#gaunt manor

[passiveslthrn]

Commission

A cover for fan fiction

[nexeliam]

Since I decided to add pictures to my fanfiction some time after I started puslishing it, I need to catch up a bit for some of them !

It's a bit late, but here is the image from chapter 1 of "THE BLIND WIZARD - The curse of the lake" ! (also, a revamp of the intro drawing)

I wish you all a happy New Year Eve !

[oneofafew]

I found it. I found GAUNT MANOR

[bloodandlegacy]

XX: Gaunt

It’s time.

I’ve spent half the summer preparing for this moment, honing the spells that will ensure I succeed. Practicing Unforgivables on the others at the orphanage wasn’t difficult—they’re so weak-minded, so docile, so beneath me. Muggles have no place in my world. They never did.

The time for waiting, for planning, is over. I’ve gathered what I need, pieced together her location, and now I know exactly where that squib is. The woman who tried to strip away my magic, who broke me over and over. She’ll answer for her sins today.

The jail in Gloucestershire looms ahead as I Apparate just beyond its iron gates. It’s not Azkaban, but something about the place feels eerily familiar. The heavy air, the stone walls steeped in despair—it’s enough to send flashes of my father’s face through my mind. His haunted eyes. The madness that consumed him.

For a moment, I hesitate, the pit in my stomach twisting into something almost unbearable. But I push it down, bury it with the rest of my fear. This isn’t the time for second-guessing. I came here for justice, and I won’t falter.

Inside, the air is thick with hopelessness, the kind that clings to you, seeping into your skin. The damp chill, the oppressive silence—it’s suffocating.

The thought twists like a knife in my chest, sharp and unexpected. My father—rotting away in that forsaken place, condemned as a monster, a madman unfit to live among decent wizards. They didn’t care that he was innocent. He was easy to put away—marked by the Gaunt name, branded a Parselmouth, burdened by a bloodline they had already written off as madness incarnate. What did they see when they looked at him? Not a man, but a convenient scapegoat, someone who could bear the sins of others without question.

They didn’t see the chains he was born into, the way his own father twisted and broke him before the world ever had a chance. He wasn’t mad; he was broken. Just like me.

I clutch my wand tighter, the thought burning in my chest. My father’s suffering wasn’t his fault, and neither was mine. But unlike him, I refuse to let the world cage me, to let the weight of my bloodline or my pain dictate my future.

I force myself forward, the echo of my footsteps swallowed by the oppressive silence. The cell is just ahead, and with every step, my resolve hardens. This isn’t about the past. This is about reclaiming what was taken from me.

And then I see her.

She’s older, weaker than I remember, but her eyes still hold that same cruelty. The same disdain she always had when she looked at me. She’s sitting in the corner of her cell, her magicless existence etched into every weary line on her face.

The guards don’t see me. A few whispered incantations, and I’m invisible to their Muggle eyes.

When I step into her line of sight, her gaze sharpens, a sneer forming on her lips.

“So, the little freak found her way back,” she spits, her voice dripping with contempt. “What’s the matter? Still looking for someone to blame for your pathetic existence?”

Her words hit like a slap, but they don’t sting the way they once did. I’ve heard them all before. She only sees the girl she tormented standing before her now. She doesn’t see the power I’ve become.

I step closer, my voice calm, steady. “Do you know what your greatest mistake was?” I ask.

Her sneer deepens. “Letting you live.”

A cold smile spreads across my face. “No. It was underestimating me.”

Her laughter is sharp, bitter. “You think you’ve won, but you’ll always be a curse. Do you even know what you are? What you’ve done?”

She leans forward, her voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “Cassiopeia and I were friends once. Best friends. I promised her I’d take care of you—of the parasite that killed her. She adored you, you know. Believed you’d be something special. But I saw the truth.”

Her gaze sharpens, pure hatred blazing in her eyes. “You killed her, you little wretch. She might have survived if it weren’t for you. You drained the life out of her before you even opened your eyes. And I took you in—out of pity. But you weren’t worth it. You never were.”

