#the ugly officer harris | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

summersnow82 · 1 year

Text

Somethin' Bad - Part 15

Author's Note: Hello, my lovelies! I hope you're having a relaxing, slow Thanksgiving Break! Thanks for hanging in here with me.

A big thank you to Tumbler user @jiahn for bringing it to my attention Travis Hackett was originally intended to be a lover of romance novels. I'm totally going to utilize that.

TW: Y'all, I had a hard time writing Constance, especially her interactions with Travis this go. I don't know if it's because I'm a mom, too, or what, but it was a struggle. Limited language, but still may be hard to read for some folks

Part 15

Annabelle had meant what she’d said to Travis: she did have a pot roast ready to go in the oven, and laundry to finish. After all, she was working with a severely limited supply of clothing, and as much fun as raiding Travis’ wardrobe – and his reaction – was she couldn’t quite bring herself to don his briefs. Once the roast was in the oven (she missed cooking!) and the laundry was running (thank God for modern conveniences!) she headed back to his bedroom.

Travis’ headboard was the kind with a built in bookshelf, and he’d utilized every bit of space. More Louis L’Amour coupled with Agatha Christie’s Hercules Poirot novels; Elmore Leonard and a few old Perry Mason paperbacks; a compilation of Flannery O’Conner’s short stories and a Dean Koontz novel that looked untouched. Annabelle took each book out carefully, mindful of the order they’d come in, and unearthed the books behind the ones Travis had on display. He’d pressed them flat against the back of the shelf instead of spine out like the books she’d just removed, as if he were intentionally hiding them from the casual glance.

Again, cautious of the order they were stored in, Annabelle removed them, casting a careful eye to the bedroom door. If Travis caught her now she was sure he’d be irate at best, and furious at worst. He’d hidden these books for a reason, and after glancing at a few of the covers she began to develop a theory as to why.

Beautiful women in billowing dresses with slits up the side, and barely covered, heaving bosoms reclined in the arms of scantily clad, well built men. Annabelle had seen more than her fair share of bodice ripper romances on her college roommate’s desk, but she’d never seen a man reading one. Annabelle grinned at the thought of her surly, brusque sheriff curling up to read about beautiful men and women working through built-up sexual tension, warring personalities, and eventual deep, passionate, forever love.

Travis has a soft side, she thought almost giddily, returning to the other books she’d unearthed. The others had more subdued covers: a handsome cowboy, and a lovely blonde in a high-neck lace dress with her hair piled high; a dark haired World War Two nurse in the arms of a striking sailor; a cute, nerdy guy casting a longing glance at a sexy red-head. Each book was well worn, and upon flipping through each, she noticed someone had dog-eared several pages she assumed were favorite parts; some were red hot, leaving her feeling flushed, while others were tender and sweet.

It was incredibly endearing.

Her investigation led her to several conclusions about her stoic sheriff: He was a covert romantic, he seemed to prefer the forced proximity/ arranged marriage tropes the most, and the historical romances set on the frontier and during World War Two seemed to be his favorite. From what she could gather, most of the heroes were about brooding, silent types who fell for feisty, warm women who often were in need of rescuing – that one hit a bit too close to home, but she tucked that thought away for later. Her last, perhaps most important revelation however, was Travis felt the need to hide these books.

These clearly well-loved, well-read books she imagined brought him great comfort and joy were either an embarrassment to him, or a source of shame. She was still pondering this when a loud banging came from the front door, startling her out of her reverie. Quickly and efficiently, Annabelle slid each book back in the exact spot she’d found it while the pounding on the door grew in intensity.

In her experience, there were two types of people who wailed on a door like this: someone in great fear with desperate need, or someone with ill intent. Annabelle was weighing her options when a woman’s shriek came from the opposite side of the door, and while her words were slightly muffled, her intentions became alarmingly clear. Annabelle’s skin goose-pimpled, and the hair on her arms raised as she considered her options: hide, arm herself with whatever she could find, or swing the door open and confront this threat head on. Annabelle, while impulsive, wasn’t a fool – there was no way she was going to that door unarmed.

“I know you’re in there, you little whore! Open up, or I swear I’ll break this door down.”

Annabelle didn’t know many people in North Kill, but from what she did know she’d hazard a guess Travis’ mama, Sean’s ex-judge, jury, and jailer, was the lunatic on the other side of the door. This knowledge and the woman’s screaming threat caused an odd calm to settle over Annabelle. It was the kind of calm someone gets when they’ve encountered enough aggression, hostility, and violence in their lifetime such things become disturbingly normal. Annabelle had faced her fair share of monsters, both human and supernatural, and the shrieking woman on the other side of the door ranked as more of a nuisance than an actual threat now that Annabelle’s fight response was kicking in. A wicked half grin slid over her features as she braced herself for the coming battle.

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

Normally, when a prisoner showered in the North Kill station an officer stood vigilante while maintaining a respectful distance for optimum privacy and security. Travis’ standards had relaxed dramatically with his current “prisoner.” Half the time Sean seemed oblivious to his presence, rubbing a hand over his face, and staring off into space with a pensive expression; the rest of the time he was remarkably respectful and genuinely friendly. He’d ask Travis about his tastes in food, music, and literature with honest curiosity, and could hold a thoughtful, meaningful conversation while making Travis feel important and valued.

It was the weirdest freaking thing Travis had ever experienced, and he hunted werewolves.

Sean was currently enthralled in a description of time travel, alternating theories, his current hypothesis, and the data he’d collected thus far with all of his “down time,” as he called it. Travis was sitting on a bench, head in his hands, bored out of his mind; Annabelle was right, it did give him a headache.

So when his cell phone went off he had to stifle every urge inside him to shout hallelujah for an excuse to step out of the room. “Yes, Mrs. Thatcher? Everything all right?” Emily Thatcher was his elderly neighbor, a widow with three grown children spread out over the country, a bonafide gossip, and the winner of the church pound cake competition every year since 1972. A phone call from her wasn’t unusual, but the timbre her voice currently held sure was.

“Oh, honey, you need to come home right now. Your mother - .” He didn’t hear anything else after that, and he didn’t need to.

Your mother.

Travis felt chilled and nauseous imagining his mother within twenty feet of Annabelle. His Annabelle. His. She’ll kill her, he thought in a panic, breaking into a run for his cruiser. She’ll kill her the way she killed… he pushed the thought from his head. He had to focus and get home; he could recount his mother’s sins another time, but right now keeping Annabelle safe was all that mattered.

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

It was worse than he’d anticipated when Travis got home. His father’s old pickup was parked in his front lawn – his lawn, not his driveway – and his mother was banging on the front door so hard he was surprised it hadn’t caved in. His father and Bobby stood off to the side like glorified lackeys, and if they hadn’t been men he deeply loved and respected he would’ve hated them for just fueling his mother’s insanity.

“Open up, you little bitch, or I swear I’ll burn this shack to the ground.”

Travis felt another piece of him break because he knew his mother meant it – she would burn his house down – hell, she’d burn the whole town down if it meant keeping him to herself. Because “family was the most important thing in the world.”

It was suffocating, exhausting, and spirit-breaking.

Travis stepped out of his car to face his raging mother when the front door swung wide open. Annabelle’s eyes narrowed as she levied the double barrel shotgun at the smaller woman. “I don’t know who you are, lady, but take your crazy back where you came from before I give the lawn a paint job.”

Travis froze. There was no hesitation or fear in Annabelle’s demeanor; gone was his feisty songbird, and in her place stood a fierce, take-no-prisoners warrior who would pull the trigger if given a reason.

Maybe, just maybe she’d been telling him the truth about herself all this time.

“You lower that gun, little miss,” his father called out, seemingly unbothered by her threat. “You’re on Hackett property.”

Annabelle didn’t move, and her resolve didn’t break. Instead, a slow, menacing smile slid over her pretty features. Oh, shit.

“Ma,” Travis called, and he was thankful his voice remained steady – the rest of him certainly didn’t feel it. All eyes turned to him, except Annabelle’s – hers stayed right on Constance. His father looked irritated, Bobby looked confused and a bit sad, but his mother looked unhinged. The slew of expletives she began to spit at him were nothing new, but it was the first time she’d christened his home with such colorful language.

“How dare you… we’re toiling away, and you’re living it up with this Twinkie… after all the sacrifices we made for you… ungrateful, good for nothing…”

He’d heard it all before; memorized it line and verse. Travis could recite every ill thought his mother had ever spewed his way so well it was the voice he heard when he closed his eyes at night. He had never been good enough, never would be good enough for her, and his father, for whatever reason, stood there and let her say it.

Like he approved. Like he agreed. Travis couldn’t decide which was worse – her abuse or his silence.

Bobby… well, he couldn’t much fault Bobby. He was the favored child before his accident in Afghanistan; loved by everyone, Bobby was the quarterback in high school with his sights set on playing in college, and then maybe the NFL. He had the talent, the drive, the build, and the support of his family to pursue it, and the encouragement from every doe-eyed teenage girl and aging football enthusiast. Robert Hackett was going to put North Kill on the map with his talent.

Bobby had something else, though: deep admiration and respect for his oldest brother. From the moment he could walk, Bobby was constantly at Travis’ side aching for any attention or affection his hero would offer him. When Travis graduated high school he enlisted in the Army – an outright act of defiance towards his mother. He returned home out of guilt and obligation, joining the police force because it suited his skill set better than anything else North Kill had to offer. He knew his brothers were proud of him, but he had no idea Bobby was rethinking his future plans, viewing Travis’ route as one of honor and self-sacrifice.

Their mother went ballistic when Bobby announced he’d enlisted “just like Travis.” He was going to make a difference “just like Travis.” He’d make them proud “just like Travis.” So when Bobby’s unit was hit with a roadside bomb and Bobby came home forever changed… well, Constance knew exactly where to point her finger and lash her blame.

“Are you listening to me, Travis Hackett? I am speaking to you.”

“More like screaming,” Annabelle said, and their words brought Travis back to the drama unfolding on his front lawn. His mother turned her eyes back to Annabelle, launching into another display of her disapproval.

Travis didn’t have many boundaries with his family – they tended to bulldoze right through them – but he was thankful now he’d never given them a key to his home. He cringed internally at the idea of Constance walking in and catching Annabelle unaware.

Just a few hours ago he’d left her with a tender kiss goodbye, and now she was pointing a gun at his mother. Something about the odd combination made his affection for her grow. His mother spat another vile sentiment his way again, but he didn’t hear it as he moved past the men in his family, his dark eyes set intently on the brunette.

“Are you all right?” He asked softly, sliding a hand around her waist and pressing his cheek to hers so only she could hear him. She made an affirming noise with a slight nod, but the gun remained poised at his mother.

His mother. His mother who was angry and stupid enough she might actually try to wrangle it away from Annabelle if he didn’t resolve this quickly. Constance may have broken his heart more times than he could count, but he didn’t want to see her hurt.

“Lower the gun.” He said, but she didn’t move. He repeated his words again more firmly this time. “Lower the gun.” Still nothing. Travis felt his frustration shift to the stubborn brunette. “Belle,” he said softly, raising a hand to the gun’s barrel, testing Annabelle’s resolve as he pressed down gently.

She tensed at his use of her nickname – he’d never said it before. “If she charges me I’m taking her down,” Annabelle promised. Loud enough for Constance to hear her, as if she was issuing a warning. The older woman had the nerve to smirk in response. The warning suddenly felt like she’d thrown down a gauntlet. Travis sighed. “We will discuss this later, Sheriff,” Annabelle assured him, finally turning her dark eyes his way as the gun barrel lowered.

“I promise.” She hesitated, finally relinquishing her hold on the shotgun, and casting a withering glare in his mother’s direction.

Constance looked like the cat who ate the canary as she grinned up at Annabelle. “Good boy, Travis. Now, get this hussy’s things, and Bobby and Pa will take her to the bus station while we have a nice chat.” Constance’s voice held a victory tune, but Travis wasn’t quite willing to concede. Not yet.

“Ma,” he began.

“Now, Travis. You’ve given your neighbors enough to discuss.” Her voice was saccharine sweet, but her words stung. He’d given?

“An… Alice is staying, Ma,” he said, stumbling to remember Annabelle’s alias. His mother would read it as weakness, which he supposed was better than telling her the truth.

“No, Travis.” Constance shook her head. “You’ve had your fun. Now be a good boy, and,” she cut her eyes to Annabelle, “take out the trash.”

To her credit, Annabelle didn’t seem bothered by Constance’s name calling, but a brow was raised as she cocked her head to the side, eyeing the older woman as if she was studying her for vulnerabilities. Travis closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. This all felt too familiar, too painful. “C’mon, little miss,” Jedediah called from where he stood looking deeply bored. “Travis can send you your things, but we’ve got things to do.”

No one expected Annabelle to laugh, and the whole Hackett clan reeled as if she’d slapped them. “Y’all are a real piece of work, you know that?” She asked, chuckling and shaking her head. “I mean, wow. Just wow. You come here with a whole new level of crazy, order your grown son to send me packing, and expect me to actually get in a car with two men I don’t know? The audacity.” She laughed again.

Jedediah frowned, glaring at Travis as if he’d somehow spoken through Annabelle. “You will get in this car, missy, and you will not speak to my wife like that again.”

Annabelle’s smile dropped. “It will be a cold day in hell before I go anywhere with you,” she declared. “And I will speak to ‘your wife’ however I deem fit after her ludicrous display just now.”

“Wow,” Bobby piped in with genuine disbelief. “She sure knows a lot of words, Travis.” He turned to his dad. “I don’t think she wants to come with us, Pa.”

“No, Bobby, she doesn’t,” Travis said, meeting his brother’s eyes. Even now he still looked at Travis with something akin to awe. He turned back to his mother to see her eyes firmly locked on Annabelle, like a snake planning to strike.

“Now you listen to me, you ugly little slut,” Constance sneered, thrusting a finger in Annabelle’s direction. “You get into that damn truck right now, or my Bobby will drag you by the hair all the way to the state line.”

“Ma, stop it.” It was meant as a warning, but Travis was afraid it sounded like a plea.

Annabelle cocked her head to the side, and pursed her lips like she was considering the offer. “Bobby’ll do it because…,” she trailed off, flashing Constance a grin. “Because you can’t?”

Travis groaned. Bait, set, trap. He saw his mother lunge forward, a primal scream erupting from her throat as she launched herself at the taller brunette. Annabelle’s body tensed, ready to fight, but before she could do anything Travis was in front of her, arms spread as he blocked his mother. The loud crack of Constance’s hand rang out, and he heard Annabelle gasp behind him in surprise as he took the slap intended for her. Neither woman had expected his interference, and for a moment everything was still.

Travis met his mother’s gaze, stars still spinning around his head. He searched her face as she looked back at him, her features devoid of shock or repentance – all she had for him was fury. Cold, hard, bitter fury; it was the same look she’d given him as a child before each beating, and he didn’t have to guess what was coming next.

12 notes · View notes

sitp-recs · 11 days

Note

hi liv! do you know of any draco-centered longish fics??? thanks! i just love him so much

Hi anon, definitely! Here are my favourites:

Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 47k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.”

“What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (T, 59k)

The Trouble with Wanting by waldorph (E, 60k)

Draco Malfoy is cleared of all charges; this is what happens next.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

Every day, Draco Malfoy tries. With every fiber of his being he tries. But he doesn’t much think about what he’s trying for. In his final term of Healer training, Draco is unfortunate enough to find himself on a plane, the only means of traveling to a small, magical town in rural Alaska.

