a little too tight. The way his chest rises and falls, slower than a normal man’s like he’s consciously controlling his breathing. The tiniest nick on his chin, barely visible, a remnant of some fight or stunt or god-knows-what. It’s gone by morning, always is, but right now, it’s there, a crack in the facade.

He hums, a low sound in his throat, and his fingers at the back of your neck start to move, tracing lazy circles. It’s not affectionate, not really, but it’s not threatening either. It’s possessive.

"You know, I’ve been thinking." He says, his voice dropping, softer now, almost intimate. He pauses, and you notice the way his lips twitch. But it’s not quite a smile. It’s more like he’s testing the waters. "Maybe living blissfully isn’t such a bad thing."

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning you’re not sure you want to unpack. You study him, searching for the tell. His expression is carefully neutral, but there’s a glint in his eyes, a hunger that’s always there, just beneath the surface. He’s not talking about peace or contentment, not the way normal people would. He’s talking about control. He’s talking about a world where he doesn’t have to fight for it, where he can just be, and everyone—everything—falls in line, including you.

You swallow, and his eyes track the movement of your throat, a predator’s instinct.

"Blissfully?" You echo, letting the word roll off your tongue, testing it. "Like… what? No more cameras? No more Vought breathing down your neck?"

His lips curl into a smile now, sharp and a little too perfect, like a magazine cover come to life.

"Something like that," he says, but there’s a darkness in his tone, a weight. He leans closer, and you catch the faintest whiff of something metallic on him—blood, maybe, or the residue of whatever he’s been doing tonight. His gloved hand moves to your knee, and he squeezes just enough to make you aware of his strength. "You ever think about it? A life where none of this—" he gestures vaguely, the motion encompassing the penthouse, the city, the world "—matters?"

You hesitate because you know he’s not asking. He’s probing, searching for weakness, for loyalty. You notice how his shoulders are just a little too stiff, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s not sure of you, not entirely, and that’s dangerous. But it’s also an opportunity.

You lean forward, closing the distance between you, and his breath hitches—just for a fraction of a second, but you catch it.

"Maybe," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You let your hand rest on his chest, feeling the hard plane of muscle beneath the suit, the steady thrum of his heart. It’s slower than yours, unnaturally so, and it reminds you of what he is. Not human, not really, but close enough to fool you if you let him. "But you’d get bored, wouldn’t you? Without the chaos?"

His laugh is sudden and sharp, and it startles you. It’s not the warm, rehearsed chuckle he gives on talk shows. It’s raw, almost unhinged, and it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"Bored?" he repeats like the word is absurd. His hand moves from your knee to your face, cupping your chin, with his thumb brushing your lower lip. His grip is firm, not painful, but there’s no mistaking the strength behind it. "Oh, sweetheart, I’d find ways to keep busy."

The pet name is new, and it sends a shiver down your spine—not entirely unpleasant, but you’re not naive enough to think it’s genuine. You study his face, the way his eyes are locked on yours, unblinking, like he’s trying to see into your soul. The faint scar above his eyebrow is almost invisible unless you’re this close. The way his blonde lashes catch the light, too perfect. It makes you wonder what he sees when he looks at you.

A toy? A puzzle? A threat?

You tilt your head into his touch, just enough to make him think you’re leaning into it, and his grip softens, his thumb lingering on your lip. "Bliss sounds nice," you say, keeping your voice low, almost seductive. "But you’re not the type to settle, are you?"

His smile fades, just for a moment, and you see it—the flicker of something real, something vulnerable. It’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that mask of confidence, but you’ve seen it now, and you file it away.

He leans back, releasing your chin, but his hand stays close, resting on your thigh, a silent tether. "Maybe I could be," he says, and it’s almost convincing, the way his voice softens, the way his eyes search yours. Almost.

You don’t push him. You’ve learned that, too. Instead, you lean back, mirroring his posture again, and let the silence stretch. The city hums below, a reminder of the world outside this bubble, but here, in this moment, it’s just you and him. His fingers tap idly on your thigh, a restless rhythm, and you notice the way his shoulders have relaxed just a fraction. He’s comfortable, or as close to it as he gets.

Maybe living blissfully isn’t such a bad thing, you think, but not in the way he means it. For you, it’s about survival, about navigating this man who could crush you without a second thought. It’s about noticing the little things—the tension in his jaw, the flicker in his eyes, the way his hands betray his restraint—and using them to stay one step ahead. Bliss, for you, is keeping him close without letting him consume you.

"You’re staring," he says suddenly, his voice teasing, but there’s an edge to it like he’s daring you to admit something. His lips quirk, and you notice the faintest dimple in his cheek, another imperfection he’d never let the cameras see.