The words hit harder than I expect, dredging up a storm of grief, anger, and something darker that churns deep inside me. My mother. The only faint glimmer of warmth in a life so filled with cold. And this woman—this vile, twisted woman—has the audacity to blame me? To speak her name and taint it with lies?

I step closer, my voice low and steady, each word laced with cold fury. “You don’t deserve to say her name. You don’t deserve to remember her.”

“Crucio.”

Her sneer collapses into a grimace of pain, the first crack in her façade.The flicker of unease in her eyes is a fleeting triumph, but it isn’t enough—not yet. My grip tightens on my wand, the weight of it grounding me, its tip steady and unyielding as I level it at her chest.

The air between us thickens, crackling with an energy I can’t quite contain. From behind me, I feel it stir—dark, writhing, alive. The shadows stretch and twist, curling like smoke, filling the room with a suffocating presence.

The Obscurus.

It unfurls slowly at first, tendrils of darkness creeping along the walls, pooling at my feet, then spreading with a force that makes the air itself seem to shudder. It moves as though it has a mind of its own, a will that mirrors my fury, my pain. The chains of smoke coil and twist around her, pinning her to the wall like a prisoner awaiting judgment.

Her sneer is gone now, replaced by something I’ve never seen in her before: fear. Real, raw fear.

“What is this?” she rasps, her voice cracking as she struggles against the smoky restraints. The chains tighten, and the room hums with the dark energy spilling from me, from it.

The darkness isn't just mine; it is me. It moves with purpose, unspoken yet understood, a mirror of everything I've endured and everything I’ve become.

I don’t answer. I don’t need to. The Obscurus seems to understand, responding to my emotions, my anger, my need to make her suffer as she made me suffer. It presses closer, the tendrils tightening like a vice, and for the first time, I feel it—its strength, its power, its hunger.

It wants her, I realize. It wants to consume her, to take from her what she took from me.

For a moment, I falter. The rage surging through me fights with the faintest flicker of doubt. But then I remember her words, her cruelty, her lies. I remember the years of torment, the scars she left—on my skin, on my soul.

She deserves this.

The chains of smoke tighten around her, muffling her screams, silencing her hate. My wand stays raised, steady and sure, but it’s the darkness itself that holds her now.

I step back, lowering my wand just slightly, letting the Obscurus surge forward. This is its moment, its revenge. After all, she created this in me—the monster she feared, the darkness she fed with every strike, every cruel word. Now, she’ll face it.

Her defiance crumbles, her sneer replaced by terror, and for the first time, I see her as she truly is: powerless.

She tried to destroy me, to make me small, but all she did was birth this. The Obscurus isn’t a curse—it’s mine. My pain, my anger, my will, all brought to life. A reflection of everything she tried to take from me, now turned against her.

I don’t resist it. I don’t need to. This is justice. The Obscurus moves as though it knows what I want, what I need. It presses closer, suffocating her hate, consuming the very thing that made her who she was.

For the first time, I don’t feel fear. I let it be what it was always meant to be: the reckoning she deserves.

I raise my wand again, the weight of it a perfect match for the fury coursing through me. 

“Crucio.”

Her screams tear through the cell, raw and unfiltered, but they barely reach me. The sound doesn’t satisfy me—it’s hollow, empty, like an echo of what she truly deserves. The chains of smoke tighten around her, the Obscurus responding to my unspoken will, amplifying the pain.

Her body trembles, her breath coming in ragged gasps as I lower my wand, stepping closer, my voice cutting through the haze with cold precision. “You blamed me for her death, but she chose wrong when she trusted you. You were the mistake. And now, you’ll be nothing. Forgotten. Just like the waste of a life you’ve led.”

Her lips part as if to respond, but no words come. There’s nothing she can say now that would change this moment, nothing that could undo the years of torment she inflicted on me. The spell is already on my lips, rising from the depths of my soul, unshakable in its resolve.

“Avada Kedavra.”

The green light floods the cell, consuming her entirely, and then—silence. The kind of silence that feels like it could swallow the world whole.