Super Rich Kids by @thusspoketrish (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (M, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (M, 131k)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

There Is Always the Moon by @firethesound (T, 159k)

Draco's life after the war is everything he wanted it to be: it's simple, and quiet, and predictable, and safe. But when a mysterious curse shatters the peace he'd worked so hard to build, there's only one person he can trust to help him. After all, Harry Potter has saved his life before. Now Draco has to believe that Potter will be able to do it one more time.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #long Draco-centered fics

121 notes · View notes

lyrablack1883 · 6 months

Text

“Of memory long lost forgotten”

Memory is a fickle thing, especially children’s memory. It’s not certain at what point, your mind started to record your life. when Harry started to dream of a gentle humming and a familiar figure, he thought it was merely his imagination. Until the dream becomes more vivid each day.

When the wand’s tip touched his forehead, he managed to extract it. It was actually a memory long lost buried. He drop the silver strand to a pensive in his office, and plunged his head in it.

The memory begin, at first he couldn’t see anything, then a gentle humming surrounded the space, and in front of him he could see a figure, it was his mother, young and alive just like the one he saw that day in the mirror.

“Mum?” He whisper. The figure didn’t move and continue to hum the same song.

The baby in her arm opened his eyes. Harry saw himself, this version of him didn’t have the ugly lightning scar that marred his face. Harry step closer and watch his mother cradled him so softly. The image burned into his eyes and he struggled to keep his breathing even.

Despite this, he continue to watch this version of himself along with his mother closely. ‘We do have the same eyes’, Harry thought. The same shade of forest green. All his life he would hear the same phrase, and years seeing it through the mirror, photographs and ghost, he knows it’s a fact. but to see it in real person side by side, it filled his chest with warmth.

He watched the memory played out, and his mother softly caressed his cheek. She seemed to be saying something, but the memory didn’t catch it. Harry strained his ears and watch her mother’s mouth, trying to decipher her words.

But then he heard her laugh. For a second his thought was filled, about the fact that most of his youth, he was haunted by her scream and now he get to hear this. The tears he held back, streamed freely falling into the memory. He was reminded again that-

He was loved

He was loved. And he no one is going to take it away again from him. He doesn’t want to forget this.

The memory is going to end, the space began to disintegrate. The last thing Harry saw was of his mother holding tightly to his little frame.

Just like she did that night, when the morning never came.

(Just little drabbles to accompany these illustration I made) (felt free to expand or write this ahaha, I ran out of words, I can’t convey my thought articulately most of the time)

#harry potter #lily evans #october 31 #marauders #microfic #illustration

183 notes · View notes

imasinnerimsorry · 11 months

Text

Substitute Pleaser

A story where Harry Styles is the substitute professor, and one of his students (Natasha, black, she/her) wants her grade fixed. Harry tries to find ways to help, and soon offers her a “request”.

SMUT; Kinks include: TeacherxStudent trope (college setting btw), shoe riding, deepthroating, facefucking, hair pulling, creampie, spitting, choking, degradation, some praise if you squint

It’s almost the end of the semester and Natasha was tired. Very, very tired. She was in one of the best universities in the country studying to be a physical therapist. Now in her third year, the work had gotten so much more strenuous, often leaving Natasha to study for hours with no end. All she needed was a break, but she’s never had the time to.

All of her professors this semester were pains in the ass. Their grading systems were fucked, and it seemed like they were always out for her- like they wanted her to fail. Maybe that wasn’t true, she’ll admit, but that’s just how she felt.

It was time for her English class, and Natasha was furious. She hated that old bastard of a teacher, Mr. Carson, so much. He gave her a 63% on her last English paper, which was worth 35% of her grade, resulting in her average dropping tremendously. She was definitely not a bad student; she’s always had straight A’s and a couple of B’s, so this poorly-graded assignment was definitely unexpected. She planned on seeing him for office hours right after class to question him about her poor grade.

Natasha walked into that horrible classroom, expecting to see that gross man with the crusty-looking beard sat at the front desk by the whiteboard. Instead, she noticed a sexy man with healthy chocolate brown hair, a jawline as sharp as a knife, and beautiful fingers which were adorned with the finest rings, a unique one dedicated to each finger (except his left ring finger, which was a great sign for Natasha).

Yes, he was cute, but who was he? Natasha questioned herself. Because he sure wasn’t Mr. Carson’s ugly, old ass. He couldn’t be a professor, could he?

She sat down at her seat, making sure her posture was proper and that her appearance was up to par with the sexy man at the teacher’s desk. Using her hands, she brushed her hair to the front, making sure they cascaded down past her shoulders reaching her breasts, but also making sure they didn’t cover her cleavage (She thanked God she wore a push-up bra).

The young man finally stood up from the professor’s seat and walked to the front of it, leaning himself against it. He quickly scanned the classroom before his eyes landed on her.

A beautiful young woman, appearing not much younger than him, was sitting in the second row of the lecture room. He noticed her hair, an ashy blonde color, contrasting her beautifully moisturized brown skin. She had a cute button nose, round brown eyes, and her lips shined with lip gloss of a pink tint and glitter. His eyes glanced down at her obvious cleavage, but he quickly looked away, as not to seem invasive or crude. He hoped she hadn’t noticed.

He didn’t know, however, that Natasha did indeed notice. She couldn’t help but to look down and blush.

"Good evening, class,” the man started. “I am your substitute professor, Harry Styles, but you’ll call me Mr. Styles for the rest of our lectures together. As you all might know from your emails, your usual professor Mr. Carson has recently lost his wife and has followed his family to his native country Germany, which is where he will be spending the rest of the semester to grieve and mourn with the rest of the family. Make sure you send all the love and prayers to Mr. Carson in any way you can at some point.”

Natasha didn’t check her email recently. Oops.

Mr. Styles continued, “So, we will pick up from where he left off. My office hours will remain the same as Mr. Carson’s and in the same room. If you have any questions or concerns, or if you just want to have a chat, come down to Carson’s office, now mine. I’m all ears!” He gave the class a kind grin, one that Natasha was smitten with. His dimples were perfectly carved into his already sexy face.

As the lesson began, Natasha’s best friend Andrew turned to her from the table to her right and said, “Hopefully he’s not as boring as Mr. Carson,” to which the two students laughed amongst themselves.

Until Harry noticed and caught their attention by clearing his throat.

“You know,” he began, “Just because I’m a substitute, it doesn’t mean that the rules have changed. Pay attention and don’t speak, unless you have something to share with the entire class.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and fixed himself to face Mr. Styles. Natasha closed her legs and faced Mr. Styles with her head looking down to her lap. Yes, that got her a bit... aroused.

And Mr. Styles noticed. He turned back to the smartboard to hide the cheeky smirk that formed on his lips.

The class continued with its lesson for about an hour an a half, which meant an hour and a half of Natasha fixing her appearance, making her cleavage more noticeable, taking off her blazer and putting it back on, fidgeting and changing her seating positions, all to make Mr. Styles notice her.

And Mr. Styles noticed. Every time he would hear the creak of a chair or the shuffle of someone’s body, he would know it was that beautiful girl he had his eyes on from the beginning.

***

It was the end of the lecture, and the impatient half of the class who literally couldn’t care less about the topics discussed had ran out of the classroom. The few students who cared about their grades and about learning or understanding the class material had stayed back to ask Mr. Styles questions. And Natasha was one of that few.

Natasha waited until she was the last person in the room to ask Mr. Styles about her grade. She usually did this with every class so that she didn’t have to rush herself to make room for other waiting students. She wanted all the time for herself and her teacher so that she could truly understand the subject. And she definitely wanted some time to herself with this sexy professor.

“You can come over here now, sweetheart,” Mr. Styles said from his desk.

That “sweetheart” almost made Natasha fall to her knees, but she maintained her composure. Of course, he would call me something so endearing, Natasha deciphered to herself to keep the dirty thoughts from overwhelming her mind.

Harry looked down at his class seating chart. “Hm, Natasha, right?”

She nodded.

He looked up at her. “Hello, sweetheart, how are you?” he inquired. The look on his face seemed sincere, but Natasha could feel an aura lurking underneath that sincerity. Frustration? Desire? Lust?

She finally answered, “I’m doing alright, sir. And you?” She gulped.

Harry smirked. “I’m doing alright as well. So, what seems to be the case?” He looked down and searched through student profile sheets until he found hers. His eyebrows narrowed as he looked at her grade, and then he looked back at her a bit puzzled. “It says here on your profile that you’re quite the smart cookie. An A-... that’s high compared to many of the other students! What could be the issue, love?”

Natasha blushed at his compliment toward her grade. “Thank you so much, sir. But, yes, I do have an issue regarding my last essay.” She placed the papers she brought with her onto the desk and set them neatly in front of him. She then pointed at the circled 63% sitting at the top of the page. “I’m confused about the grade I received. I don’t know what could have made it so poor.”

Harry screwed his eyebrows as he scanned through the pages of her essay. Even without reading in depth, he could tell it was a well-written paper (at least better than a majority of the class). “I understand your concern. All of your research papers so far have been nothing less than a B, so I know you expected so much from this one. Unfortunately, I was not the person who marked your paper, so I technically cannot change your grade for it.”

Harry could see Natasha’s face change from a bright glow to a duller undertone. He felt really sorry for the girl. He really wished he could help her out. But, as he said, there was nothing he technically could do.

“A-Are you sure, Mr. Styles?” She asked with struggle. “I mean, I understand that Mr. Carson was the one who graded it, but surely you could reread it and give your own input?” Harry’s face remained the same. “Maybe you could send your review to the board and have them override Mr. Carson’s since he won’t be attending for the rest of the semester?”

Again, Harry’s face showed no signs of a change in his decision. “I’m really sorry, love.”

Natasha’s eyes started to well up with tears, and Harry noticed. He really did not want to see this beautiful girl cry in front of her. It was devastating. He leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms into a pensive position to think about how he could help her. Then, he smirked as a thought, a rather promiscuous one, popped up in his mind.

“Well, Natasha, you’re a smart girl, right?”

She didn’t know where this random question came from, so she just nodded her head to hear him continue his thoughts.

“I told you that I technically can’t do anything about your grade,” he turned his body around to face Natasha, his knees accidentally brushing against hers as he looked into her eyes, “But, let’s forget about all of the technicalities for a minute, yeah?”

Natasha looked down into her lap as she noticed his eyes trying to meet hers. This man really made her nervous. Was she intimidated by him? Afraid? Aroused? All of the above, maybe? Her thoughts were cut off abruptly as Harry lifted her chin up with his index finger so her eyes could meet his gaze.

“I’m sure we could be a bit more informal now. I mean, after all, that’s what you have been doing this entire lecture,” he gave her a sly grin.

The woman’s face warmed as her head flashed back to her behavior during the lecture. It was truly out of order, but she couldn’t let him know that she was aware of this. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Styles?”

Harry chuckled and leaned his arm against the desk, putting his face in his hand as he observed her body language. “Oh, you mean to tell me that all of that fidgeting and movement you were doing back there in your seat was just that? It was just “fidgeting and movement” ? Or were you trying to gather my attention, Ms. Natasha?”

She could not believe what he was saying. Not only because it was totally out of his code of conduct as a professor, but also because he figured her out completely. Natasha couldn’t help but to close her legs and cross her arms around her chest, covering herself with her cardigan. She wasn’t uncomfortable, just a bit too aroused and did not want Mr. Styles to delve into her body language even deeper.

But Harry noticed this, and placed his hands on her shoulders, giving them a light massage. “Oh dear. Are you feeling uncomfortable now?” He ultimately didn’t want her to feel unsafe with him, despite the arousing conversation they were having at the moment. To his surprise yet relief, she shook her head no.

“Well, that’s just great, dear,” he sighed in relief. “Listen, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, so if you decline my following request, I would respect it. Would you like to hear this request, sweet girl?”

She nodded.

“I’ve mentioned the technicalities of the situation. However, if you were to do me some favors, then I will present your paper to the board to have them change your grade.” Harry brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “I want you to make me feel good.”

Natasha’s heart skipped a beat. As Harry moved himself from her ear, he stared into her widened eyes with a little grin. She felt as if she was dreaming.

Harry chuckled and laid back onto his chair, his head landing onto his hands with his arms now raised behind his head in a relaxed position. It was almost as if he was showing that he was open to whatever she wanted to do to him. Like a dog laying its belly up to show its trust to its owner. “Would you like to make me feel good, Natasha?”

Natasha hesitated, of course. Her professor was insinuating for her to have sex with him so that her grade could rise. It was the typical teacher/student trope she would read about in her erotica. It was just too…favorable for her.

And yet, she nodded in response.

Harry stood up from his seat, Natasha’s eyes trailing up his body as he did so. He looked down at her with a smirk on his face and slid his hand through her hair. He simply uttered a “Good girl” from his mouth, but Natasha could have died there and then from those two words.

Harry took his time to undo his pants’ zipper and stared at Natasha while doing so. He pulled his pants down just a bit to reveal a sight Natasha was not prepared for. His briefs sat tightly fitted against his bulge, which looked hard through the thin material. Natasha’s mouth began to salivate out of her control. She absolutely wasn’t prepared for this.

The substitute finally drew his underwear down to meet his pants, and that was the pièce de résistance. His cock shone brightly under the lights of the classroom. The tip had a slight tinge of pink, mimicking the hue of his lips, and was leaking with precum. His shaft was riddled with vessels that were surely pumping with lots of blood by the look of how hard and heavy his cock was. Natasha had never seen anything like it. Not even her previous boyfriends have had dicks as gorgeous and delicious-looking as her substitute professor’s. Harry couldn’t hold back the teeth-baring, obviously egoistic grin that he was trying to hide as he noticed the girl admiring his prick. It boosted his ego whenever his penis, or any part of his body as a matter of fact, was looked at like a prize that his partners had won; their own little trophy that they deserved if they had won Harry’s affection. He put his cock up near her cheek and held it there, imagining what would happen if he put himself far into her mouth. His tip reached the back of her jaw. Perfect.

Harry finally spoke up after a beat of silence. “Now, listen to me carefully. When I put myself in your mouth, I want you to ride my shoe like a good girl. Do you get what I mean?” It could be viewed as a strange request to others, but Harry loved to see his partners look desperate on their knees for him. Riding themselves on his shoe, looking up at him with wide doe-eyes that were stained with tears, their cheeks hinted with blush as they held his cock down their throats. What a sight, indeed.

Meanwhile, Natasha stared up at the man in shock. She had only heard about people doing such things like “riding a shoe” in the erotica she’d read and the movies she watched. To hear someone say it to her out loud in person- no, to hear someone command her to do something like this in person- was something shocking, yet appealing. And she was more than willing to do that at this moment. She nodded her head as Harry stroked her jaw with his thumb.

Harry smiled. “What a good girl.” The tip of his cock, now a darker shade of pink due to its desperation for release, was shoved between the young woman’s lips. Harry winced at the beautiful feeling he had longed for this whole time. “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, “What a good girl, indeed.”

Natasha moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his cock being placed into her mouth. The stretch it gave to her mouth was something indescribable. She wanted to feel it even deeper into her throat. The salty taste of the man’s precum was purely divine to her. She couldn’t wait to experience the flavor of his semen. Her tongue moved to the underside of his cock, and she could feel every vein and vessel, every tissue of his skin, every inch of his manhood. It was something she had experienced before in previous relationships, but it was never this good. Mr. Styles was just something else.

Remembering his orders, the young woman managed to spread her legs and place her cunt onto his shoe. Although still covered with her panties, the sensation still sent shockwaves through her spine. Natasha started to make small, slow rotary motions on the top of Harry’s shoe, which caused her to let out little, muffled moans from her cock-filled mouth.