You smile, small and careful, and shrug. "You’re worth staring at," you say, and it’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth he thinks it is.

His laugh is quieter this time, almost genuine, and he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. You let him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the unnatural warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart.

For now, you’re safe. For now, you’re his. And maybe, if you play this right, you can stay that way.

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ladyrosemone · 3 months ago

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Smile

At first, when I see you cry, yeah, it makes me smile, yeah, it makes me smile. - Lily Allen.

Using Google Translate here! Sorry it took me so long! College got heavy and blocked all my imagination, but I'm back and hopefully more often!

Tags: @tsuniio, @simpingpandas, @dakotali, @softycheol, @cristy-101.

"Are you sure it's here?"

They all thought about it, Tim said it; the road in the batmobile was silent, each vigilante thinking about the possibilities of the call, who had made it and how they had done it, how they had passed under their noses and cornered them in their own territory.

Alfred couldn't help this time, he was as in the dark as the heroes themselves, Barbara didn't find any useful information besides the contract that was already half empty, Stephenie and Duke were looking from outside for some extra clue at the crime scene and Cassandra protected the mansion in her absence. The rest of them are guided by the little they found, and they found that there is something waiting in that abandoned house.

The surroundings fade with each passing kilometer; the buildings are replaced by mountains of garbage, which were reduced to empty sand and salty winds. Jason travels beside them on his motorcycle, alert for any surprise attack, intrigued by the location they are heading to; Why on the outskirts of Gotham? Why a house half-collapsed? Why only now after months of anonymity? Why, why, why?

Dusk falls when they reach their destination; desolate but peaceful, the low tide sings to them like sirens and the seagulls shout ignored warnings to the wind. The car's engine turns off and the motorcycle parks beside them.

They all go downstairs and look suspiciously at the rotten wooden door, the broken windows covered with black plastic bags and the moldy walls outside. Batman (as usual) was the first to enter with his guard up, he tried to push the door gently but with the slightest touch it fell to the ground breaking into pieces.

"Well, we already announced our arrival" even Dick's joking whisper did little to calm the tense atmosphere; they split up to inspect the few rooms the shack has, a kitchen with a small living room right there, two bedrooms and a patio that looked out onto the beach.

They all looked empty, few pieces of furniture with tattered or torn clothing and just an old bed, it seems like homeless people spend their nights here or come to get high, they bet that one or two crimes happened between the walls based on the dried blood stains on...well, all the floors.

"This is a waste of time" Robin complains, kicking a rock "We tear this place down, maybe we'll find something or get rid of it, either is better than this"

"We should search everything first" Batman orders.

"It's not that big of a deal" Jason snorts, slamming a kitchen cabinet shut; it's broken "We already did and there's just trash"

"There's something we're not seeing" Tim was (after Bruce) the most eager to discover the identity of this 'Savior', the figure behind the advantage and difficulties in the underworld of Gotham, where not even the bat goes down. This house was the key to discover it, had sent them here for a reason, there is always a reason in his tracks and he will not leave until he discovers it "It must be around here but we can't see it"

Jason tries to turn on the lights, obviously it doesn't work and the evening light runs out, not that there was too much coming in through the covered windows; the reddish tone of the Sun hits the broken parts of the lining hitting the black and damp walls, A cracked path stands out from the old paint, linear and somewhat wobbly throughout the hallway to the end where, on the far wall, a broken mirror hangs. Tim realizes this as he feels the walls, his fingers brush the mark and follows it like a hypnotized person until he reaches the mirror; there are rusty pieces scattered on the floor, others still hang from the mirror.

With his metal rod he feels the bottom, it sounds hollow, there is definitely something behind. He removes the glass, and behind one is a handle that, unlike literally everything else, doesn't look rusty, I could even say it's brand new.

Batman took his place, in case something is waiting for them, he won't let his son take the first hit.

The five of them walk in silence down a hallway warmly lit by lamps, the stairs lined with black velvet muffling their footsteps and the walls painted an exquisite wine red are decorated with paintings of robins. One by one, until they reach a closed door, the paintings reflect more and more of these flocking birds perched on an oak tree, the last painting however, has something different from the others.

Above the painting is a black spray-painted shield, the shield of the bat.

A soft humming noise passes through the door, imperceptible to other people, loud and clear to them. Cautiously they open the door; the first thing that greets them is a room empty of furniture or windows, illuminated by a whitish light among the dark tones.

But it is not entirely empty, not with the seated figure with his back to them, humming and painting on a canvas unaware of their presence.

But is it?