I lower my wand slowly, my hand steady despite the weight of what I’ve just done. The chains of smoke retreat, curling back around me like a protective shroud. The Obscurus hums with satisfaction, its presence fading but not gone, as if it understands that its purpose here is fulfilled.

She’s gone. The woman who tried to break me, who created this darkness within me, is nothing now. Her existence—her hate, her cruelty—snuffed out as though it had never been.

The Obscurus lingers in the air, a shadow of what it was moments ago, but I feel it within me still—calm, steady, a reminder of the power I wield. It’s mine. And now, it’s hers no longer.

Power surges through me, electrifying and consuming. For the first time, I feel the full weight of the spell—not just its finality, but its potency. It doesn’t feel wrong. It feels right. As if all the rage, the pain, the injustice I’ve endured has finally found its voice.

I don’t feel triumph. I don’t feel sorrow. What I feel is a cold, quiet sense of balance. The scales have tipped. The wound she inflicted on me—on my soul—has been stitched shut, not healed, but bound tightly enough that it no longer festers.

Her death doesn’t erase the scars she left behind, but it takes away her power. The things she did to me, the words she hissed in the darkness—they no longer hold weight. She can’t hurt me anymore.

As I turn to leave, the air in the cell feels lighter, as if the oppression she carried with her has evaporated. The stone walls no longer feel so suffocating. With each step I take, I feel stronger. Not freer, but unshackled.

The image of my father flickers in my mind—his gaunt face, his hollow eyes. He spent years rotting away in Azkaban, haunted by the ghosts of his past. I’m not him, I remind myself. His madness was born from a life he couldn’t escape. I’m not trapped like he was.

I’m not bound by his mistakes or anyone else’s.

I step out of the prison, the chill of the outside air biting at my skin. The sky above is gray, heavy with clouds, but there’s a clarity to it I hadn’t noticed before. The world feels sharper, more defined.

This isn’t vengeance. It never was.

This was about making her answer for what she did—for what she took from me, for what she tried to destroy. She thought she could make me powerless, but all she did was fuel the strength I carry now.

Justice is cold, they say. But so is power. And now, I know I am both.

I straighten my back, my head held high as I take a deep, steadying breath.

The Gaunt name was my father’s curse, my mother’s shame, and my burden for so long. But today, it’s my triumph.

I reclaim it not out of duty or fear, but because I’ve made it mine. And with it, I will carve a legacy that is entirely my own.

[sephie22]

I had to ask...👀

Gaunt Portraits in Haunted Hogsmeade?

I am an Xbox player, so I only recently got to play the Haunted Hogsmeade quest. Before that, I avoided it like the plague because I didn’t want any spoilers. The other day I was watching a clip I recorded and a portrait caught my attention.

I had seen posts in the past that said that Gaunt Manor is mentioned in the game files, and I am 100% convinced, these portraits are ones dropped from Gaunt Manor.

Or perhaps, this entire room?

The portraits are found here. And because Ominis playing piano is practically canon, the piano definitely fits.

This portrait, is the one that originally caught my attention.

Like… tell me those don’t look like two little Gaunts. Specifically, Marvolo (left) and Ominis (right).

Imma break this one down because the more I look at it, the more I’m 100% convinced.

Here are a close up of their faces, and the first thing that struck me were their noses. They look JUST like Ominis’.

But also, THE MOLES!!!

Like!!! Compare the right boy’s moles to Ominis.

Anyway, here are the other portraits in the hall and what I think they could be.

I am convinced this is Aunt Noctua

This could either be Ominis’s mom and potential sister, or, since it is across from the above portrait, it could be a younger picture of Noctua with Ominis’s grandmother.

Now this portrait isn’t in this hall, but it screamed Gaunt to me. I used it to be Ominis’s dad in my video, but the attire is probably too old? Honestly, none of the attire could be time accurate to my theory because I am not familiar with the mid to late 1800s.

Okay, I reached the 10 picture limit, but let me know what you think!