The feeling of Natasha’s moans around his tip caused Harry to buck his hips forward in pleasure. Natasha gagged a bit as his cock touched her uvula, but the feeling didn’t last long as Harry pulled back as soon as he heard her cough. “Your lips feel so plush around me, love. Sorry for that,” he apologized while giving her lips some taps with his cock. Even that felt good for Harry. But then he continued, “But I’m sure you liked that, huh? You liked feeling my cock go so far back your throat, yeah?” Natasha nodded and her mouth seemed to salivate even more at the mere thought of his cock going deeper. He put himself right back into her mouth and angled his abdomen in a way where he could go as far back as he could, but right before her uvula so she wouldn’t gag prematurely. He wanted her to feel every thrust so that she could gag around him at the perfect moments.

Harry started to thrust in a bit slower than he preferred, but he wanted to get the girl used to his movements before he went wild. He could feel his tip glide against her uvula as he hit the back of the throat near her epiglottis, which spasmed at the touch and made her gag. He noticed Natasha’s eyes and mouth start to water as she held her mouth open for him. Her pussy was still riding against his shoe, and he decided to fuck with her a bit to make the situation more… thrilling.

Natasha could feel as Harry’s shoe started to rub up and down against her pussy. He was tapping his foot as if he was listening to one of his favorite songs. And he pretty much was- the song of cunnilingus sung by a pretty girl submitting beneath him is what motivated him. Natasha started to moan a bit more heavily as he continued the motions of both his foot and his cock. She stared at him as the man thrusted into her mouth with more vigor, the tip of his cock constantly hitting against her epiglottis, causing her to gag each time. She was in pure bliss.

Harry’s moans started to get louder as well, turning almost animalistic. He huffed as he felt the back of her throat spasm around his cock. “Yes, princess,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. Suddenly, he grabbed the back of Natasha’s head and pressed himself down so far back into her esophagus. He was curious how she would feel if she took all of him. Natasha’s nose managed to touch his pubic hair with how far he had gone. Her mouth started to drool with more saliva as she tried to maintain herself around his cock. Harry could feel her choke around him, but he didn’t care. He started to thrust himself into her mouth at this angle, and it felt absolutely heavenly. Her mouth was like a vice to him, and the squelching sounds emitting from her gagging throat were literal music to his ears.

He continued his thrusts for about a minute or so before Natasha started to slap her hand on his thigh for him to stop. Harry obliged, not wanting to suffocate her, and released her from his grasp.

Once he pulled her off of him, Harry noticed her hips atop his shoe- they weren’t moving. He gave her a light slap across her face and grabbed her jaw to look up at him. “Did I tell you to fuckin’ stop riding me?” Natasha managed to look at him through teary eyes. “N-no,” was all she could answer.

Harry lifted his eyebrows in a mocking way, almost as if to say, “Well, what do you think you should do?”, and Natasha immediately picked up on it. She started to move her pussy on his foot again, this time with more intensity. She moaned and kept her eyes on him, which he loved.

“Yeah, there you go, bunny. Ride my shoe like a fuckin’ slut.” He stared down into her doe-eyes which were tinged with tears from her previous gagging session. “Feels good, yeah?’ Natasha could only moan in response as she continued dragging her cunt against his shoe.

“Well, you look fuckin’ pathetic,” he spat. In normal situations, this would have made Natasha try to run away from him. Being called “pathetic” and a “fuckin’ slut” was humiliating, but she liked it. She liked hearing those degrading words come from her substitute professor’s mouth. Oh, the woman was so far gone.

After a few more rotations of her hips on top of his shoe, Harry patted her head. “Alright, bunny, off. I’m sure that got you wet enough, right?” She nodded. “Good girl.” Harry helped her up with a bit of a tight grip to her forearm. It was unintentional; he would never want to hurt her, but he was growing more aroused by every second that passed. He could only hold off an orgasm for a little longer, and he didn’t want to cum without feeling the beautiful girl in front of him wrapped around his cock first. ‘ Harry leaned Natasha against his desk rather abruptly, causing the content sitting atop of the surface to shuffle and even fall with the impact. Natasha’s breasts and the side of her face were placed onto the cold surface of the wooden desk, and her ass was held up by her two feet planted onto the ground to make herself more comfortable in this position. She loved doggystyle, but never did it on top of a table.

Harry stood behind her, his hands gripping her hips with a force tight enough to make indented marks in her skin. “Make sure you stay quiet f’me, alright bunny?” Natasha nodded with a quickness, her anticipation for feeling his cock inside of her clouding her mind.

Harry finally brought his cock into her cunt, making the two of them wince at the feeling. The stretch that his girth gave her walls was delicious. It felt as if he was ripping her in two, but she absolutely loved it. “Thank you, professor,” she moaned as he went further into her vagina. Harry grinned. “Well, you’re a polite thing, aren’t you?,” He asked as he began his thrusts slowly. “Saying thank you without me telling you to. What a good girl.” Natasha moaned at the praise and it was music to Harry’s ears. And he wanted that song to continue playing. So, he continued his thrusts, speeding up a bit as he felt her walls get used to his length.

At one moment, Harry hit a particularly deep spot that made Natasha let out the loudest moan (or loudest sound generally) that she ever let out in her life. It was so pornographic, so disgusting, but something Harry didn’t want to risk his career for.

Harry quickly covered her mouth with his palm and brought his other hand to pull at her hair, making her body lift from the table and hit his own. Her head hit his shoulder, which allowed his lips to travel to her ear, and he questioned, “You want your grade to go up, don’t you?” Natasha strained her neck as she tried to look into his eyes and nodded, a soft whimper escaping her lips. “Well, keep it fuckin’ quiet so no one walks in here and catches us, whore,” he spat at her, still thrusting into her pussy while pulling her hair back with more force.

After a couple more thrusts, Harry then brought the hand pulling her hair right down to her pussy, trying to find its way to her pretty little clit. Once he recognized the feeling, his index and middle finger began to rub themselves on her clitoris at a good-enough pace to prolong the process of orgasm, but not to make it come quickly. The hand that covered her mouth to hush her made its way down to her throat and gave her a tight squeeze that constricted her blood vessels, giving her the sensation of him choking her. Harry tilted her head up against his chest and he took a look down at Natasha’s face. “Oh, you’re enjoying this,” he teased Natasha, and she responded with a strained and quiet, “yes”. He straightened her head to allow himself to put his lips against the helix of her ear, nipping and licking against the skin as his thrusts got deeper with faster strokes.

His lips, still against her ear nipping and licking, stopped to utter a statement. “Look at you, a little braindead slut. This dick’s too fucking good for you, huh? It’s all you’ve ever wanted, right?” He paused to bring his hand that was choking her neck down to her left breast, and his fingers entwined with her nipple to play with it, bringing a whole new sensation for the girl against him. “You’re such a whore that you were willing to fuck your substitute teacher for a better grade.” He took a quick pause with his words to lick against her earlobe for a quick second, his tongue missing the flavor of her warm skin. Then Harry continued, “You’re a smart girl- a very, very smart girl, bunny. Your grades speak for themselves.” His fingers continued to play with her nipple and her clit, his thrusts only increasing in pace. “But what you’re doing right now- your body melting away at your professor's touch on his desk- now, that’s a bit stupid, isn’t it, love?” His fingers continued to tug at her nipple, and all Natasha could do was let out a needy whimper. “Risking your academic life- your career- just for some cock?” Another whimper.

As Harry continued his rough thrusts into her increasingly sopping pussy, Natasha drooled. It was like her entire body lost itself and gave Harry all of the control. He could touch her, move her anywhere, and play with her any way he wished, and she would have obliged. Her brain seemed to be void of any thought, only awaiting for more commands and words of defamation given by her substitute professor. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

The man halted his hips for a moment and grabbed onto Natasha’s thighs, managing to lift her up with her legs spread and pussy still wrapped around his cock. Natasha let out a gasp and a moan, but covered her own mouth as she realized how loud she was. Harry started to lift her up and down on his cock, which gave Natasha a new sensation she had never felt before. She could feel this man’s cock so deep inside of her, like it was constantly poking the lower portion of her belly and she couldn’t help but moan into her hand.

Harry kissed her neck and continued to bless Natasha with deep, yet long strokes of himself. This was one of his favorite positions, and hearing this beautiful woman, his literal student, struggle to moan while receiving him made him feel like the best man on Earth. He hummed into her shoulder as he continued to slowly lift her up and down for a few more strokes.

Wanting to see her face after realizing they’ve only been in positions where he could only view the back of her neck, he lifted her up as high as he could and turned her around to face him. Bringing her down to face level, he noticed her eyes welled with tears, both dry (from her deepthroating him) and wet (from their actual intercourse), and saw drool dripping from her mouth, sliding down her chin and dropping onto her gorgeous chest. Her makeup was messy and runny, and her hair was disheveled. Harry wished he could snap a photo of her. “Oh, pretty girl, you’re stunning. Have to make you cum now. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” He was insistent on making her orgasm, not only to see her face, but also because he was in a rush and did not want anyone to notice their little session.

Harry lowered Natasha back onto his dick with ease; it was wet enough with all of the cream that her cunt was pouring onto him previously. Natasha immediately clenched around him as she felt him enter her. He lifted her up again, removing himself from her and watched as her face contorted and her pussy clenched around nothing. “Professor, please,” she whimpered. She knew he was getting a kick out of watching her beg. He repeated the motion a couple more times though, only putting himself inside halfway then lifting her back up off of him, just to tease her and watch her struggle. “Professor, please, please, please!” She whined out.

Harry let out a laugh and finally brought the girl back down, really, really deep this time. He started to fuck into her wet cunt, and the noises in the room reminded him of a porno. Her cunt clamped around his cock so hard as his pelvis banged against her entire vulva. He knew her clit was enjoying the impact of his pubic bone as he saw her face contort in ways that only made him fuck her harder.

As Natasha neared her orgasm, she tightened her entire body around her professor even more. Her arms and hands dug into his back and shoulders, but Harry didn’t mind. Harry nudged at her nose with his own with the intention of her looking into his eyes. She obliged and her pupils met his own.”You’re doing so well for me, honey,” he stated, his thrusts still going at a fast pace. Natasha whined and gave him a quick, yet sloppy kiss. Her cunt tightened. “My belly..,” she whined into his ear as her chin rested against his shoulder. Harry cooed into her ear, “Your belly? You feel me in your belly?” He could feel the girl nod against his shoulder. “Yeah, you feel warm? Gonna cum for me, love? You’re creaming all over my cock.” She nodded again and gave him a cute “Mhm,” before Harry went even harder, not even caring about how loud their skin was slapping anymore; he wanted this girl to spill all around him, more than the cream she was already creating on his shaft, and he wanted to watch how her body reacted to an orgasm.

And that is exactly what happened.

Her orgasm finally came, and he slowed his thrusts to help her through it and to watch her unravel around him. Her body became limp in his hold as her cunt spasmed around him, and her face was screwed in such a pleasurable way that showed how relieving her release was. Her toes were curled and her clit was visibly throbbing from the impact it was receiving. Harry was lucky to see this happen in front of his own eyes.

The spasms of her walls milked Harry of his own orgasm. He stopped his thrusts and spurted all of his semen into her, and Natasha could see the veins of his cock throb as he spilled into her. The feeling of his cum painting her from the inside was amazing, and she wished he could just stay inside her for the rest of the afternoon. But, Harry finally pulled out of her, and his cream-covered length went limp. He placed her onto the desk carefully, making her sit down and spread her legs wide in front of him.

Both Harry and Natasha watched as the mixture of their orgasms dripped out of Natasha’s hole, which was as wide as Harry’s girth. He managed to gape her because of how strong the impact his cock had on her pussy, and it was such a gorgeous sight to him whenever he could achieve it with his partners. Natasha pushed some cum out as well, and her tightening cunt made a little squelching noise that one could only hear in the most disgusting of porn films. Harry slid his finger against her gaping hole and picked up some of their mixture onto the tip. He sucked his finger into his mouth and swirled the cum inside, mixing it with his saliva.

Harry brought his mouth above Natasha’s and opened up her own with his thumb. He spilled his saliva and cum mixture into hers. “One final request,” he murmured into her lips. Natasha stared into her professor’s eyes as she swallowed what Harry gave her, and as she finished she opened her mouth. Harry smiled and stated, “Say aah. Wanna know if you swallowed it all.” Natasha fulfilled his request and gave him an “aah” as if she had just drank the best drink of her life.

As Natasha got off of the table, she looked up at the corner of the room and let out a gasp. “Um, Professor?” She pointed at the camera facing directly at the teacher’s desk where they had been fucking. “Well, I hope they had a jolly good show. I know I have.” Harry let out a belly-laugh, to which Natasha followed with a laugh of her own after a bit of hesitation.

“So… what about my grade?” Harry looked at her and gave her a smirk. But it was not like the cheeky ones before, it was much more sinister. “Your grade?” He laughed again. “Oh, sweetheart, you really aren’t the brightest light, huh?” Natasha tilted her head to the side quizzically. “Wh-what do you mean?,” she asked him with a scared undertone. Harry picked up Natasha’s bag for her and held it out to her. “Did you genuinely expect me to change anything, love?” Natasha stood there in shock and silence.

“Jeez, I’m only kidding, gorgeous! Looks like you’ve seen a ghost,” Harry said with a bright smile as he helped Natasha put her bag on her back. When he finished, he slapped her ass. “Your grade will be just fine. You did me a favor, now I can help you. Now, get on out of here. Don’t want anyone to see you look this fucked out.”

Natasha giggled and made her way out of Mr. Styles’s room with a pep to her step. As she turned down the hallway to the point he couldn’t see her, Harry locked his door and sat back at the desk, putting the contents of the desk he just bent his student over right back into their proper places. He chuckled to himself, “That girl is not getting her grade fixed.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #student x teacher #fanfiction #Smut

252 notes · View notes

zoobus · 2 years

Text

@dtwoh2

This ended up being super long so I decided not to harass OP's replies

(this is about my opinion that Elliot the billionaire from Breaking Bad S1E5 "Grey Matter" was not a generous, kindly rich friend offering Walt a way out with no strings attached)

First, let me say this: I know most people don't notice or care about fashion but BrBa actually did put notable effort in their costume design and it's because characters like Skyler are consistently well-dressed that made this point so glaring

When she's hosting, when she goes to the office, hell even her house robes are sophisticated, put together fits - I'm not sure how she affords those sumptuous silk kimonos she's always wearing but it hammers home Skye as an appearance-minded person, a woman who knows how to dress. Even with the shit camera quality, you can tell her hot pink baby shower dress was made for her.

And yet.

Walt and Skye go to that party in complementing loud, harsh, ugly blues for what they learn is a beige party - the literal exact opposite of blue.

Now, it'd be one thing if they'd known and worn beige outfits that were shabby in comparison and Walt got in his feelings about it. Or if they'd truly "missed the memo" as Walt snarks and come in normal-wear that was out of dress code - yep could see Walt assuming it was intentional and throwing a fit.

But this poor couple attending a billionaire's party for some reason thought they should wear gaudy blue, with Skye's dress in particular highlighting exactly how cheap it is. It's almost as if they were under the impression they had to wear a color a domesticated adult would be unlikely to already own and rarely looks good on a budget, doubly so if you're 8 months pregnant. Skye would NEVER wear that shiny ass prom dress with the ruched center seam, scratchy 100% polyester raschel lace shawl, and sequined evening bag in public unless she thought it was her only choice. She never wears anything like this again, not even in the same season. The only rational explanation is someone lied to them. The more I explain this, the more I realize why most people missed it.