"I thought they'd get here sooner" you say calmly, as if you were talking to an old acquaintance. Maybe that's how it is "You took your time"

"No more riddles" Batman -Bruce- cuts him off with a slash "Give yourself up, it's over"

"Did it?" You laugh at that, the dramatic manner he usually uses with his victims "You still underestimate me if you think that"

"You sound pretty confident for someone who's surrounded" Red Hood mocks, playing with the handle of his gun, waiting for an opportunity, a reason, whatever.

"What shade of red is your helmet?" You ask boredly "I'm not sure if it's scarlet or carmine red" You hear the draw of a gun "I guess we're about to find out"

Dick grabs his arm, stopping him, pointing his head to the corners of the room where there are small surveillance cameras. Below them an ejection device is pointed at them, probably a heavily loaded gun.

"I didn't bring you two together to fight" You begin to speak, tracing the outline of the wings "The Penguin is usually a good customer, he doesn't cause trouble and pays for his purchases, but lately he's forgotten his place and he's bothering me"

"What do we care about that?" Robin bellows, his hand ready to pull out his trusty Katana.

"Your research is stuck, isn't it?" You say, and his lack of response makes you smile "I have the piece you're missing, and you can send a message for me, it's a win-win"

"Why would I accept?" Batman questions, always suspicious.

"My principles are clear and my values sacred, I am governed by loyalty and honesty, it is the key to any successful business" your businesses are turbulent and unethical, most, if not all, threaten human life or profit from it. But you are not cruel, they are there by choice, you only care for your people animals enough to stay where you are. Batman takes a step closer to you "No no no" you sing, pointing at the camera.

Wisely he pauses.

“Now, shall we agree on terms?” You laugh, painting the leaves of the tree a nice shade of green. Reluctantly, and knowing they were at a disadvantage this time, Batman grunts, a growl of approval probably.

"One second" Nightwing interrupts "What assures us that you'll keep your end of the bargain?"

"The Penguin is ruining a good deal for me in one of my biggest districts" you explain calmly, though there may be a bit of irritation in your tone "I'm doing my best to stop him, but the runt bastard knows how to play this game, so I'll cheat a little and use you two"

"That's not honest" he sneers, countering what you said about your values "Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty" is all you say; the truth is you use what suits you, so what? "Are you going to interrupt me again?"

It seems like you are, but you ignore him.

"I give you locations, plans, and agents to arrest him, what you do with him afterwards doesn't matter much to me, just leave him conscious, in exchange for that I want you to spend time with me"

"What?"

Your painting is finished; Nine robins and a bat in the middle of them, perched on a tree branch, trapped in a golden cage.

Then you turn around and the air freezes, because they recognize you; the first is bewildered, the second is scared, the third understands, the fourth denies it, and the one leading them takes off his mask revealing a delicious shock and panic at the sight of you.

"Hello Bruce, long time, don't you think?" You smile, turning to look at him; two drops of water, two almost perfect reflections, past and present face him suddenly.

And you won the battle.

#batboy!reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #yandere x reader #abandoned reader #batbros x reader #batfamily x reader #batsis!reader #dc x reader #yandere batfam

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yeet-me-lol · 6 months ago

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Silent Hero

Doodles for moree.

I have this idea of where Protagonist accidentally befriend him.

The benefits after have him,

1. Puzzle Assistance: He appears unexpectedly to use his long shadow arms to manipulate objects, reach hidden items, or reveal solutions the Protagonist couldn’t access alone.

2. Terrifying Threat: His sudden appearance is enough to frighten hostile entities into fleeing or backing off without him needing to fight.

3. Silent Savior: Mr. Grin helps without explanation or lingering—after solving the problem or scaring off threats, he vanishes back into the shadows, leaving the Protagonist wondering when he might return.

#homicipher #homicipher oc #oc #mr crawling #mr scarletella #mr hugeface #Mah hand hurtttt

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mosquito-queen · 28 days ago

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yelena thought herself as death - so careful not to touch kate. so careful not to tread into the abyss. her resurrection from the blip was the opposite of godly. she returned earthside with a penance that could decimate a population. and she did just that.

and then one night, after a drink that turned into six, she confided in a stranger. well a not so stranger, but also a not so friend. she wasn’t exactly sure what category kate bishop fell into except it definitely was one she shouldn’t have.

“yelena you aren’t - you couldn’t possibly think you’re death with a capital D.”