[witchyafterdark]

It's very easy — and very disheartening — to come to the conclusion that Ominis was the "token Gaunt" of this game because the developers might have thought that it would be cool to have a character with a very powerful and infamous name; and to have him be the opposite of what that name stands for. But i think it's lousy and convenient for the writers to kill him off by 1925 just in time for Voldemort's birth.

Sad hour thoughts. I just wished that if we got a sequel or DLC, we get to see the actual Gaunt Manor, where it is and how Ominis is.

[thebibliosphere]

I’m ill and miserable so I’m tinkering with my Pennyworth universe fics and giving myself emotions about Patricia Wayne, of all people.

Non-Pennyworth fans can scroll on if you want, but do we think, just for a moment, that Bruce might adopt his party boy persona a little bit from his Aunt Pat?

I do. I think he looked at his bottle blonde auntie with her giant sunglasses, ditzy demeanor, cigarette always in hand, rumored to have a coke spoon up her sleeve, and a different lover ever week and saw someone sad and hurting but also someone smart enough to put up the exact kind of facade that lets her maneuver through their world, this high society minefield of gossip, judgement and scrutiny, and force people to look the other way out of sheer mortified scandal.

“Did you hear what Patricia Wayne got up to last week?”

“No, tell me.”

She’s all anyone can talk about. This ditzy socialite heiress with her too blonde hair and her too short dresses. Too loud, too bold, too much.

But none of them really know her.

The real her—the auntie with the sad eyes and the biggest smile who used to show up out of nowhere and take him for ice cream in the middle of the school day much to Martha’s annoyance.

The auntie who used to stand behind his father and mimic his serious facial expressions just to make Bruce laugh.

The auntie who showed up to the school run one time looking like a Christmas tree, hair still in foils from the salon because Alfred got detained and when Tommy called to ask she left before the hairdresser had a chance to take them out.

His Auntie Pat who lets him ask questions about the sister he never met and who everyone else is too sad to talk about.

Patricia Wayne who appears at Wayne Manor the moment she heard about Tommy and Martha’s deaths, looking pale and gaunt, aged about a hundred years in the time it took to drive from New York to Gotham because while flying might have been quicker, driving let her scream and howl her grief out because Bruce is a quiet child who needs quiet words and Patricia has never been very good at that but for him she’ll do it. She’ll rip her vocal cords out to give him the quiet solace he needs if that’s what it takes.

Patricia Wayne who signs over full custody to Alfred Pennyworth the moment she can because she loves Bruce but knows herself well enough to know that she’d be a terrible co-parent but also because it makes her want to jump into Gotham harbor with stones in her pockets seeing Tommy looking up at her from behind his eyes.

Auntie Pat who dips in and out of his adolescence like a lightning strike, teaches him how to act and move and glide through the world his parents tolerated and Alfred only knows how to interact with from the sidelines.

Teaches him how to flirt and charm and smile, how to be a darling of the press while never giving anything away.

Auntie Pat who catches him hiding in his parents old bedroom at a party, looking at himself in Martha’s old mirror and listens to the heartbreak in his voice when he admits he can see Martha’s features fading in his face as his jaw squares out. Pat pierces his ear for him, holding a needle over a flame, so he can wear one of Martha’s earrings, Thomas’s cufflinks on his wrists.

Patricia Wayne who watches him start to bulk out. Sees the bruises and cuts that definitely don’t come from polo practice or whatever the fuck Bruce claims they’re from.

Patricia Wayne who looks Alfred dead in the eye when a caped crusader begins stalking the streets of Gotham and remarks loudly at a party that she has no idea where Bruce has got to, but if she had to guess, he’s been detained by a pretty face. You know how Tommy was at his age, the apple never falls far from the tree…

She’ll never ask, and Alfred will never tell, but she’s always got an alibi ready.

Bruce was with her the whole time, officers. Batman? Don’t be absurd. He’s a Wayne. What kind of family do you think they are? Why, you might as well accuse her dearly departed brother of being a secret agent for the government. His wife too while you’re at it. Honestly, the nerve…

Patricia Wayne who coos sweetly at eight year old Dick but tells him quite seriously if he ever calls her “Great Aunt Patricia” ever again she’s taking the toaster for a bath.