Now for the less special interest type reasons:

Walt asks (then later confirms) the invite said "no gifts." You might say oh, maybe Elliot was trying to spare Walt's pride but if so, why make a point of sharing it like he did? Why even invite your broke prideful friend to this kind of party, like you can't think of any other way to meet, chat, and ask if he'll work for you?

Additionally, how odd that Walt's was the only invite that didn't say this was a beige party.

Really can't downplay how hard it is to swallow they forgot to tell the Whites not to show up in clown uniforms.

Elliot's loudly showing off his gifts, with the last being an autographed Eric Clapton Stratocaster® which on the low end today is a $2000 electric guitar, but can go to the tens of thousands. Then he spots his friend's meager, teensy little thing, smaller than his hand and LITERALLY POINTS WALT OUT so everyone knows for damn sure who did this. Elliot unwraps it and does this full body sigh. Hands dropped. Your dad getting another tie for father's day type reaction. Young Good Ramen. No this is great man. You can get 10 for 1.99.

Sorry, no it WAS malicious. Listen to his voice. Feel how long he held that unpleasant silence before forcing a chuckle. Holding eye contact throughout while the crowd darts their eyes and smirks. This isn't Harry Potter - you can't emphasize how shitty something is then magically negate it like "and that's why I love it hahaha!" Elliot made it clear where he thinks Walt stands. Beneath him.

The whole party is like this, a humiliating horror show of socializing out of your social sphere. We don't even know what their relationship was like before. The implication is that Walt separated from this guy before for a reason and the reason was probably in line with what we saw today.

Elliot isn't stupid. He knows Walt. He knows Walt's character. He knows their financial disparities. He knows Walt is sick. Presumably he's well aware of Walt's pride. An intelligent and well-meaning friend doesn't accidentally combo-hit the exact weak points that caused you to drift apart in less than an hour before asking hey how would you like to literally owe me your life? How would you like the kind of debt that can't be repaid? :) You're a smart man.

If Elliot really cared about saving Walt, he wouldn't have gone about it the way he did. If, however, he wanted to antagonize and flex on Walt, make him as uncomfortable as possible, keep in his wife's good graces by offering him a job, and end the night with two possible outcomes - either he accepts and gets richer or he rejects and elliot can say "Welp honey, your former lover and ex-fiance Walter White said no for some weird reason. oh well, I tried! :)"

Idk, I guess it could be a projection but the way Elliot talked to Walt reminded me of old friends whom, in retrospect, didn't even try to hide their disdain for me. Like wow how did I miss that.

I think Gretchen had honest intentions. Her husband didn't. I don't know what his deal was exactly but I'd exhaust all other resources before accepting this dude who publicly embarrassed me as my savior, livelihood, and future employer.

#breaking bad #brba #sorry but I genuinely do not understand the popular(?) read of Elliot as a benevolent and well-meaning friend #And Walt as a selfish prideful ass projecting malicious intent upon him #I mean Walt is that but he wasn't projecting this time #niche effortposts

630 notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 2 years

Note

i need to know their relationship process! how did they fall in love?? did they just accept the fact that they were married and went on with it? or did they have a plan to divorce?

“Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to suggest that maybe we don’t do this.”

“I…psh, no. I wasn’t…I wasn’t gonna…no—”

“Harry, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Well—” Harry’s hands raise in defense, eyebrows lifting. “You heard the lawyer. It’s technically a legal, binding contract and since we consummated the union—”

“Ew. Ew. Don't ever say that again—”

“We fucked like a couple of bunnies,” he corrects, offering a much too pleased smirk. “Which means we can’t annul the marriage and we’d have to get an actual divorce—”

“Still not seeing the problem—”

“—which is a lot of work, and money, and time.”

You offer a pointed look from your side of the elevator. “Right and don’t you have…all the money? I’m sure Rebecca has contributed to at least half of your bank account with all the fucking ugly-ass merch she buys, so I know you can swing it—”

His eyes narrow as he snorts. “That’s not the point—”

“Okay, then what’s the point? Is your image too squeaky clean for a divorce?” Your tone is mocking but the longer he takes to answer, the harder the realization hits you. “Oh.”

“Listen, it’s not…it would just be a whole thing,” he sighs, pinching at his lids. “And it would just be another mess to clean up and it’s not like we don’t know each other—”

“We don’t know each other—”

“Well, we can learn.” His arms cross, expression hopeful. “Why don’t we just…give it a couple months, yeah? We don’t have to tell anyone, and we can just…get to know each other. See if maybe we were meant to find our way to that chapel—”

“We weren’t.”

“Well, you don’t know that—”

“No, I do. I would never marry a guy who likes Dancing Queen over Gimme, Gimme—”

“Okay, see, and that’s why our kids will have my music taste—”

“I’m sorry, our what—”

“Hey, listen, the men in my family have incredibly strong sperm, I’m just saying it’s a possibility—”

“Oh my God, stop talking. Stop talking right now. Please—”

“Fine, they can have your tone-deaf taste—”

“Harry, I swear to God, I’ll shove you out the fucking window right now. I’ll widow myself if that’s what it takes—”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think—”

“I think shoving you would be a lot kinder than what I initially had in mind.”

His brow raises, the smug smile slipping back into place. “Oh?”

“Ew, not like that—”

“Sorry, just…going off last night. Didn’t peg you as the type to have a blood kink, but—”

“Yeah? So? You’re the masochist who enjoys being called my sweet boy—”

“Hey, sometimes guys wanna be taken care of too, you know—”

“I…okay, that’s fair—”

“Yeah, see? Exactly.”

The elevator continues to move down the many floors of the near skyscraper they call an office building. After finally coming to terms with your mistake this morning, Harry had called his manager, who immediately found the best lawyer money could buy.

Suffice to say the appointment didn’t go well.

And while you’re a tad disappointed to be leaving still married to number four on your If I Had To Fuck A One Direction Member, Who Would It Be list, you can’t deny that things truly could be worse.

You might not remember every detail, but you do remember having at least a little bit of fun.

Especially last night.

Especially.

You can tell he’s beginning to recall the same image, his eyes lowering as he braces his hands against the elevator railing.

The tension is palpable, the air thick with unspoken promises and mutual longing.

You remember running your fingers through his curls, tugging his head back as you squeezed his throat. Until he offered that damn smirk of his. Until he was begging you to kiss him.

Needy little thing.

“Don’t.” His voice, gravely and coarse speaks up from a few feet away, and your eyes flick to his.

“Don’t what?”

His head cocks to the side. “Don’t fucking look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You teasingly bat your lashes, pulling your lip between your teeth before leaning back against the railing as well.

“Don’t,” he repeats, and you can physically see his resolve beginning to crumble with every moment that passes.

“Why?” You drop the rhythm of your voice to a sensual purr. “Aren’t you my sweet boy?”

He makes a noise deep in the back of his throat before pushing off the elevator wall to stride toward you.

His hands cement themselves to the wall beside your head as he leans down, dangerously close to your self-control.

“Don’t,” he says now for the third time. “Because if you start this game, I’ll have to finish it.”

You straighten up, nothing if not a fair player, eyeing him closely. “Oh, that’s cute you think you can.”

A scoff, a playful smile on his lips. “Don’t test me, princess.”

“It’s Daddy…” you correct within an instant, dipping a bit closer. “…to you.”

A moment of silence. A pause in your determination that’s met with the sound of his palm reaching out to smack the emergency power button, bringing the ride to a quick and sudden halt.

“All right, Daddy,” he murmurs, lips ghosting yours. “But let’s just be clear…just because you’re my wife doesn’t mean I won’t fuck you like a whore.”

“Yeah?” You can’t resist the smug grin as you stretch yourself to your tiptoes to ghost your lips over his.

You hear his breath hitch. Watch the way his eyes flutter shut at the mere promise of your touch.

“Prove it.”

I couldn't help it, I hope whoever asked for the original doesn't mind hehe

So there's at least what their morning looked like!

Next Part:

~ Mr. & Mrs. Hey Soul Sister pt. 3*

Previous Part:

~ Mr. & Mrs. Hey Soul Sister pt. 1

~ Other Harry Blurbs

#harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fan #harry styles request #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

769 notes · View notes

o-wyrmlight · 10 days

Text

Chapter 13 of A Toast to the Pigs, an AU that attempts to thoroughly explore the concept of Harry Du Bois not waking up in Martinaise with amnesia. Today, we talk to Evrart and Harry gets triggered.

Warning: Self-harm is depicted in the latter part of the chapter. Always remember to check the tags for upcoming chapters, as I tend to add tags as I go.

The first time he touches you, it's to pull you out of incoming traffic. You're drunk and supposed to be following a lead. Traffic today is high to gather for a festival around Central Jamrock's lake. You haven't been to a festival in years and don't give a shit about them anymore. You don't have anyone to go to a festival with anyway. Jean saves your life (more or less), but your first instinct is to punch him in the fucking face. His hand around your arm pulls away from you, leaving the flesh beneath simmering with coals. Your flesh is burning but there's nothing to cause it. The phantom sensation of his handprint lingers, blaring alarms through every inch of your body. Jean yelps and holds his face, cradling his palm against his jaw. He doesn't understand why you attacked him. He just saved your life. Good. He will never know. You jab a finger at him and scream. "Touch me again," you snap, pushing him. "Fucking touch me again and see what happens. I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!" You never apologize. The last person who touched you kindly was Dora Ingerlund. Everything since then has just been pain and betrayal. It's dangerous. You need to protect yourself before you catch fire.

In the meantime, Kim put a file filled with pedantic, repetitive numericals away, slotting it neatly back into place. He braced his arm against the door, his brain half-mush. It was as he was closing it that he noticed it—the off-color strip stuck to the inside of the door.

“…Detective,” he said, slipping out his pocket knife and beginning to pry the tape off. “I found something that might interest you.”

His knife left tiny scrapes in the paint of the metal. Bits of tape remained stuck. It didn’t need to be a delicate job.

“…What?”

Kim glanced toward the watery voice. The water was still running, hissing into the bottom of the basin. Harry’s splotchy face, red with alcohol and sick with stress, squinted blearily back at him. His right arm was still bleeding and just beginning to scab over, ugly lines cradled by red welts.

Kim… didn’t ignore this, but he chose not to comment. Instead, he peeled the rest of the paper off of the door, folding the tape neatly over the edges. “’Remember, Leo,’” he read, “’Evrart’s shoes; Special Whirling borscht; Water Evrart’s plants; sweep office floors; more banners.’”

He took out his notebook, slipping the note inside and making a notation. “The Whirling borscht sounds interesting, no? I don’t know. It seemed like something that might interest you.”

“…Sure.” Harry’s lungs rattled as he breathed in deeply. He turned back toward the sink and braced himself against the edge, arms cradled close to his chest. His shoulders rose and fell in a staggered attempt to keep tempo—in, out. In. Out. Slow and steadying.

“One hundred. Ninety-five. Ninety. Eighty-five. The furies are at home in the mirror. It is their address. Even the clearest water, if deep enough, can drown. Never think to surprise them. Your face approaching ever so friendly is the white flag they ignore. There is no truce with the furies. A mirror’s…”

His Volta do Mar stalled on his tongue, and for a while, he just stood there. He breathed. Finally, he cupped his hands beneath the still-running water and splashed his face with it, coughing. Harry ran his arm beneath the faucet one final time before shutting it off.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #a toast to the pigs #wyrm writes

19 notes · View notes

mxlfoydraco · 1 year

Note

Hello, do you have Drarry Fic Recs centered around Christmas or the Holiday Season? :) Love your blog, best regards

Apparently, I know more Christmas fics than I thought I would? Considering that I'm not a Christmas person at all lmao. Another caveat that I took a 2 year hiatus, several friends have written advent/holidays fics but I'm not very up to date!

Humbug (A Christmas Tale) by Snegurochka (80k)

Draco has been taking his casual relationship with Harry for granted. Visits from four key ghosts the night before Christmas just might shake up his priorities in life.

All Roads Lead Home by dracogotgame (14k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

The Safe House by emmagrant01 (10k)

Aurors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are forced to spend Christmas together in a safe house. Bet you can guess what happens. ;-)

A Lick and a Promise by @tackytigerfic (55k)

Something sinister stirs in Hogwarts! When magical creatures and students at the school are hit with a debilitating blood curse, Minerva McGonagall approaches the Ministry for help. Star Auror Harry Potter seems to be the obvious choice to go undercover—as DADA Professor, naturally. He’s going to need the help of the Ministry’s foremost expert in blood magic to get to the bottom of the mystery, though, and he’s not entirely convinced that going back to Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy is a good idea. Things are complicated between them—what’s new?—but they know they have to learn to work together (and keep their hands off each other in the corridors) in order to solve this case. Luckily for them, Hogwarts itself wants to lend a hand. A tale of love, lessons, and learning to really live.

Un Noël très parisien by @femmequixotic and @noeeon (14k)

When Draco crossed paths with Auror Potter at a political function in Paris, he was not expecting their former animosity to change into something rather more intriguing. But he could be certain their casual flirtation would not last more than the night, couldn't he?

The Light More Beautiful by @firethesound (81k)

Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter's help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn't been enough to dim Draco's obsession with him.

And a Malfoy in a Pear Tree by lauren3210 (7k)

Draco works in a coffee shop. Harry drops by every day to get his fix. Of coffee, Ron.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart - orphaned (10k)

"So maybe it really actually starts like this: Draco is gifted a truly horribly ugly Christmas jumper by his mother, and is guilt-tripped into wearing it at work. Apparently Harry takes the hideousness of the jumper to mean that Draco is okay with receiving terribly ugly things for presents, because the next time he’s abroad – in bloody Chicago – he brings back an eagle with the American flag on its back that is capable of singing the first three lines of the American anthem if you press it on the stomach back for Draco." __ Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels. When Harry then shows up injured in Draco's flat, Draco considers the possibility that he's going insane.

Anatomy of a Wolf Heart by @clytemenestras (40k)

MALFOY HEIR FOUND ALIVE IN WEREWOLF FIGHTING RING Three years ago at the tragic Battle that freed our great Wizarding World from the grip of a megalomaniac Dark Wizard, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, our world lost many Witches and Wizards. Among the dead and missing was Draco Malfoy, the only son of notorious Death Eaters Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, both of whom volunteered their home for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to use as a headquarters. Sources have confirmed that the young Malfoy took a vow to follow in his parents footsteps by taking the Dark Mark. Inside sources have uncovered that the Malfoy heir has been found alive. Aurors recently went undercover to expose a fighting ring involving illegal potions and unregistered werewolves. Among those rescued was Draco Malfoy.

It’s No Great Mystery by @agentmoppet (57k)

Who on earth decided that bringing back the Yule Ball for their eighth year would be a good idea? It feels like the worst day of Harry’s life, watching everyone get glammed up like the war never happened, like the last Triwizard Tournament wasn’t such a colossal failure. And then it happens again. And again. And again.

come with me into the light by @tryslora (21k)

Everything has changed by the time Harry returns to Hogwarts for his second attempt at his final year. He no longer wears glasses, he mourns dead friends from the war, and Draco Malfoy walks the halls as if he is a ghost as well. When Pansy asks Harry to help snap Malfoy out of his silence, what else is he supposed to say? Malfoy needs to be saved, and that's just what Harry does.

The One Where Everybody Finds Out by @slytherco (8k)

Prompt: "That’s mistletoe we’re standing under.”

---

Remember those few legendary F.R.I.E.N.D.S. episodes where Chandler and Monica thought they were SUPER sneaky with their relationship but all their friends found out one after another? Well, here's just that - in Drarry flavour.