“then explain it, kate bishop. explain how everything i touch dies. i cannot do it again.”

and yelena was true to her word. she became a ghost in kate’s life, a shadow just on the peripheral of her vision. she was texts from a burner phone every couple of months, a call from a pay phone on a random day in july, a visit nearly every christmas (it was the season of miracles after all). kate liked it most of all when yelena would send her postcards with no return addresses. when yelena was contacting her with no intent for reply, just the admission she still thought about kate from time to time.

kate hadn’t seen yelena for months when their missions decided to overlap. and the last time they shared the same space was yelena stumbling in with the new year, her mouth tasting like a dive bar. and she had looked so bone achingly sad. the kind of sad kate knew about from when she was sitting graveside in a chair that was too big for a child. and yelena had so deliciously said, “kate bishop, i make resolution every stupid year to stay away from you, but here i am.”

and kate had felt really freaking cool. but now, months later, she was definitely not being cool falling from a building due to a poorly timed explosion. kate could still hear yelena’s scream pounding in her ears. this was going to be such terrible way to die.

and kate was falling, screaming yelena’s name. she was out of ideas, out of tricks and chances. there was nothing left but a free fall to hell. but she was screaming yelena’s name like there was something the black widow could possibly do. but that was always the thing with yelena: kate hung every hope at her door. just waiting for the day she would open it.

and then the worst pain suddenly shot up kate’s shoulder and down her back, and there was definitely a guttural snap somewhere between bone and muscle. and kate thought maybe she had hit the ground and the impact was so strong it followed her into the afterlife.

but then the incessant calling of her name in a russian accent pulled her from dissociation. enough that she recognized yelena’s bare skin was touching her wrist, nails biting into her flesh, ripping her arm from socket as her body was suspended from free fall. the air went out of kate’s lungs at the wrench to her arm, and she struggled to look up at her savior. her savior who said through gritted teeth, “hello, kate bishop.”

once upon a time ago, yelena sat across a charred table from a girl that owned one fork. and that girl with her one fork called her dead sister ‘collateral damage’ for a man’s so called accession to hero status. and the strain in yelena’s arm at the poor angle and worse grip on kate’s wrist, and the way kate didn’t grip back in fear she would topple yelena through the window made yelena realize that man didn’t let her sister go. her sister went willingly. silently into the abyss. that she traded her life for his, for yelena’s, for the hope of tomorrow.

yelena would trade hers for the girl dangling thirty stories from the ground. she knew the scale wouldn’t be in her favor, too many terrible things weighed her soul down. kate was as light as a feather.

and yelena felt her tether give an inch, dropping her further out the window. everything she touched was always spoiled. her face hardened, jaw set, eyes glossed. everything she ever loved always left in the end. and she had been so careful this time, kept kate at arms distance, only saw her once a blue moon, kept away from the warmth and joy and terrible desire for tenderness. yelena went on her missions and nursed whiskey to sleep and was so terribly alone. she didn’t even have herself. wasn’t that enough punishment to make up for the blood and terror and grief? no amount of care or consequence could suture the rip of destruction yelena cut through mankind. was she not destined to be the grim reaper?

she had done everything right. not a single touch or slight of affection passed between her and kate bishop. especially not when kate was on her own missions with her own people and blissfully unaware of what happens to a decommissioned nuclear warhead.

but now kate bishop was going to die. yelena was a predestined death sentence. but kate bishop was still alive. and yelena was nothing short of determination and sheer spite.

yelena was hanging out a broken window, arms straining and blood thrumming, she was kate bishop’s saving grace. and then it’s yelena hauling kate back through the window, cutting her own arms in the process.

and it’s kate backlit in a radiant glow of the setting sun, it’s kate toppling over onto yelena, sobs hiccuping and relief flooding like ecstasy. it’s yelena pulling kate’s head down to rest their foreheads together, sweat and tears sharing salt.

and it’s yelena choking out, “we really made it.”

“yeah, we did.”

because kate was never wrong to bet on an angel of death. she couldn’t be reaped by someone that never wanted her dead.

#bishova #kate bishop #yelena belova

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rebelliousstories · 10 months ago

Text

Walking Tropes

Relationship: Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Brief Strong Language, Brief Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,495

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Being introduced to the merc’s friend and finding that she is just as annoying? Absolutely believable. Liking said annoying friend of even more annoying red suited anti-hero? No way.

In celebration of saving the multiverse, and returning home, Wade proposed holding another party. A do-over for his birthday celebration that was cut short because of the TVA. For the time being, Logan and Laura had taken to living in an apartment that was across the hall from them since it was all they could get on such short notice. Just about everyone was at the party, and Logan was having a surprisingly good time, considering some of the company.