She hasn’t had this much work and Botox done for nothing, thank you very much.

I dunno man. I just want him to have someone in his life that when the Brucie Wayne persona jumps out the whole of upper Gotham goes, “oh, he got those Wayne genes. Oh okay. Carry on.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Angst duke au where reader ends up running away on her own accord. She’s got a wild spirit on the inside and it can’t be contained any longer. They already pay her no attention, nobody notices she’s left until half a month passes.

She finds a small, small village eventually and lives a cottagecore life collecting mushrooms and being showered in attention by a fellow villager (König) that spoils her rotten

Dukedom au masterlist

It happens without ceremony, just as quietly as you’ve lived these past months. You’ve given it enough thought to know this is what you want, but not so much as to paralyze yourself with doubt. There’s nothing left for you here- no affection, no companionship, no purpose. You’ve tried everything, haven’t you? Every word unsaid, every gesture rebuffed, every quiet hope dashed. If there’s nothing here but loneliness, then it’s time to seek something else. If you stay here any longer, you know you will rot away, unloved and unwanted.

And so, you leave with only a satchel. A plain cloak, a coin pouch, and a few essentials- the duchy’s wealth was never truly yours, and you feel no guilt leaving it behind. The manor is dark when you pass through its cold halls one last time, its silence now strangely soothing.

No one stirs as you open one of the less used back doors, no one watches as you step out into the cool night air. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way down the long road leading away from the estate, and you don’t look back. Not once.

You don’t keep track of how long you walk, only that the world seems to grow softer, warmer, with every step you take. You hadn’t even noticed how much life had been sucked out of you until you’ve left.

The grand estates and meticulous gardens of the duchy fade into rolling hills and dense forests. Villages dot the landscape here and there, but you don’t linger in any of them. You’re not looking for a crowd or a bustling town. You want quiet. Solitude. A place where you can breathe and exist without being watched or judged or resented.

It’s tiresome weeks before you find it: a tiny village nestled at the foot of a forest. It’s so small you almost miss it, hidden away among the trees and wildflowers, but when you step onto the dirt path leading into the cluster of cottages, you feel something you haven’t felt in years-

Peace.

The villagers are kind in a way that catches you off guard. They greet you with smiles even despite your messy appearance, not because they’re obligated to, but because they seem genuinely pleased to see you.

An older woman tuts at the state of you and offers you warm, fresh bread from her oven, sitting you down in her home. A farmer waves as you pass by. No one stares too long or whispers behind their hands. No one asks intrusive questions. It’s such a sharp contrast to the stifling scrutiny of the duchy, and it makes you realize how much you’ve craved this simplicity.

And so, you finally decide to stay.

You find work with the herbalist, a quiet, weathered man who doesn’t seem to mind your silence. He gives you tasks to complete- gathering herbs, organizing his jars- and pays you a small wage that’s enough to rent a modest little cottage at the edge of the woods. It’s a humble place with a thatched roof and a creaky wooden floor, but it feels like yours. It is yours.

You spend your mornings walking through the forest, learning which mushrooms are safe to pick and which plants have medicinal properties, books always ready to be cracked open, and your evenings curled up in front of the fire, your legs tucked beneath you as the light flickers across the walls. The herbalist and the old woman are friends, unsurprisingly for such a cozy village, and they tell you stories of their lives. Simple lives, yet so precious and fulfilling.

Your body, too, begins to change. The gaunt, hollow look you wore in the duchy fades as your cheeks fill out again, as your muscles grow stronger from the work. Your skin takes on a golden hue from the sun, and your eyes, once dull and lifeless, begin to sparkle with something new- contentment. The old woman even pats your cheeks, priding herself on constantly doing her best to fatten you up.

It’s a lovely life, you truly. And then something quite unexpected happens.

You meet König on one of your forest walks.

You had only heard of him- everyone told you he isn’t one to socialize much even if he is the forester of the village, simply does his job and prefers his solitude. Yet, you still end up meeting him.