Come Back to Me by Sophie_French (28k)

Lily Malfoy-Potter could ask Father Christmas many things: a beautiful doll with glittering pink and purple robes, a stuffed kneazle just like her cousin Rose’s or even a colour-changing diadem like the princesses in the bedtime stories her Papa tells her. But she won’t. No, this year, she will only ask for one thing: for her Papa and Daddy to get back together and be happy again. She just can’t wait.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit. Featuring a grumpy antiques lover who most certainly did not sign up for this, encounters with a vengeful apparition, and a healthy application of Christmas spirit.

A Melody of You & Me by @academicdisasterfic (64k)

Draco Malfoy has a Christmas choir competition to win, and Harry Potter has an orphanage that needs funding. When Luna Lovegood intervenes, they agree to help each other out: Harry will join the choir if Draco chooses to sponsor his charity. But agreeing to work together also means getting to know each other again - in new and unexpected ways. Ft. a chaotic festive choir, scheming friends, a healthy dose of mental health issues, one very irritating ex, and boys learning how to love and be loved.

All I Want For Christmas (Is For You To Stop Talking) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon (162k)

The Niffler's Garden is the most prestigious wizarding nursery school in England and has been for the last century or more. Harry Potter's boys are both enrolled as pupils at the Garden. When he volunteers to assist with the Yule pageant, he has no idea that he'll be working closely with another parent, Draco Malfoy. Although they haven't seen each other much since their own school days, Harry faults Malfoy for not being a hands-on dad to little Scorpius. Will the intense weeks of preparation fan the fires of enmity or something else entirely? Warnings: Background discussion of divorce, coming out, parenting, very brief mention of difficult pregnancy.

All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl (61k)

Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really.

The Light That is Blinding Me by @acciotomriddle (22k)

After Flourish and Blotts stop stocking the books of Harry’s favourite author, he is directed to a queer bookshop and discovers it’s owned by none other than Draco Malfoy, who has more in common with Harry than either of them realise.

#drarry #drarry fics #drarry fic recs #drarry fic rec #fic recs #my recs #christmas drarry #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter

298 notes · View notes

cuffmeinblack · 11 months

Text

Retribution

Ominis Gaunt x f!OC

ao3 link

9k words

Summary: Ominis has kept his romantic involvement with Maerys a secret from his family for her own safety, but a pending betrothal causes complications. Maerys confronts his family with the hope of acceptance but gets more than she bargained for.

A/n: I wrote this for my giveaway winner @huntress-valkyrie with her OC Maerys Baratheon 🖤, originally meant to be under 4k words but I loved the idea so it ended up much longer. Especially the Kaz Brekker quote prompt.

There's also a slightly-spicy, sweet bonus audio.

The past year had been extraordinary in many ways, a year of firsts for Maerys—the start of a career she felt so passionately about, a new place to live away from the castle she had called home for several years. The most remarkable may have been finding her long-held affection for Ominis Gaunt returned tenfold, settling into what could only be described as domestic bliss within a few short months.

Their careers kept them apart for long periods of time, but they both found their way back with increasing fervour, spending the hours they had together living life to the fullest. The minute Maerys opened the door to their shared house, Ominis had scooped her up into his arms, forgoing his interrogation of her day's activities to show her his adoration and remind her that she was his . Though he never said it, he despised that her job in Magical Law Enforcement was so dominated by men, all eager to be on first name terms with the exciting new female investigator.

Ominis' love was more intense than anything she'd expected—once he had admitted his feelings and she had reciprocated, he began courting her with a ferocity that took her breath away. Their love was all consuming and Maerys knew that Ominis would do absolutely anything for her, save one. He would never reveal her existence to his family.

Maerys understood, to some extent, why—their absolute disdain for her kind was well known, and had caused a world of problems for Ominis who had dealt with the tainted Gaunt name. They would never allow him to openly be with someone who they deemed so beneath them; to use their words, a witch with dirty blood . She had fought and fought to tell them but Ominis had refused her for what may have been the very first time. She knew it wasn't a matter of Ominis' shame, but in her darker days the demons reared their ugly heads to convince her otherwise. Today was one of those days.

The past twelve hours had been utterly gruelling; the culmination of months of planning was an arrest of epic proportions involving over a dozen officers from the department, all after an elusive wizard who had thus far managed to defraud hundreds. Their hard work had paid off, and Maerys, whilst exhausted to her bones, was eager to make the most of it. So rarely did her colleagues get to enjoy such a monumental event.

"We're off to the Leaky Cauldron if you want to join us, Mae," Felicity offered, tucking her wand back into her holster.

"Love to. I don't want to stay too late though…," Maerys replied.

"I know."

Of course they knew—everyone knew that she spent every spare moment she had with Ominis. Their schedules didn't allow for too much of a social life, and whilst she missed having a more active circle of friends, she had priorities. Tonight was a rare opportunity to mingle with the witches and wizards she spent hours with every day, without the constant talk of Ministry bureaucracy.

The Leaky Cauldron was packed to the rafters with those enjoying a post-work beverage to blow off steam; harried-looking wizards in smart, pressed robes and Wizenagamot pins attached to their collars lined the bar looking thoroughly exhausted. Maerys wondered who'd they'd been sentencing—by the looks on their faces, the trial hadn't been an easy one.

"Firewhiskey, please," Maerys directed the barkeeper, who nodded and flicked his wand to pour the deep amber liquid.

"Same," a voice appeared beside her.

"Nicholas," Maerys nodded in greeting at the tall man beside her.

"Starting on the strong stuff, I like it."

"I have limited time, I may as well make the most of it."

"It's alright to spend a little time away from your guard dog," he said, a hint of distaste in his voice.

Maerys rolled her eyes and threw back the whiskey, signalling for another before it had slid down her throat. Bitterly, she thought that of course, Nicholas would use this opportunity to berate her choice of partner and try to convince her of his own virtues. There was no end to the amount of people in her line of work who had taken an instant dislike to Ominis because of his family name. With a sigh, Maerys knew then that the night would be a long one.

"Are you okay?" Ominis' strained voice rang through the hallway.

Maerys closed the door, barely being able to step foot inside before she was clumsily enveloped by Ominis' arms. She sank into the embrace, her muscles releasing the tension they'd held since the day began.

"I'm fine, it went well."

"Where have you been?" Ominis asked with a slight frown. "I was worried sick."

"I'm sorry," Maerys said, cupping his cheek in her hand. "We went to celebrate afterwards."

"Ah."

Ominis' nose flared, a sure sign that he was quietly seething. There was no love lost between Ominis and her colleagues, particularly when they were so openly flirtatious towards her.

That didn't stop him from gripping her waist, or pressing his mouth against those soft, pillowy lips. Nor did his anger stop the desire that coursed through his veins, his possessive brand of love overcoming any and all inhibitions in a frantic need to claim her. The fire in their lovemaking burned so hot it threatened to consume them both in those moments, both wordlessly conveying that they belonged only to each other, forever and always.

As they basked silently in the afterglow, Ominis traced the flame-shaped birthmark on Maerys’ lower back as he often did—the skin textured differently to the surrounding flesh, the rough patch always guided his delicate fingers there. At one point, the attention to the red blemish might have bothered her, but she had since come to love it as much as his own imperfections; the beauty marks that flecked his cheeks and continued down his body reminded her of constellations, something to be celebrated and marvelled at, not hidden away.

“I wanted to discuss something with you…but perhaps now isn’t the most opportune moment,” Ominis said quietly, more to himself than to Maerys.

Her interest piqued, Maerys raised herself up onto her elbows and turned her head to look at Ominis, her mahogany locks cascading onto the pillow below her. Ominis continued his rhythmic stroking of her back, his touch noticeably gentler.

“What is it? Now’s a good a time as any.”

Ominis took a few seconds to collect his thoughts as she waited with bated breath, noticing the way his brows pinched slightly between his eyes and his kiss-swollen lips pursed. The face was familiar, one of either great concentration or great discomfort.

“It’s quite a delicate subject but I promise you I have no intention of fulfilling my obligation.”

Maerys’ heart thumped in her chest and she sat up on the bed, staring down at her beloved with unbelieving eyes. Finally, the day she’d dreaded had come, a mere year into their courtship.

“Who?”

Ominis sighed and lifted himself off the mattress to sit next to Maerys, his fingers tracing her goose pimpled flesh to find her contorted face, cupping her cheek lovingly.

“A…cousin. I promise you, I have no intention of marrying her, or anyone else.”

“This never would have happened if you didn’t insist on keeping me a secret, Ominis.”

“For your own safety , Maerys.”

“Or for your own convenience?”

“ How can you say that? I want nothing more in this world than to declare my love for you. You must know that by now.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Ominis. Perhaps another day, but I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I love you…most ardently.”

Maerys had neither the energy or inclination to reply, merely settling back onto the bed and waiting for Ominis, who sighed and lay back a moment later. She may have been able to hold a grudge, but there was no reason why she would deprive herself of his warmth on such a cold day. She told herself that the blustery winds and driving rain outside the window was reason enough to need the extra heat, and certainly not because she craved his comfort.

The tension carried on into morning, with Maerys finding herself so distracted making breakfast that a wayward flick of her wand left the kitchen covered in goopy porridge. Ominis took over shortly after that, his eyebrows never fully relaxing as he rolled up his shirt sleeves to prepare them some much-needed fuel.

Maerys watched Ominis cook, as always finding his care and attention to detail entrancing. She quietly sipped her tea, stewing over what he'd divulged the previous evening, and finding herself at a loss as to how to proceed. She was angry— of course at his despicable family but at Ominis , too.

It was high time his father knew about Maerys and accepted her. Whether or not he would was another issue, but she wouldn't tolerate such a slight as to be so completely unacknowledged. The milky Darjeeling slid down her throat and warmed her stomach as she formed a plan for her day off work and Ominis served their food, none the wiser. He would thank her later, even if it meant a day or two of flared tempers culminating in a passionate reunification.

"Eat up," Ominis said, breaking Maerys out of her daydream.

Ominis rolled down his sleeves and smoothed his waistcoat as he settled at the table. The breakfast was delicious, as it usually was when Ominis prepared it.

“What will you do today?” Ominis asked.

“Oh, I’m…not sure,” Maerys replied evasively.

If Ominis found the answer suspicious or unsatisfactory, he didn’t say, choosing to forgo further argument and concentrate on his food. They ate quickly and Ominis gave himself a final smooth over, grabbing his suitcase and holstering his wand whilst Maerys followed him to the door—a ritual they never deviated from whatever the current mood. They would always say goodbye, the unspoken truth that it could always be the last.

The kiss she gave Ominis was an apology for what she was intending to do; slow and passionate with a heavy admission of love. Ominis' hands wandered over her scantily-clad body, still dressed in only her silk nightdress and a delicate dressing gown. She hadn't intended to distract him so thoroughly, but the low growl in his throat and twitch in his trousers sent her own blood rushing, an ache between her legs so intense she couldn't control the whimper that left her mouth.

Ominis' tongue swept into her mouth, hungry and demanding as his hands kneaded the soft flesh of her breasts through the flimsy fabric. Her nipples responded, peaking under his touch as she moaned longingly into his mouth. Maerys always found Ominis irresistible no matter her mood, and the way his composure broke down around her was a power she never knew she craved.

Her head spun, revelling in the way his erection pressed painfully into her hip, probably soaking his carefully pressed work trousers with arousal that she had brought forth.

"Shouldn't you be getting to work?" Maerys said teasingly.

"You know full well I can't leave until I've had you now," Ominis replied, a hand slipping underneath her nightdress.

His delicate fingers pushed aside the lacy undergarments and found the pool of slick between her legs and she moaned, stumbling backwards against the hallway wall. Ominis followed, not allowing their contact to break as he resumed the rhythmic grinding of his stiff cock against her. His lips traced her neck as his fingers parted her folds and he dragged his digits lazily across her swollen nub, spreading her arousal.

Maerys met his hand with a movement of her hips, sighing with every brush of his fingers against her most sensitive area. She had no intention of dragging out the encounter, as she watched Ominis' flushed face with lust-filled eyes, her core ached for him. Her hands flew to his thoroughly-dirtied trousers, biting her tongue at the sight of the pooling precum on the straining fabric. She made quick work of his buttons, releasing his thick cock and a moan from his mouth, hot breath against the skin of her neck.

She'd barely wrapped her hand around him before Ominis had spun her around, his length pressing against her behind as he gathered the silk above her hips. He continued to kiss her neck, muttering sweet nothings as he lined himself up with her soaking entrance before pushing the tip inside her slowly, allowing her time to adjust to his size. They moaned together as he slid deeper into her soaking wet hole, her walls clenching eagerly in anticipation of the glorious climax she soon knew she'd be experiencing.

"Fuck , Ominis," Maerys sighed, always surprised at how he managed to make her feel so full .

"You've made me late for work, you know," Ominis said as his cock retreated.

He slid back inside her, pressing harder and deeper each time. Maerys arched her back into the thrusts, his cock hitting her satisfyingly deep and sending shockwaves through her primed and panting body.

"You feel so good," she barely managed to whimper through his forceful thrusts.

"And you feel absolutely incredible", brushing her dark, waist-length hair over her shoulder and continuing his assault on her tender neck.

She knew he'd leave marks, another reminder that she belonged to him alone. She would show them proudly, brushing them with her fingers fondly as she brushed her tangled hair later that day.

Ominis' rhythm ramped up, the empty hallways filling with the sounds of their slickened skin slapping, Maerys' arousal thoroughly coating their most intimate areas as Ominis became more and more dishevelled. Her soft and blood-swollen walls enveloped his cock so completely, every roll of his hips bringing them both closer to the edge.

"I do enjoy it when you wear this," Ominis whispered in her ear, his hands wandering over her waist. "I can feel every…curve…of your delicious little body."

Maerys gasped and pushed backwards against his cock as Ominis resumed his teasing of her nipples, practically drooling against her neck. She could feel her orgasm brewing, her breath growing ragged and muscles twitching in anticipation. Ominis couldn't fail to notice the same.

"Come on, my love. Show me how good I feel."

"Ominis…," Maerys sighed his name and fingers clawed uselessly at the wallpaper as she reached her climax.

Her core clenched before her orgasm exploded, sending waves through her body and gripping Ominis' cock. Soft moans brushed her ear as Ominis reached his own blissful release, filling her with his cum with every squeeze around his shaft. Maerys was against the wall, Ominis' weight pressing her hard as he grinded his hips into her, milking every last drop of his seed inside her.

When Ominis' was empty and Maerys a limp and bedraggled mess, he pulled her back and held her tightly, planting kisses on every exposed inch of skin he could find.

"I love you," he sighed.

"I love you, too," Maerys sighed, reaching back to gently stroke his jaw.

"Now, I really must change and get to work, lest I find myself out of a job for my tardiness."

Ominis had left in a hurry, planting a swift kiss on her lips on his way out of the door, leaving Maerys alone to ready herself for the day. The first order of business was to wash the sex from her skin, letting the water and gentle soaps lift the residue from her thighs. She squirmed slightly as her fingers brushed over her intimate area, slightly sore and puffy. She dressed smartly, taking care with her appearance more than she might usually.

Meeting Ominis’ family should have been a joyous affair, but the Gaunts had made such a thing a fairytale. Maerys would instead be confronting them at a great disadvantage—not only did they have no idea she even existed, she’d be asking them to accept her and break off Ominis’ engagement.

There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs of the encounter; as Maerys left the house to apparate to her destination, she ran over the words she wanted to say. A crack of apparition later, and she landed in a green expanse far away from the city she’d just left.