He held the weird little dog-like creature named Mary Puppins while Laura fiddled with her little Mohawk. The girl took the dog from him, which allowed the man to grab his beer from the table and sit back to enjoy a drink. A knock sounded at the door, and he got nervous. Looking to Wade, he did not share in the nervousness, but rather looked excited. The merc got up from where he had been chatting with Vanessa to answer the door.

After some brief conversation, Wade brought in what could only be described as a ray of sunshine. Her clothing was muted, but her smile was not. Logan knew that his eyes were glued to her figure, as much as he tried to pull them away. A nudge at his side brought him out of his staring only to be met with Laura’s impish smirk. He rolled his eyes and took another swig of his beer.

“Peanut, mini-peanut, I want you to meet my friend that introduced me to all the good things in life.” Wade supplied her name, but Logan was not listening. He was only focused on the way she beamed and stuck out her hand.

“Logan.” Short and sweet, and he listened as she rolled his name off of the tip of her tongue.

“Hi. I’m Laura,” she jutted in, sticking her hand in. The woman turned and was happily engaging with the young lady.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you guys. Wade has said nothing but good things about you.” Her chipper voice made it rather difficult for Logan to try and not like her.

Over the course of the party, the mutant was faced with a dilemma. His gruff exterior refused to allow him to do much else except sip his beer and engage quietly with Laura and Al. But he so desperately wanted to talk with this newcomer that Wade had brought. His eyes silently watched her during the evening, and it was confusing for him.

This woman was so happy, so full of life, and held so much sunshine in her. But just could not help himself. She was in the kitchen, fixing herself a drink and a small plate of snack foods. The lukewarm and empty bottle in his hands gave him the perfect excuse to get up and go into the kitchen where she was. Making his way in, she began to make her way out with her drink and plate, but a collision changed everything.

Turning, her body collided with a thick chest. Food spilled across the floor, and her cup fell from her hands, and she was about to join her food. Except, large warm hands spanned across her back and held her close. She let out a squeak. Looking with wide eyes, she was smiling as she gazed up at her savior.

“Hi Logan,” she breathed out.

“Hey bub. You alright?” His voice was soft, and caring as he assessed how she was.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Thank you.” Their eyes were locked together, but after a brief moment she had to peal away to grab the contents of her plate from the floor. She was soon joined by Logan, who came down and began to help.

“You don’t have to clean up my mess, you know?” She quipped, putting a nacho on the plate bound for the garbage.

“Kind of is my fault though. Should at least help you clean up.” He replied, picking up a cookie that looked disgusting now.

“Thank you, then.”

“You’re welcome.”

From that point on, it seemed like she was everywhere he was. Logan did not believe in fate, and he did not want to ever admit to that out loud. And yet, he was starting to feel like something was dong this in the universe. It also probably did to help that she lived on the same floor of the apartment building as Wade and Logan.

All this to say, Logan was seeing her everywhere. At the store, at the mailboxes on the first floor, around town at her favorite coffee shop. She had even invaded his dreams. But the most frustrating part of it all, was that she had no clue how she affected him. Maybe he was not on his game like he had been in his long youth, but he was sure that he was giving her hints as to his feelings.

The stories he had heard through his time around her never ceased to amaze him as well. Somehow this clumsy cutie had almost gotten involved with the mob. She had to be saved by Wade who just came in and got her from getting deeper into the trouble that was brewing. Or the time that she was pulled over in a random search of her car driving home one night with a box of puppies someone had dumped on the side of the road. You would not expect it, but she had led an interesting life.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, peanut?” Logan was brought out of his thoughts by the annoying man he had begrudgingly befriended.

“Nothing.” He grumbled, but that answer would not suffice Wade. Following the older man’s eye line, he was met with the image of the woman of his affections talking with Laura and Vanessa while holding Mary Puppins.

“Oh, I see. Listen, peanut,” he began, “you’ve just gotta tell her you want to put some balls in holes for a ring. She won’t respond well to subtle hints.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All I’m saying is that you’ve got to spell it out for her. She’s a little absent upstairs. Like, the wheel is spinning but the hamster is dead most of the time. And especially being around a hunk like you; that hamster died, came back to life, got off on your image, and then died again.” Now, Logan had turned to face the merc, who was maintaining an almost innocent expression on his face.

“She just doesn’t want me. And I don’t blame her.” They both turned back to the women who were now laughing loudly at their best impressions of the pup.

“I know I make everything a punch line, but listen, Logan. She does. I’ve known that woman a long time, and she has never looked at everyone the way that she looks at you. Now I’m going to get the dog, you go talk to the girl.” Patting him twice on the back, Wade shot the older man a wink before stalking off and taking the three ladies away from his friend.