He’s crouched among the trees, examining a patch of wildflowers when you almost stumble over him. You let out a startled yelp, and he rises so quickly you take a step back, craning your neck to meet his gaze. He’s huge- taller than any man you’ve ever met, even Duke Riley- with broad shoulders and an intensity that makes him seem more a part of the forest than a mere visitor.

Though perhaps, you think, that could be because of his work?

He speaks softly, his voice low, as he apologizes for startling you. His accent is unfamiliar, his words slightly awkward, as though he’s unused to speaking at all but you don’t mind.

You smile to reassure him, your heart still fluttering in your chest, and the way his blue eyes soften makes something inside you twist. How silly of you, such ridiculous thoughts.

König offers to walk you back to the village as an apology, insists on it, and though you’ve been perfectly fine on your own, you accept. There’s something… soothing about his presence, about the way he towers beside you but keeps a careful distance as if afraid to overwhelm you. When you part ways, you (dejectedly) think it’s the last you’ll see of him, but you’re wrong.

König starts appearing more and more often.

At first, it’s small things: helping you carry a heavy basket, pointing out a hidden patch of mushrooms you might have missed, but it quickly becomes clear to everyone except you that he’s seeking you out on purpose. He’s awkward about it, clearly unused to conversation, but he tries. And every time you see him, he brings something with him.

Never before have you had such attention dotted on you, and you… love it. You adore König, truly, and all the little gifts he brings with him.

A carved figurine of a fox, whittled from wood with painstaking care that you place on your bedside. A bundle of freshly picked berries, their juices staining his hands, a day after you told him you quite like berries. A bouquet of wildflowers that matches your favorites so perfectly you wonder if he’s been watching you.

If he is, you don’t mind.

Truthfully, you tell yourself it’s nothing at first. Just a kind villager being neighborly. But König doesn’t treat anyone else like this and even the herbalist and the old lady say so, hiding their smiles.

It’s only you who he looks at with those soft, steady eyes. Only you he lingers near, his massive frame somehow gentle as he helps you with whatever task you’re doing.

And so to no one’s surprise, over time, the relationship between you deepens into something far more precious and tender:

König listens to you in a way no one ever has. He hangs onto every word as if you’ve hung the stars, his gaze fixed on you as though you’re the most important thing in the world, in his world. He asks about your day, about your thoughts, and eventually, about your life; and when you tell him about the life you left behind, his jaw tightens, and his hands curl into fists. When they loosen, his hands hover for a few seconds before he gently cups your face, callouses thumbs rubbing the soft skin under your eyes.

“You deserve better,” he tells you, his voice quiet but firm. “I hope this… village gives you happiness.”

You don’t respond, but your heart aches with a feeling you can’t quite name. You give me happiness, König. More than anyone ever has.

He spoils you in ways you never thought possible, and gives you the steady, unwavering presence of someone who genuinely cares. It’s overwhelming at first, this constant, undivided attention, but you find yourself softening to it, leaning into it, _craving_ it.

For the first time in years, you feel seen. You feel wanted.

The life you’ve built here is nothing like the one you left behind. It’s smaller, quieter, but it’s yours. You wake each morning to the chirping of birds and fall asleep each night to the distant rustle of trees, and both times, you have warm and secure arms that wrap around you in the coziest embrace. Kisses trailing up the nape of your neck, a soft voice whispering vows of adoration into you skin.

The duchy, John, Kyle, Johnny, Simon- they feel like ghosts now, distant figures from a life that doesn’t belong to you anymore. You don’t know if they’ve noticed your absence, if they’ve felt the sting of your silence, but…

You don’t care. Let them wonder. Let them regret. You’ve found your freedom, your happiness, and you’re never looking back.

To be loved is to exist, and you understand that now.

[thecharacterchronicler]

Heirloom (Part 3) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: Weeks after your arranged wedding, you and Ominis have a few things to confess to each other…

Word count: 3’925

Warnings: arranged marriage, panic attack, (unwanted) pregnancy and explicit smut.