The Gaunt manor was as imposing as she'd imagined—though the house was large and likely once an ostentatious show of pureblood wealth, it was now run down and a shadow of its former glory. As with any magical dwelling, particularly for a powerful family, the building and grounds were enveloped by wards—this wouldn't simply be a case of walking up to the front door and knocking. Only those who were invited would be allowed to enter the wards, and knowing the Gaunts, Maerys wouldn't have been surprised if an intruder found themselves in searing pain. The place practically rippled with dark magic.

Maerys likely could have taken them down, one by one. She was a powerful witch with a background in law enforcement; this was part and parcel of her job. However, she preferred to remain on good (or at least civil) terms with Ominis' father by the time she left. Tentatively taking out her wand, she pointed it at the boundary and shot red sparks at the wards. They fizzled and disappeared as they hit the shimmering dome, and Maerys waited.

She'd expected a servant of some sort, perhaps a house elf to greet her, instead a tall, dark figure appeared in the doorway. Perhaps it was a trick of perspective and the door was smaller than it appeared, but the man seemed to tower over everything he walked past. His dark hair was tucked behind his ears and as he approached, Maerys noted the hostile glare on his otherwise handsome face.

"Who are you?" the man snarled.

"A friend of Ominis'. I need to talk to Mr Gaunt," Maerys replied, summoning all of her confidence and willing her voice to be steady.

The man sneered, his dark eyes piercing through Maerys like daggers.

"We don't like friends of Ominis here. Blood traitor."

"Who…?"

"Marvolo. Marvolo Gaunt. And you're trespassing."

Maerys stared up at Ominis' brother in disbelief. He was the polar opposite of Ominis, and Maerys wondered if this was a quirk of their notorious inbreeding or his mother had simply been unfaithful when producing one of the brothers. His skin was tanned, eyes and hair darker, much taller and muscular than his elegant and fair brother. He had none of Ominis' refined air, nor his politeness, apparently.

"Please, I only need a few minutes and then I'll leave. I think Mr Gaunt would appreciate what I have to say."

Marvolo regarded her with dead eyes, devoid of warmth, before drawing his wand and waving an arch over the wards to create a path to admit her. Maerys stepped through the opening as Marvolo strode off without another word. She assumed she was meant to follow him, but his strides were so long she found herself practically running to keep up. His cruel smirk as he looked back at her indicated this had likely been his intention; the humiliation already beginning.

Maerys' heart thumped in her chest as she skipped across the threshold into the manor, eyes darting around at the dilapidated hallway and once-grand staircase now reduced to scuffed wood and tattered carpet. She'd always assumed Ominis exaggerated about his family, down to the financial situation that was a great source of shame for him. To Maerys' dismay, it appeared he'd been truthful, including Marvolo's cruel sneer and intimidating air.

The house hummed with dark magic, and her gut twisted as she considered all that Ominis had told her. His family were dangerous , unhinged , utterly without conscience . If he had been telling her the truth, Maerys had made a huge lapse in judgement in coming to their manor alone.

Marvolo led her down a dim corridor to an inconspicuous door and leaned against the wall opposite, watching and waiting. Maerys' eyes darted from him to the door, thankful to finally be leaving his presence. She knocked on the wood and waited until a voice called from inside and the door flew open and she was pulled inside by a stream of magic. The slam from behind her and click of a lock indicated that she was now alone with a different man, standing in the middle of the room with his wand aloft.

"Who are you? State your business," he demanded.

Maerys barely had a chance to take in her surroundings before scrambling for words to answer him. This must have been Tiberius Gaunt, Ominis' father. Much older than she'd expected and more reminiscent of Ominis than his brother, his pale skin reflected in the dim light from the oil lamps dotted around the room. He had only a hint of Ominis' beauty; his eyes were cold, narrowed and full of suspicion.

"I'm sorry to intrude, Mr Gaunt. I'm a friend of Ominis' and wished to speak with you about something."

His glare softened at the mention of his son and he lowered his wand, retreating to an armchair amongst the towers of dusty books that lined the walls of the small library. Maerys followed, perching awkwardly on the chair opposite him as he watched with great interest.

"A friend, you say? What could a friend have to say to me, hm? A day after his betrothal, no less. Don't take me for a fool , girl."

Maerys swallowed thickly, a chill running down her spine at the accusation. He was right, of course—her attempt at subtlety was anything but.

"You're correct. Myself and Ominis have been…romantically involved for some time."

"I see. And you wish to cast yourself into the ring, as it were? What of your heritage, girl?"

"My mother was a witch," Maerys replied, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

"Just your mother?" he pressed, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Maerys nodded—she had never been made to feel less than adequate because of her blood status, but the way Tiberius Gaunt looked at her that moment was enough to erase every last drop of her self-assuredness. She knew his thoughts on the matter, and yet she had presented herself before him with a demand; or perhaps it was a plea.

"I love Ominis very much, as he loves me. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove myself worthy of your family name."

"My son is already a disappointment, I'll not have another besmirch my family's legacy. He will marry a pureblood befitting his own status."

His eyes flashed menacingly as he leaned forward and stood up off from the old armchair.

"Leave, and I suggest you don't return. Break off your involvement with my son and I'll say no more. Refuse, and I'll do more than scold you," the old man snarled.

The conversation was at an end, and Maerys was more than eager to leave. As she left silently through the library door, she wondered if he might see reason given time to consider the matter. Surely , his son's happiness counted for something ?

The thought was interrupted by the tall, dark shadow that cast itself across her as she stepped into the hallway. Marvolo had clearly been listening to the exchange, perched still in the spot she had left him against the tatty wall.

"I can show myself out," Maerys said, a note of irritation in her voice.

"I don't think you'll be going anywhere just yet, sweet thing."

"What…?"

Maerys gasped, cutting her inquiry short as Marvolo's hand found itself to her neck, his long fingers encircling her throat and squeezing the breath right out of her windpipe. She struggled, clawing at the hand before using the last of her conscious thought to reach for her wand.

"Incarcerous ."

The spell uttered wasn't her own. Her wrists were bound by ropes, summoned from her attacker's wand, twining and squeezing her skin until it burned. His malevolent stare was the last thing she saw before the scene faded to black, her last thought of her lover and soulmate, wondering if she would ever see him again.

Her wand was gone. The thin stick of laurel wood no longer pressed against her hip as she awoke on what appeared to be a cold stone floor. Maerys winced as she moved and found herself still bound, the summoned ropes cutting painfully into her wrists. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room and her head swam uncomfortably from the sudden lack of oxygen, she felt her eyes sting with tears. Thank Merlin, I'm still alive , she thought.

Looking around to get her bearings, she noted the vaulted ceiling and lack of windows, the only light from a conjured flame that sat in a jar too far away to be of any use. She had been bound to a pillar to suppress any notion of escape.

"You're awake, finally. I was beginning to grow bored."

Maerys jumped, pulling an amused cackle from Marvolo's throat as he stepped out of the shadows.

"What are you doing? You know I'm a law enforcement officer, I can have you arrested and sent to Azkaban for this," she spat with false confidence.

Marvolo's face darkened, the smirk falling from his lips as he strode closer to her. Her neck craned painfully to watch his looming figure approach, his wand gripped firmly by his side.

"Are you now? That really doesn't give me an incentive to let you go now, does it?"

Maerys shuddered as the blood rushed from her head and stomach lurched. She'd been trained for this, but at no point had there been an eventuality where she was completely and utterly alone . She should have a partner, or at least someone who knew where she was. She had neither. She needed her wand.

"Why are you doing this?" Maerys asked, almost a whisper, watching Marvolo carefully.

She needed to draw him closer, to see if he held her wand. How she would get it back, she had no idea. One step at a time .

Marvolo took the bait and inched closer, dropping to his knees to survey the defeated look on her face that he'd brought forth with great satisfaction. Her eyes flitted across his broad shoulders and down to his waist, seeing no hint of her wand on his person.

"You muddy our house and then presume to do the same to our family's bloodline," Marvolo growled. "I may despise my brother's weakness but I won't stand for him bringing a mudblood into the fold."

"Ominis is a grown man, he can decide himself who he marries."

Marvolo reached out a long arm and cupped Maerys' cheek as she remained frozen, eyes locked on his with fierce defiance.

"No, my little brother doesn't know what's good for him. No matter how delicious you are, your blood will always be tainted by Muggle filth."

His thumb ran over her bottom lip as he smirked down at her—he was clearly enjoying toying with her. Maerys’ breath quickened as he slipped his digit into her mouth and pressed onto her tongue, pulling a low growl from his throat as she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Her eyes remained impassive, but the tremble in her shoulders gave away her discomfort.

Marvolo’s smirk turned into a devilish grin as he returned to his feet, the colour draining from Maerys’ face as she noticed his obvious arousal whilst he adjusted his trousers. He was enjoying her humiliation, and she knew from Ominis’ description of the sadistic man standing before her that he wouldn’t be sated by simply holding her hostage.

"I think it's time we taught you a lesson in respect. Crucio ."

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Ominis had been doing little but waiting after returning home from work, wondering where Maerys had disappeared to. He initially thought she'd decided to head into Diagon Alley, perhaps meet some friends; but as the hours dragged on the dread settled over him as his mind raced through worst-case scenarios.

Her absence was uncharacteristic. Maerys often made sure to be home when he was, as Ominis did the same—they had so little time together that they made the most of every minute their schedules aligned. The absence of a note was even more concerning, and Ominis had searched every inch of their spare living space for some indication of where she'd gone.

He stood in the living room, twirling his wand in his fingers, deep in thought. He was running out of ideas and he wasn’t one to simply wait, resting on his laurels with dread and uncertainty clouding his mind. He’d contacted her colleagues at the Ministry and any friends he could get hold of, even her numerous cousins had no idea where she was, and showed little concern when Ominis voiced his own.

The final, dreadful thought that crossed his mind was surely too far-fetched to consider. Ominis ran through the previous night, every detail he could remember and word exchanged and landed on the conclusion that where Maerys had found herself was the last place on Earth Ominis would want her.

He could be wrong, and he sincerely hoped he was—though the impromptu visit would raise more questions than he had answers for, he would make some excuse or other; inquiries into his betrothed, perhaps. Ominis holstered his wand, running a hand through his hair with a sigh before striding to the fireplace and finding the pot of floo powder on the mantle. He stepped onto the hearth and threw in the powder, speaking his destination as the green flames enveloped his person, sucking him into the network with an uncomfortable squeezing pull.

He landed with a jolt into silence, not even the soft crackle of a candle filled the room once the floo flames had died away. Ominis pushed his shirt sleeves up and fingered his wand handle and unsheathed it as he made his way through the living room. He knew the manor and its layout, but his wand afforded him an edge in times such as these, as well as being ready for any confrontation should it arise.

“Homenum Revelio ,” he whispered, his wand vibrating at the presence of someone else in the house and the tip drifting downward.

Ominis was on the ground floor, and there was only one thing that lay below him—the cellar. His heart beat rapidly and pace quickened as he made his way through the hallways to the tiny door that led down into the dank underground cavern. To call it a room would be a stretch—once it had been used to store food and wine, when the family had such things in abundance. Now it was used only as a place for Marvolo to indulge his particularly disgraceful proclivities.

There was no way to be subtle about his entrance; the creaky stairs would reveal his presence immediately. The only thing Ominis had was the element of surprise. He pushed the door open and aimed his wand into the room, casting a preemptive shield charm in anticipation of an attack, but was instead greeted with the heart-wrenching sound of muffled sobs.

Ominis ran quicker than he’d ever done before, bounding down the stairs with little regard for who else might hear him, his wand and the gentle gasps guiding his way to a crumpled body on the floor. He dropped to his knees and his free hand drifted shakily over the figure in front of him; a cotton shirt, soft hair, chilled skin and a sliver of fabric, cutting into plush lips.

Ominis threw down his wand and got to work relieving Maerys of her gag, her coughs and unstifled cries filling the cold, damp cellar. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of her being thrown down here for hours whilst he had pointlessly made inquiries into her whereabouts. The tremor in his hand wasn’t from trepidation, it was from pure, unadulterated hate .

“Ominis, my hands,” she gasped.

He found the ropes, grimacing at the slick skin underneath them, the bindings cutting deep enough to draw blood. Once she was freed, she threw herself into Ominis’ arms, clinging to him for dear life as his rage built to almost unmanageable levels.

“What happened, my love? Was this Marvolo’s doing?”

There would be time to ask the question of how she found herself to be in this hellhole, but for now, he needed to know what had occurred. The amount of wrath he brought down on his dear brother would depend on her answer. Maerys continued to grip him tightly, still crouched on the floor as his hands gently stroked her hair and she steadied her breath enough to reply.

“Yes. I shouldn’t have come, I thought…”

“Please, tell me what he did,” Ominis interrupted, picking his wand from the floor and holstering it once again.

She inhaled sharply before answering as Ominis’ stomach clenched painfully.

“He used an unforgivable curse on me. I…he might have used another, I’m not sure. I don’t remember…”

The fact that Maerys was still alive meant that Marvolo had tortured her, her shaking hands testament to the fact—one of the curse’s aftereffects. Ominis’ head swam as he absorbed the last of her answer, imagining all the possibilities of what his brother could have done with her under the influence of the Imperius curse.

Ominis’ ears could scarcely register her continued talking as a blind rage overcame him, the only thought in his mind now one of seeking revenge. He would pay for what he had done if it was the last thing Ominis did, and he fully expected it would be. Ominis’ death would be a small price to pay if he could take Marvolo down with him.

“Ominis?”

Her voice brought him back to the present, and he stood up to help her shakily to her feet. Ominis needed to get Maerys to safety before he could finish his business here.

“Come, there’s a tunnel here that leads to just outside the wards. Can you stand to apparate with me?”

“Yes, I’ll be okay,” she said weakly.

The walk was as quick as they could make it, through the cramped underground path that led to nowhere. It had been used for many things in the past; smuggling, an escape route, a place to hide dark artifacts that his family didn't want to contaminate the manor house. The tunnel had been blocked years ago and never reopened, but Ominis had used it as a hiding place for years whilst he lived here. Marvolo had no idea it existed, and it had become Ominis’ sanctuary from his brother’s provocations.

“Hold on tight, I’ll get you home,” Ominis said gently.

Maerys gripped his bicep and he turned, disapparating and reappearing in the alleyway behind their house. Maerys stumbled and groaned and Ominis held her steady, leading her inside and straight to the sofa where she collapsed.

“I need to take care of this,” Ominis said.

“Please, Ominis, don’t.”

“Darling, if he knows about you he will not let your escape go unpunished.”

Before she could object any further, Ominis had planted a kiss on her forehead and strode out of the door to return to his family home, to exact his revenge.

Ominis crept through the quiet house, constantly on guard. Though his instinct was to shield himself, he knew that it would do little to protect him if he met Marvolo. He cast the charm to reveal human presence once again, ignoring the fainter magical signature in the south wing which was likely his father cooped up in the library. The other was outdoors in the grounds.

Following his wand’s lead, Ominis headed into the cool night air, following the brickwork of the manor house towards the gardens. He had no idea what they now consisted of, only that the once lovingly-planted rows of English roses that lined the gravel path were now overgrown, the thorns prone to catching on clothing. The crunching underfoot wasn’t conducive to a stealthy approach, but Ominis was hoping that Marvolo was too busy indulging in his drug of choice to notice his approach.

The fact that he’d simply left after performing such atrocities on his Maerys only incensed Ominis further; his nails dug painfully into his palms and jaw clenched in intense and righteous anger. He’d often heard people describe this unbridled fury as ‘seeing red’—Ominis found that this state felt like an out of body experience, his actions seemingly made by someone other than himself. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to, and he had absolutely no desire to do so.