She made an excuse about needing another drink and went off into the kitchen by herself. Logan followed her with his eyes, and looked nervously back to the wrinkled man. He was mouthing what he only hoped was words of encouragement that looked oddly like, “go get the fucking girl.” Logan pulled a face, but went off in the same direction of the woman that had captivated him. Much like the first time they first properly talked, she was fixing herself a drink and a small plate of food.

“Hey.” A low rumble sounded through the kitchen. The girl at the drink station got spooked by hm, but did not drop everything this time around.

“Hey, Lo. How are you felling today?” She asked, genuinely turning to him.

“I’m doing alright. You good?”

“Yeah, I am.” There was a beat of awkward silence in the room while they both made their drinks.

“Hey, um, would you maybe-” Logan tried to start, but was struggling to find the words. She was just patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“I want to go on a date with you.” He blurted out finally.

“Me? Really?” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him. There was an adoration that he had not noticed before.

“Yeah,” Logan breathed out, “yeah. I want to take you out. If you’d like.”

“I didn’t think that you liked me like that. I’d love to go out on a date with you, Logan.” Sweet words tumbled out of her, and they sent the man into a state of euphoria. Logan chuckled, and smiled wide enough that he could have split his face. With his arms open, she took that opportunity to throw herself into them which threw Logan off balance. He quickly regained it, but squeezed his arms around her still.

Safe to say, Logan was glad that he saved this timeline.

#rebelliousstories #writing #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine #xmen imagine #x men comics #x men movies #x men imagine #x men

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lara-kaminari · 4 months ago

Text

𝑺𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒓 - 𝑶𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔 𝑮𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕 × 𝑭!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

warnings: smut, big dick!ominis, size kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk (a lot).

w/c: 2.5K

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! I'm practicing a different way of doing smut and trying that whole dirty talk thing, this shit is hard. Believe me, I don't understand what I write because in my language it sounds different and there are things that.... Well... This really was an experience.

No one would ever guess that a fun adventure could end in a nightmare.

The decorated Hogwarts hero always stood up to danger. Years had passed since her student days and her bravery was still as strong as when she survived a dragon attack. After such terrible experiences, should infiltrating an illegal network of dark wizards have been a problem? Of course not, which is why she took the job.

However, nothing went according to plan.

That's okay. All is not lost. She may be alone now, half-naked, tied up in a basement with other women waiting to be sold to the highest bidder, but it's only a matter of time until she comes up with a good plan. If it weren't for the drugs in her food she would have caused a tremendous explosion by now.

Maybe someone from the Ministry knows about the sale and they will come to her rescue. Yes, that would be logical. Just the right person in the crowd and it's all over. Even if no one shows up she'll be able to snap his neck when he gets distracted; yes, she'll get the attention of the man in that hideous see-through nightgown they've put on her and put her hands around his neck until he stops breathing.

—You're next.

One of the dark wizards pulls her by the arm and she restrains the urge to bite him.

They take her to some kind of small stage, there is a strong light hitting her face and making it difficult to see beyond her feet. The man continues to hold her arm and she has to turn her face away so that the light stops burning her retinas.

They call her name, set a base price and the auction begins.

No one has that much money, but there are many striving to raise the price. It's hard to see who's talking or where the exit is. The best thing to do would be to wait for some poor sucker to buy it and then get rid of him. Or maybe no one will come up with suitable numbers and return it to the basement.

A male voice offers a number so loud that the room falls silent. And just like that, she is sold.

Who bought her? That's a good question. As she is dragged into a room in solitary for her to meet her buyer she schemes out a possible answer. That voice in the crowd sounded familiar. Too familiar. The low, serious, almost cold tone reminded her of….

But it couldn't be.

Ominis Gaunt is just an old memory from school. Were they close? Yes, briefly in fifth grade. Then Sebastian came along and… The rest is history. Ominis was always staunch in his beliefs and ideals, no one could change that. She couldn't. However, what if he was her savior? Only a good person like Ominis Gaunt could rescue her.

It comes as a pleasant surprise that he's the one who walks through the door.

—So it's true. —He said. —This is where you've ended up… Not quite worthy of your glory.

—Ominis…I knew I recognized your voice, I didn't think the Ministry would send you to rescue me; how long have you been working with them? Are you an auror?

—Work with the Ministry? They work for me.

—I don't understand.

But maybe she did understand a little. She hadn't seen Ominis since school ended. She'd heard stories about him taking over some family business, but nothing too explicit. However, seeing him there, seeing him in his dark splendor was a different matter.

For he did, indeed, look different. Taller, more serious, though with that hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. He was well dressed and his clothes looked expensive. Something in his figure screamed that he did not mean well.

—What are you doing here, Ominis?

—I'm shopping, and I seem to have acquired an interesting toy.

—I don't-…

—I've bought you, now you belong to me.

—What now? Will you hurt me?

—Maybe, I could hurt you. I could hurt you very much, but I won't. I can't, you're my new little doll and I would never hurt you. —As Ominis spoke, he placed his hands on her waist. She closed her eyes. His chest bumped against hers. —Although I would hurt people for you… And I would have to punish you if you made things difficult.

She had nowhere to go. Ominis began to kiss the curve where her neck and shoulder met.

—I know you'll be good; after all, you're such a good little angel that you'd never do anything to be punished, would you? —Ominis began to nibble gently at her neck, ignoring the way she tried to push him away. —Because I'd have to be too hard on you and I know you don't want that.

No. He was insane, there had to be another way out.

—Ominis, just… Just let me go now and… And we can… We can forget this, no need for us to-…..

Ominis pushes her against the nearby wall and she screams, she doesn't know if from shock or from the blow. Her attention is snatched away by the sensation of two cold hands squeezing her tits above her nightgown.

—You have a very nice pair of tits, big and soft. —He said, as if there was no problem with her actions or words.

He circled her nipple with a fingertip before stroking and pinching it lightly. She squealed. Ominis took one of the nipples into his mouth. He licked it once before closing his lips to suck. She squirmed against the wall at the invasive sensations. He nibbled and caressed her breast to give the other some attention as well.

—Now I want you to listen to me. —hissed Ominis. His voice was stern, like a priest before a sinner. —My comfort is the only thing that matters; I own you, I possess you… Repeat it.

His hand slowly moves down to the mound of her new toy. She doesn't react fast enough to push him away. Ominis is touching her. He is touching her between her legs.

—Your comfort is the only thing that matters. You… You own me. —She repeated.

His finger had begun to move back and forth like the pendulum of a clock, the tip barely grazing her slit.

—Very good, and what else?

Every caress against her outer lips was a well-founded provocation. It was different for him since touch was his most reliable avenue of perception. Ominis wanted to feel everything and play with it.

The velvety soft finger pressed lightly, breaking her folds and still swinging like a pendulum, only now the tip of his finger pressed against her clitoris with each pass, giving her a jolt of lightning each time he did it.

—You own me.

—Excellent, that's just what I want to hear.

Her mouth opened and her head jerked back as a finger pressed, plunging into her hot folds completely, coating herself with the wetness she found there. Within seconds another joined in, invading her property, she moaned and Ominis' laughter in response was so dark it nearly brought her to orgasm.

—Do you think I never wanted to fuck this pussy? You were always so close and so far away, strutting around with total confidence; for years I wanted to show you where your true place is: kneeling at my feet. —His fingers had curled, trapping her clit between his knuckles, stimulating her hidden sides as they moved back and forth, pulling back her hood and making her see stars. —Oh but it would be a shame to do it this way, don't you think? Wouldn't it be sweeter if you asked me? Tell me you want this, tell me and I'll give it to you.

She was in no condition to answer. Her hips moved on their own following the movement of his fingers. Her legs spread a little wider, perhaps there would be more dignity in simply remaining silent and waiting for him to take what he wanted from her.

That last prospect was less embarrassing. Her current situation was terrible: She felt her clitoris flushing red hot and only Ominis' hands could soothe her.

—You'll have to talk sooner or later, my dear; what does this needy little pussy want from me?

Ominis was brusque and overbearing, perhaps more of a beast than a man. Who could blame her for giving in?

—Please. —she moaned, all too aware of the way he rubbed her clit from above, from the sides, anywhere just where she needed it.

The outline of his cock stood out in relief against his sleek tailored pants, a fat, full cock desperate to get out. She wanted to be filled by his cock, for him to stretch her beyond her limits and fuck her in just the way his words threatened.

—Please, make me cum. —She begged. The pressure of his fingers had settled into a merely provocative rhythm cupping her entire mound in his palm and she gasped as the fingers inside her curled.

—Is that what you need?

Merlin, she was going to cum soon enough at this rate, having an orgasm under these circumstances from being unable to control herself. Who knows what Ominis would do next now that she has fallen into his trap. All she knows is that he really likes her little screams and whimpers.

—That's it; I'll take over this pretty pussy anytime you want me to, sweetheart. Whenever you want to be licked I'll spread your legs to eat you out until you cum. Every time you want me to fill you with my cock I'll be here to fuck you so good you won't be able to remember your own name. —Ominis gasped, increasing the intensity of her fingers. —I'm going to spoil this pussy any way you want, all you have to do is let yourself go.