Ominis was correct in his assumption and found Marvolo slumped on a bench, half-sedated and doused in the sickly-sweet scent of opium.

“Ah, there he is. Come to reclaim your whore?” Marvolo slurred, making no attempt at moving.

For reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, Ominis smiled in response, knowing precisely what his next move would be. Perhaps his brother’s words had given Ominis the justification for the flick of his wrist that caused a strangled moan from the bench. There was now no stopping him, fuelled by pure hatred, the spells Ominis fired off were unrelenting.

Marvolo scrambled to avoid the attacks and Ominis was sure he was bleeding heavily judging by the limping and groaning.

“Crucio!”

Ominis spun to the right, avoiding the curse and righting himself, firing off a counterattack.

“Confringo!”

The fire that erupted from his wand warmed his skin, blazing through the air and colliding with something definitely not its intended target. Ominis thought that the garden could have been set ablaze, but the thought didn’t bother him as he continued his evasive footwork.

“Cru-”

“Diffindo!”

Ominis’ severing charm hit its target and cut off Marvolo’s curse before he could finish the incantation. The air was quiet, far too quiet, until Ominis heard a strangled cry and horrific bubbling sound. Something wet hit his face and he flinched, the crunching of gravel marking the moment his brother fell to the floor and gasped his last breath.

Ominis inhaled sharply, the beads of liquid rolling down his face and dripping into his parted lips, revealing the unmistakable metallic tang of blood . The pure Gaunt blood. He wondered if any of that mattered—they all bled the same. His brother’s supposedly superior blood still ran down his face and pooled at his feet, his lifeless body lay crumpled on the ground amongst the scented roses. He could have been a Muggle—in death, the power and influence that came with the Gaunt name meant nothing.

He should have been horrified, instead Ominis only felt relief, and a disturbing amount of satisfaction as the raw power coursed through his veins. The immediate threat had passed, but as his mind cleared, his thoughts turned to the other Gaunt still present on the estate. What would he do when he learned of Marvolo’s death? Ominis knew that the only way to keep Maerys safe was to ensure that his father knew exactly what he had done.

First, he had to dispose of the body. The body . Such a detached way to describe one's flesh and blood. Yet, Ominis found it hard to mourn the loss as he cleared the earth next to the manor wall with a flick of his wand. Only when he touched the still-warm arm of his brother did his gut twist and nausea threatened to overwhelm him until he forced himself to breath deep, shaky breaths.

By the time Marvolo was buried, Ominis was caked in dirt and blood, sweating and trembling as he gripped his wand to cast a fire spell, scorching the wall where his brother's makeshift grave lay. He walked in a silent haze to the house, seeking out the man who had just lost the very last of his legacy in a matter of minutes.

Of course Ominis found his father cooped up in his library, none the wiser as to what had occurred. The shocked silence that met Ominis' arrival told him how he must have appeared—the man rarely had nothing to say.

"What…have you done?" Tiberius finally uttered after several moments.

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Maerys. Did you know what Marvolo did, here, in this house?" Ominis asked, his voice quiet and deadly.

"What are you talking about, boy? What have you done? "

Ominis knew then that his father had no inkling of what had happened right under his nose. Too distracted by his own agenda, he'd failed to control his son's impulses as he'd done time and time again. Marvolo's reckless disregard for subtlety and secrecy was always going to be his downfall; only the component of being by Ominis' hand was unexpected.

"Marvolo took her, tortured her, right below your feet," Ominis said coldly, pointing his finger to the floor. "So I buried him. Six feet deep."

"You…you killed your own brother?"

The first time he'd heard fear in his father's voice sent a chill down Ominis' spine, the cloud of rage lifting slightly. What had he done?

"A reminder, father…to not interfere," Ominis whispered with the last of his ability to speak.

He left before his composure broke down, his hands shaking violently as the door slammed behind him and he stumbled back to the fireplace to carry him home. He still tasted the blood on his lips, the sweet smell of the opium lingering in his nostrils. His head pounded and pulse raced, barely noticing that he'd been pulled into the floo flames until he landed in his house to the sound of Maerys' frantic voice.

Ominis fell to the floor, expelling the last of what was left in his stomach onto the floorboards as his shaky arms struggled to keep him from collapsing into it.

"Ominis? Ominis, what happened? Please , answer me," Maerys sobbed, her hands on his back, his cheek, his hair.

He heard her gasp as she realised that the blood wasn't his own.

Maerys had never seen Ominis quite so terrified; his body trembled as he struggled to breathe, unable to tell her what had happened. She had a good idea, especially when she realised that the blood that splattered his face and drenched his shirt wasn't his. It had started to dry, clumping in his hair which fell dishevelled in front of his glazed eyes. Oh Gods, what had he done?

Maerys held him for what seems like hours until he finally formed a sentence, and whilst she'd expected it, the words seemed completely alien coming from Ominis.

"I killed him. My brother is dead and…buried."

"Come with me, let's have a shower and get the…dirt off of you," Maerys said gently.

The water ran brown and red for minutes, Ominis turning the temperature high to almost scalding levels as they huddled under the stream. Ominis was slowly coming out of the shock, the shaking leaving his extremities, whether because of the comforting shower or Maerys' tight embrace she didn't know or care. Once they were scrubbed clean, she led him to their bed and guided him to sit. He put up no fight, nor seemed to register what was happening.

"Ominis, I'm so sorry…I shouldn't have…"

"Don't apologise. I can't bear to think of what he did to you," Ominis whispered.

Maerys sat beside him, watching his pensive expression as droplets of water from his hair ran down his cheeks and dripped onto his bare shoulders. His ivory skin prickled with goosebumps from the chill but he made no attempt to move.

"Your father will never bother us again," Maerys said, fingers pushing the wayward blond strands from his turbulent eyes.

"Because of what I've done. I am the monster I've always been accused of being," he said with a mirthless laugh.

"No, because you've shown him you'll do anything to protect me. I love you so much, Ominis."

"How can you possibly love me after seeing what I'm capable of?"

"How can I not love you? You saved me, Ominis."

Maerys sat behind him, straddling her legs either side of his waist and wrapping her arms around his chest. She kissed the trail of beauty marks on his shoulder that led to his cheek, each press of her lips in rhythm with his heavy breath. His heart beat rapidly against her hands, his skin warming under her touch—both were a reminder that they were alive ; something that Maerys could no longer take for granted.

"I love you, Ominis Gaunt," she whispered into his ear.

"I love you, though I don't deserve yours," Ominis sighed.

Her fingers traced the contours of his chest, following the trail of soft blond hair down to his taut stomach as her lips continued to roam his neck.

"I decide who deserves my love, and I choose you," Maerys whispered against his skin.

Ominis turned and tilted his head towards her, silently asking for more. Maerys obliged by sliding around the bed sheets to face him, lowering herself into his lap and capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. She couldn't have him regret what had happened or doubt her feelings for him—Ominis was her saviour, and she loved him more than she ever thought possible. She told him so with how she clung to his naked form, pressing herself so tightly into him that they might have been one body.

Ominis responded slowly, unsure of whether he deserved such devotion. Their mouths brushed with heavy breaths and Maerys ran her tongue tentatively along his lip. She was met with Ominis' own, their heads instinctively tilting to deepen the kiss as their tongues brushed and lips captured the others'. All residue had been washed from their skins, leaving only Ominis' comforting scent and the lavender soap they'd used—he smelled as he always did, like home .

"Tell me you love me again," Ominis asked gently, placing tender kisses along Maerys' cheek.

"I love you, Ominis. I always will."

Ominis hummed approvingly as his mouth moved to her neck and hands spurred into action, delicate fingers sliding over her bare thighs to gently wrap around her waist. Maerys continued to mutter sweet nothings as he kissed her, his warm skin under her ear sending tingles down her spine and peaking her nipples as they brushed against his chest.

She ached for him—every stroke of his hand and flick of his tongue quickening her pulse and drew soft moans from her mouth. Ominis responded with sounds of adoration, muttering her name as his arousal became apparent underneath her. His growing erection pressed against her soaking wet heat as her hips rocked teasingly to meet him. Ominis' length pressed into Maerys' slick folds and brushed her sensitive nub, and she moaned and gripped his hair as the friction teased the growing tension in her core.

"Oh, fuck ," she gasped, sliding along his length with increasing fervour.

Ominis held her tightly, pulling her down each time she reached his tip, squeezing precum from his swollen head as his lap became increasingly messy, coated in their arousal. Their lips met again, gasps exchanged into each other's mouths as they teased each other senseless, waiting for one of them to give in. It was Maerys who caved first, too eager to show Ominis the full extent of her love and gratitude.

She slid off of his lap with a regretful sigh, her clit swollen and still throbbing for stimulation, but she would gladly forgo her own pleasure to focus on Ominis first. His own groan turned into a whisper of her name and he fell back on the bed as Maerys took his slippery length in her hand. She shuffled down the bed, lining herself up with his tantalisingly swollen head, running her tongue over the weeping tip and moaning as his salty precum covered her tongue.

He tasted delicious , and each swipe of her tongue she tasted herself, only further spurring her on and dizzying her head with arousal. Maerys adored watching Ominis as she bobbed up and down on his cock; the way his mouth gaped as sinful moans filled the air and his pale cheeks flushed a deep pink as she built his orgasm. Her lips wrapped around his girth, taking him further into her mouth with each movement of her head until she found a comfortable rhythm.

Their combined moans and the wet slurping of her mouth filled the room as she worked him into state, Ominis practically writhing underneath her as his cock hit the back of her throat and she concentrated to control her gag reflex. Maerys could have made him finish then, but the moment demanded a greater intimacy, which Ominis seemed to agree with as his hands gently tugged at her hair or lift her off.

"Stop, please. You feel too good," he sighed.

Maerys gave the base of his shaft a final squeeze, her mouth retreating with every drop of his precum she could gather on her tongue. Ominis shuddered, wrapping his own hand over hers, holding her firm grip still as he controlled the urge to finish.

"I want to fill you, but…but not yet."

Maerys' eyes lingered on his cock, his hand finally leaving hers and setting her free to clamber back onto his thighs, Ominis' arms greeting her with a tight embrace as they exchanged a deep, slow kiss. As she pulled back to look at him, her heart skipped a beat when she met his pale blue irises.

Merlin, he was beautiful . She wasn't used to seeing him so vulnerable, so submissive to her. It meant the world to Maerys that Ominis trusted her to hand over control in that moment and let her show him how much he meant to her.

"I'm going to go slowly," she whispered.

Her hand reached down between them, lining his tip up with her soaking entrance and pressing her weight into his lap. She gasped as he stretched her, her walls twitching in anticipation of the fullness his girth would provide. Ominis held her tightly, his face buried in her damp hair that muffled his moans. She stilled once his length was inside her, enjoying the sensation of his stiff erection filling her so satisfyingly as she nibbled on his lower lip.

Ominis' hands roamed her back, skimming her waist and gripping her soft behind, his fingers kneading her flesh as his cock twitched needily inside her.

"You're so warm . You really do feel incredible, my love," Ominis whispered.

Maerys whimpered as his sultry voice filled her ears, the ache between her legs now painful as she longed to feel more of him. With another gentle bite of his lip, she shifted herself slowly forward and back again, giving a small shift of her hips at the bottom of the movement which had Ominis' fingers pressing bruisingly into her cheeks and a growl brewing in his throat.

She did the same again, and again, keeping her eyes on him for every reaction and just to drink in his pleasure. His face was relaxed, flushed and expression utterly blissful as she rode him slowly, humming softly with every breath she took. She brushed her thumb over his moist lips, and he placed a gentle kiss on the digit with a tiny smile which made her heart leap and abdomen flutter. She'd made him smile, even now.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, Ominis," Maerys said, gazing down at him in complete adoration.

Ominis rolled his hips gently to meet her, a high-pitched mewl escaping her mouth as his cock hit deep inside her.

"All that matters is you think so…as I believe you're…perfect, in every way," Ominis replied, moans punctuating his loving words.

The pace Maerys had set had quickened with every thrust Ominis met her with, their kisses and touches growing more needy by the second. Her fingers laced through his hair and one hand braced herself against the bed as she continued to grind on his cock, eyes rolling back into her head as he hit her just right at the bottom.

Maerys knew they wouldn't last much longer, her own orgasm building so quickly with the vigorous thrusts she thought the blood rushing from her head might cause her to faint. She was utterly exhausted, but she couldn't stop now, not when it felt so damn good .

"I'm so close," she sighed, gripping the bed sheet above his head for purchase.

"So am I… f-fuck . Come for me, darling."

"Oh, Ominis…"

Maerys moaned her love's name as she met her sweet release, the waves of pleasure burning her skin as all she heard was the blood pounding in her ears and muffled groans underneath her. She clenched around Ominis' cock, pushing him over the edge with her as he gripped her tightly, hips rolling upwards into her and letting his cum coat her walls with every pulse. They sighed together, exchanging breathy kisses as they rode out their orgasms until Maerys collapsed on top of Ominis, every last drop of energy expended.

They stayed together until their lips were sore and neither could keep their eyes open, muttering their admissions of love and promises as the sun rose and they fell into a deep sleep. Maerys knew that Ominis would do anything to protect her, as she'd known from the moment he had first told her he loved her. Now she knew that particular truth would haunt him, and that she would spend every day keeping him safe from his demons, and she would do it gladly.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x oc #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt smut

87 notes · View notes

9800sblog · 11 months

Text

Pick a card tarot reading - which TV show and movie are you and your friends in?

can be your next friendgroup too!

-> let's talk about your dynamics with others and the contexts you and your friends are inserted; do you have a potential lover in your friendgroup? can you identify who is your closest friend there? what are the possible next events? which TV show and movie would you love to watch right now?

-> this is exclusively my interpretation of what tarot cards showed me through energy reading, I could be wrong, take only what you think makes sense to you and message me if you have any questions! ^^

let's get into it!!!!

pick your pile

from up to down: Pile 1 (The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You - My Chemical Romance), Pile 2 (Flashing Lights - Kanye West, Dwele), Pile 3 (Would've, Could've, Should've - Taylor Swift)

Pile 1

South Park and Harry Potter

the existence of your group in itself is odd, you're all totally different, but share something in common that bonds you. your group follows some sort of structure, likely meeting at school everyday and/or living nearby each other and have been/will be together during your formative years (childhood and teen years). you will always see these people as your home, even if just through nostalgia, you go through unimaginable adversities together. you resolve problems with unkindness and you always get away with stuff. overall, lots of people don't like y'all because you're all self absorbed, but someone in the group specifically, probably the "leader", thinks they're somehow special and that drives outsiders crazy. your group is the outcasts who think they are popular and are given special treatment from people in power. you guys dare to be different and act the way your intuition says to act, you're not worried about acting the way you're expected or "supposed" to act because you think people like that are dumb, you have childlike souls. your intentions are pure and you're just trying to live your life with fun and without worry, if anyone gets in the way of that, a fight is sure to happen. this group is totally platonic.

Pile 2

The Good Place and The Craft

this is my spiritual friend group! you hang out to practice things, you're a team, this might be a literal sports team working on their team spirit. the leader of this group is a liar! I wouldn't trust them. this group doesn't or hasn't worked well together because people are/were acting selfishly; secrets, gossips and arguments, the minute you guys identify and end the manipulations, this team will be stronger than ever! happy individuals and an unbreakable bond. of course it won't be easy! there is so much hard work required, many discussions and ugly endings, but teamwork is the dream work. this might require you to kick someone out. you guys have a spiritual connection, work on being better people for your own selves and you'll have a revolutionary relationship, life-changing stuff that will help many others.