She wasn't sure what was making her come: the way he was rubbing her or the things he was saying. He penetrated her with a solid, firm flick of his wrist, stroking her inner walls and never letting up on his pressure on her clitoris, and she stirred as if she were in heat.

When she clenched around him, her thighs quivering and her eyes moist, he let out a low murmur of approval, continuing his motion until her contractions slowed. She watched him through narrowed eyes withdraw his hand and suck his fingers clean, as calm and serene as ever.

—Ominis…

There was no going back. She wanted more.

—Is this what you want? —The bulge in Ominis' pants was prominent, she felt her hands tingling with the need to see its weight and thickness.

—Yes. —She whispered, her mouth was dry.

—Yes what? Be clearer.

—Yes, this is what I want, I want your cock. —Her eyes closed momentarily out of inadequate modesty. She was gnawed by the desire to get down on her knees and take it right then and there.

—My cock? Is that what you want? Would you enjoy eating my cock?

She swallowed hard and her legs spread a little wider, searching in vain for a friction that wasn't there. Pleasure wasn't even beginning to categorize how the idea of touching him, stroking him and bringing him to orgasm felt.

—Use your words. —He wasn't playing, the note of danger in his voice was the reminder.

—Yes…

—Yes what? Do you need me to teach you how to speak properly?

He's a bastard.

She looked up and a moment of bravery came over her.

—Yes… I'd really enjoy stroking your cock. I'd love to stroke your cock.

—Tell me more.

He made no move to stop her as she reached out to stroke him over his clothes and her hands helped unbuckle his belt.

—I'd like to milk you dry.

—Lean on your hands and knees on the bed, you have earned a reward.

This couldn't be real, being on her hands and knees on the bed, facing the wall. Ominis' hand came up to meet her center, rubbing wide circles against her lips, finding her soaking wet.

—Perfect, you're perfect.

She cried out as the first licks of his tongue sent shivers down her spine. His tongue was hot and long, long like a snake, thrusting and fucking her from behind, a delicious sensation that could not be imitated by other men. When he licked her clit, her mind went black.

—I want you to cum on my tongue. —Ominis ordered her. —That's the way it's going to be from now on, understand? You're always going to cum first and it's going to be against my mouth.

She moaned as he sucked on her clit, vibrations from her orgasm caused her legs to tremble, shaking her thighs until she spasmed. She cum against his tongue in a wave of convulsions, almost sobbing as his roughness moved to her opening, pushing inside and drinking her nectar. He continued to lick her as the throbbing inside her subsided.

When he finally let her go, she considered that it might not be worth returning to her regular life. Never had her pussy been eaten so pleasurably, never had she been touched like this before. Reaching orgasm from oral sex had long ago been ruled out, but it happened. And maybe, once he'd prepared her and stretched her; once he'd taken his cock completely, she'd never be able to run away from him.

—Please. —she moaned. —Please, please, please… I need your cock so badly.

Her plea broke into a choked cry as the thick head of his cock pressed against her entrance, moving agonizingly slow. She fought against the burning, his fat cock stretching her harder than she had ever been stretched, pressing firmly against her.

—Oh- Ominis… It won't go in, it's too much… Too big….

Little pushes, just enough movement to make her dig her nails into the mattress and stand with her mouth open.

—You're taking it so well, your pussy squeezes me so tight I can only move forward.

—Please, Ominis, I….

—I love to hear you beg, but you don't need to beg for my cock: it's already yours. I'm going to take care of fucking your pussy every day.

—Yes, give it to me. —She gasped, losing herself completely as he began to pump. Slow and deep, deeper than she'd ever been fucked. —Thank you, thank you, this is what I want… Merlin, I love your cock.

The slow penetration wouldn't stop, how much more was left to take, a few more inches? She couldn't take it, she feared if she looked down she would see a bulge protruding from her lower belly. She was full, so full, and shuddered as Ominis finally bottomed out.

As his heavy balls began to slam into her, she came undone.

—I want to feel you cum around my cock. —Ominis said. —I want you to squeeze me until your pussy has the permanent shape of me, because it's the only cock that will make you scream like this.

Ominis' onslaught began to take on a sense of urgency as she babbled like a fool as his cock kissed the most sensitive spots inside her.

—Come inside me. —She sobbed. The dragging of the head of his penis against her G-spot was making her stomach contract. —Please, please, please empty those big balls inside me, I want you to give me every last drop.

As Ominis fingers began stroking circles around her clit, she cummed. Tears ran down her cheeks at how good it was. Thick white spurts enter her abused pussy, filling her completely, some seeping past her clogged hole.

That escape plan can wait.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis x reader

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