Pile 3

The Office and Clueless

brought together by the most soul crushing responsibilities, you guys work so well together because you respect each other's individuality. you make everyday life fun by exploring different outcomes of boring events, you don't wanna be stuck where you are so you try to push each other to go out of their comfort zones and y'all pretty imature when you're together! your work may be mediocre but who cares? it doesn't matter! you follow your passions in other ways anyways, these are just annoying obligations. your connections are fulfilling and make you happy, you find comfort in them, you're so similar, yet so different, with different backgrounds and stories. you may find that romance you've been dreaming of in your friend group!! best friends to lovers :D (please don't date your "ex" step brother)

#tarot #free tarot #tarot game #pick a card #pac tarot #tarot online #tarot community #pick a pile #pick a deck #pick a picture #pick a photo #personality test #south park #harry potter #the craft #the office #clueless #the good place

65 notes · View notes

ereardon · 1 year

Text

My Girl [Chapter 3][Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife?

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 3K

Warning: Age gap, cursing, smut

Series masterlist here

Please fill out this form here to join my tag list

When you showed up to work, there was a bouquet of white roses and calla lilies on your desk. You immediately recognized Jake's handwriting on the small card tied to the glass vase.

Happy one month anniversary, Natalie. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.

Love,

Jake

“Shut up,” Rebecca whined, rounding the corner to your desk and spotting the flowers. You flushed. “God, I hate you sometimes. Maybe not hate. Just jealous of your life.”

You laughed and dropped the card into your purse. “You're lucky with Harris. He’s good to you and he loves you.”

“He’s never once sent me flowers at work,” she countered. “That’s some old school shit.”

“Jake is different,” you said softly. “He’s not like any other guy I’ve dated.”

“He’s a man,” Rebecca added. “I think the expectations are different. On both sides.”

“What do you mean?”

You had told her about how Jake had to cancel Ellie’s birthday, and that you two had decided to take it slow, both with meeting Ellie and with sex. What you hadn’t told her was that he hadn’t slept with anyone since his late wife. That felt like a personal detail you weren’t at liberty to share.

“I mean he’s probably expecting more of you than any other twenty-something guy would.” Rebecca crossed her deep bronze legs and you watched as a first-year associate drooled over her from afar before scampering away when you caught his lusty gaze and frowned. She was the only black woman on the legal team, and only one in a handful of people of color in the entire office, something the both of you were trying to remedy now that you had say in the new hires brought in at the graduate level. Rebecca had a way of making men twice her age give up without a fight, something that was highly irregular in law, and you admired her deeply for it. She also terrified the interns and first years, which never ceased to make you laugh.

“Like what?” you asked.

“Like commitment,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “The man is in his thirties. He’s a widower with a kid. He sounds like the commitment type. He doesn’t want to run around and chase ass all day. A man who sends these,” she skimmed a rose petal with one long nail, “is in it for the long haul.”

Your stomach did somersaults. The longest relationship you had been in was with Sam, for two years. And you had never once imagined marrying him. You tipped your head back against the chair. “I like him a lot. He’s smart and gorgeous and kind. But I’m not sure if I’m ready to make such a big decision like that.” You looked up at Rebecca. “I’m twenty-six for Christ’s sake. I should be doing Coyote Ugly at a bar, not spending Saturday nights putting together book reports.”

Rebecca laughed. “She’s four, not fourteen.”

“See? I don’t know anything about kids!”

“I have eight nieces and nephews,” she said. “Trust me, all you have to do is listen to their games and stories and act interested in them and you’re golden.”

“I don’t want to lose him,” you said after a moment, staring at the vase of flowers. “I think he’s right for me. I’m just scared that I’m not right for him.”

Rebecca stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “He sounds smart. I don’t think he would do all of this,” she swept her hand toward the flowers, “if he outright thought you weren’t a fit. Trust your gut.”

***

The one time you had thought about having kids, you were staring at an unopened pregnancy test on the bathroom counter.

When you looked up into the mirror, your face was ashen. Your hands shook as you ripped the white foil package, pulled out the plastic stick and sat down to pee.

It was the first semester of 3L. You had just finished interning with Smith & Hobart, and had a finance job lined up for after graduation. Sam was still searching for a job. The two of you had taken a trip at the end of the summer to Maine and stayed in a tiny cabin outside of Kennebunkport, eating lobster rolls and going kayaking at dusk and drinking endless bottles of Sancerre and one morning you had woken up with the terrible realization that the night before he had been too drunk to get the condom on and you had said fuck it and now you were eleven days late.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

You were meant to get a white collar law job and buy a starter house in Alexandria or outside Sacramento. Sign a lease on a new Lexus sedan, bring home a boy to Thanksgiving, watch your mother fawn over him while your father ushers him into the study for a cigar and to grill him on his likely nonexistent knowledge of tax law. You were meant to sit excitedly in the OB/GYN office, diamond band sparkling on your left hand as your fingers traced the subtle swell of your stomach.

You weren’t meant to get pregnant at twenty-four with a guy you were certain wasn’t the one. He was the one for now, and that had been enough.

Until it wasn’t.

You wanted to be a mother in the way that lots of young girls yearn to have someone to care after. Someone to dress up in baby clothes. Someone to love you unconditionally.

But you weren’t ready. The idea of failing someone so small, so dependent, terrified you.

After two minutes you flipped it over and slid to the floor, back pressed tightly against the wooden cabinet beneath the sink, tears flooding your eyes. You could barely choke back the sob that rose out of your throat.

It was negative.

It was what you wanted. So why was there an ache somewhere deep inside your chest that you couldn’t quite place?

***

“What are you doing next weekend?” Jake asked, twirling strands of spaghetti onto his fork.

You took a sip of wine. The restaurant was quiet. Not many people ate dinner past eight o’clock in the area. “No plans,” you replied, stabbing a blob of mozzarella with your fork. “Why?”

“Let’s go away together,” Jake said and you looked up with surprise.

“What about Ellie?”

“She’s spending the weekend with her grandparents,” he replied, smiling. “They’re taking her to Disney.”

“Oh that’s sweet,” you said softly.

“So what do you think?” Jake reached across the table and pulled your hands into his. “Anywhere you want. I have a few places in mind, but I want to hear what you think.”

You grinned. “Of course, I’d love to.”

He smiled and you saw the relief flood his handsome face. “I’ll plan it all. You just show up and look as beautiful as you always do.”

You loved this about him. How he took charge and made plans. It was such a deviation from all the other guys you had ever known. Your heart swelled at that moment. He was the kind of guy who would never let you down.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Do you want it to be a surprise, or are you anti-surprise?” he asked.

“I like surprises,” you replied. “Just tell me what dress code to pack for.”

“I like that about you,” Jake said, putting his card down seamlessly when the waiter came around with the bill. He thanked him and then turned his grin to you. “You’re so easy going. I bet you get along with everyone.”

You laughed and Jake held out his hand after signing the check to help you out of your seat. His fingers pressed tightly into your lower back as Jake guided you out of the restaurant. You stopped at the silver Range Rover, leaning back against the door and reaching out, pulling Jake in closer. It was a warm night, perhaps the last good weather before fall crept in, and you breathed in Jake’s cologne as he leaned over you, one hand on either side of your head, gripping the roof of the truck.

“Tell me what you’re thinking in that pretty little head,” he whispered softly.

You dragged one hand down his chest from his shoulders, across his abdomen, down to his belt buckle and watched a small tent form in Jake’s pants. He looked up at you, breathless. When you leaned forward, you grazed your lips against his. “I’m thinking about how much I’d love some dessert,” you murmured seductively in his ear.

Jake laughed and pulled you into a firm kiss before reaching for the door handle and opening the door for you. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you some ice cream.”

***

Taking it slow with Jake wasn’t easy. Not when he’d slide into a parking spot in front of the townhouse in his Range Rover, sunglasses perched perfectly on his nose, opening the passenger side door, taking your hand to help you up.

It wasn’t easy to sit across from him at dinner, or out on the front porch, and watch him talk enthusiastically with his hands and not wonder what they would feel like trailing up your thighs, wrapped around your hips as you ground your cunt against his open mouth.

No, waiting to sleep with Jake was proving to be more difficult than you had thought. You felt like a horny college freshman, just eagerly awaiting that one person who would agree to go home with you one night when they were slightly too drunk.

So when Jake’s hand slid onto your upper thigh while you were watching a movie on the couch in your townhouse, you looked over at him with surprise. One of his friends was babysitting Ellie. Jake had insisted on making you dinner at home — fried chicken and salad — and you had quickly agreed. When you had asked how late he could stay and he smiled, you suggested turning on the movie.

It hadn’t occurred to you what that smile had meant until the moment Jake’s fingers started to burn through the fabric of your leggings.

“Jake?” you murmured softly and he pulled his eyes away from the screen where Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey were playing cards in Staten Island.

“What is it, Sugar?” he asked.

Your thumb grazed his hand. “I know we’re taking it slow, and I completely understand why. But I want to know what you need from me.”

Jake’s fingertips dug a little harder into your leg. You watched him swallow nervously. “I want you. Desperately. It’s just, it’s been a long time,” he said after a moment. "Trust me, I think about you naked all the time."

Slowly, you reached up and stroked one hand down his cheek, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. Jake’s hand left your thigh and gripped your neck softly as he kissed you back, gentle but dominant.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured softly and you smiled against his lips before pulling back, sliding off the couch and kneeling in front of him between his legs. You watched Jake’s eyes widen as you trailed your hands down his shirt, undoing the buttons and kissing from his collarbone down his chest until you reached the trail of hair around his belly button.

“Is this OK?” you whispered, looking up at him. He nodded wordlessly, both of his hands cemented to his thighs. Your fingers found the clasp of his belt and you looked up at him again. “Can I?” Another nod. You undid the belt buckle, pulling it off and tossing it next to the couch on the ground, fingers tugging down the zipper. Underneath, you could feel how hard he was in his chinos and you pulled the zipper all the way down, eyes locked on Jake’s the entire time. “I can stop,” you said quietly. “Just tell me.”

Jake shook his head. “No, please, don’t stop.”

With his approval, you slid your fingers around the waist of his pants and boxers, pulling them down. Jake lifted his hips to help, and the two of you chuckled as he struggled to pull each leg off without hitting you where you knelt between his legs. Finally, he tossed the discarded pants to the floor, and settled back on the couch as you gasped at his hard cock. It was so stiff it bobbed when he shifted his legs.

Jake’s eyes were trained on yours, his hands at his sides. Leaning forward, you smoothed your hands up his thighs from his knees to his hips.

“You OK baby?” you whispered softly.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jake said quietly. “If you don’t want to. I know a lot of women don’t like to.”

You smirked and reached out, grabbing the base of his hard cock with your hand. Jake gasped, growing harder in your hand. “Trust me, I fucking want to.”

He leaned back as you shifted forward, swiping your tongue across his tip, licking the precum from the thick, red head of his cock. Jake groaned and fluttered his eyes closed, and you placed your other hand on his thigh, leaning down and licking from his balls to his tip as he twitched in your hand. He was salty and enormous, and you were sure your panties were soaked just from touching him and hearing the soft noises he made as you licked him.

Finally, you looked up, locking eyes with Jake, and then took him into your mouth, pushing until he was all the way in the back of your throat.

“Shit!” Jake moaned and you felt his thick cock stirring in your mouth. “Oh my fucking God.”

With both hands on the base of his cock, you began to bob up and down, keeping your tongue flat against the underside of his cock before flicking it in a circle around the tip and then taking him again into the back of your mouth and throat as Jake groaned and moved his hands to your head, gathering your hair together.

“Fuck, baby,” he whined. “God that feels so good.”

After a minute, you felt him tugging and pushing on your head, setting the rhythm. Saliva began to drip out of the corners of your mouth, the quick pace and spit mixing together to create an obscenely loud cacophony, along with Jake’s unabashed moans. He was so large your jaw was beginning to tire. One of your hands trailed up his chest while the other remained wrapped around the base of his cock, and you heard his breath get raspier, more desperate.

“Shit, baby, I’m close,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can pull out if you want me to.”

You tried to say no, but it came out strangulated on his cock with all of the saliva. Instead, you pressed your fingers into his chest, catching his eye and Jake’s hand that wasn’t in your hair came out to grip yours on his chest. He squeezed your fingers and you watched his eyes roll back into his head as you took him deeper in your mouth.

“Fuck, oh my God, holy shit!” he cried out and you felt the hot stream of cum shoot into the back of your mouth and your throat. Breathing through your nose, Jake’s hand still gripping yours tightly against his muscular abdomen, you pulled your mouth along his dick slowly, milking him until you got to the tip, licking him clean before swallowing.

Jake released your hand and you sat back on trembling knees, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Was that OK?” you asked after a moment. He was silent, sitting back against the couch with a dazed expression, cock still hard but no longer throbbing. “Jake?”

“Come here,” he said gruffly and you pushed yourself off of the floor, straddling him and placing your hands on his shoulders. Jake tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his green eyes piercing yours. “That was fucking amazing,” he whispered and you smiled. “But I hope you didn’t do it because you thought I expected it of you or anything. Because I didn’t.”

You shook your head and chuckled. “Honey, I wanted to.” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about doing that for weeks now.”

Beneath you, Jake twitched and you instinctively ground down against him. He groaned, hands on your hips, holding you flush with him. “Fuck, you have no idea how much you turn me on,” he said softly. Jake pressed his lips to your neck and you fell forward, kissing his shoulder, hands threaded through his hair. “I want all of you. Soon, I promise. But tonight, I just want to hold you until I have to go.”

You drew back and nodded, sliding off of his lap and he pulled his pants and boxers back on, opening his arms and you slid into his embrace easily. Jake kissed your temple as you tossed one arm across his broad chest.

“What are you thinking?” Jake whispered softly, running one hand through your hair as you laid against his chest.

“How sweet you are,” you murmured. “How I’ve never met a guy like you before.”

Jake was silent for a moment. He had a tendency to go quiet, pensive. Sometimes it made you worried he was mad at you. But you were beginning to realize it was just how he was. He needed time and space to think. He wasn’t the kind of guy who simply filled empty air just to fill it. “I care about you a lot, Natalie. I hope you know that. This, us, isn’t something I take lightly.”

His fingers dug into your side.

“Nat?” he whispered after a moment. “Honey?” There was a sense of urgency, anxiety in Jake’s voice. You knew what he thought. That you were going to bolt. He saw you as someone young and flighty.

“I’m falling for you too, Jake,” you murmured against his chest and felt his sight of relief as your words filled the small living room.

You were falling in love with Jake Seresin. And that terrified you.

Tag list: @xoxabs88xox @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @novagreen04 @townmoondaltwistle @rosiahills22 @indynerdgirl @entertainmentgal8 @misshoneypaper @topguncultleader @amortentiadrops @double-j @hangmandruigandmav @momc95 @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @blue-aconite @brehonodea @crthurston @angelbabyange @jason-toddsthighs @secretsicanthideanymore @entertainmentgal8 @starkleila @boringusername3 @mandylove1000 @lilyevanswhore @mizzzpink @showmethewayhomehoney @lovingjakeseresin @tiredqueen73 @sadpetalsstuff @tvjunkie08 @mygyn @wkndwlff @xomrsalliej4787xo @shanimallina87 @louie28 @oneelleandaneye

#jake hangman imagine #jake hangman fic #jake seresin #jake hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman series #hangman fluff #hangman smut #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x oc #series #smut #jake x oc #hangman x oc

261 notes · View notes