(( Part 1 - Bloodline )) - (( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Masterlist ))

The living room was plunged in darkness, the old clock ticking on top of the chimney, where a slightly outdated portrait of the Gaunts hung, each member coldly keeping an eye on the manor. You walked in, nervously playing with your hands as you approached the green velvet sofa facing the fireplace, finding Ominis lying down on it, his blond hair in a mess gainst his pillow and his tie losened.

You felt bad for waking him at such a late hour of the night but you had spent the past few hours after dining together hoping he would join you in his bedroom but it seemed tonight - like every other night - he had preferred the sofa instead of sharing a bed with you. Of course, you wanted to respect his boundaries and his privacy. You knew that Ominis had married you out of the goodness of his heart, because he was your friend and wanted to save you from a far more tragic fate, not because he felt anything more than friendship towards you and, although you had engaged in marital duties twice since your wedding night, his stubbornness to sleep in the living room made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t planning on it happening again…

“Ominis.” You called, softly, as you gently brushed a strand of pale blond hair away from his forehead.

You didn’t expect him to jump, startled by the intrusion despite your gentleness. He immediately sat up, his pale eyes shooting open in panic.

“It’s me.” You told him, to reassure him and it seemed to worked, his body immediately relaxing as he recognized your voice.

“What’s the matter ? Is everything alright ?” He asked you, suddenly worried.

“Yes… Or maybe not, actually.” You replied, hesitantly. You looked over your shoulder to the portrait of his family, watching you with cold stares and haughty faces. “Can we talk… In private ?”

“Of course.” He nodded, getting up from the couch to follow you out of the living room. You went upstairs, down the dark corridor that led to your bedroom - his bedroom - out of habit, it was the only place in the manor where you truly felt safe, no portraits or house elves to spy on you.

He closed the door after himself and you began to nervously pace around the room, unsure of what to say. You had tried to talk to him all day long with no avail, not that he didn’t listen, you always had his full attention whenever you opened your mouth to speak. It just that you were terrified of his reaction and the effect it might have on your marriage.

“It’s terrible, Ominis.” You warned him, still walking around the room as he stood still by the door, his head following the sound of your footsteps on the creaking floor. “I’m so sorry, you can’t imagine how bad I feel, I never meant for this to happen.”

“Now you’re scaring me, darling.” He said, worry in his tone and etched on his face. “What is going on ?”

“I don’t want to hurt or upset you, I really am so sorry…” you continued, heart racing and chest heaving in panic.

“I could never be mad at you.” He stated, as if the very idea of it didn’t make any sense to him. “Whatever it is, you can trust me, I can hear it…”

“Oh no, Ominis, you’re going to be mad. Furious even. And you’ll hate me.” You assured him, as tears began rolling down your cheeks. You gasped as you felt his hand on your wrist, gripping you tightly to stop your frenetic pacing of the room. He pulled you closer, forcing you to look at him, which made it even worse. How were you supposed to tell him such a tragic news when you were certain to see the disappointment and anger on his face in reaction ? Your best friend had been nothing but kind to you and you had betrayed him, how could he forgive you ? And with such a wound in your still fragile marriage, how could he ever love you afterwards ?

Because that was the worse of it all, the idea that he’d never love you as much as you loved him. He was a loyal friend who had sacrificed his future for your sake, agreed to be married to you for the rest of his life so that you wouldn’t have to be with his brother and you had had the audacity to believe that, with time, his feelings for you might evolve into something more than friendship, especially when he had agreed to be intimate with you, not once but twice… But the doubt always subsided; did he do this only because he was a good friend who couldn’t refuse you anything you demanded ?

That question had been haunting you for days, keeping you awake on most nights as you tortured yourself with the guilt you felt for forcing him in an arranged marriage and for wanting him to love you back so desperately.

But it didn’t matter anymore, anyway. Not with the unforgivable betrayal you were about to confess to him.

“I can assure you, darling, there’s nothing you could do that could make me hate you… So please, tell me what it is all about.”

You looked at his handsome face, his angel-like features and the worry he felt, so visible in his absent stare. You knew that you were going to ruin everything between the two of you and it broke your heart. The pain you felt in your chest felt like the stabbing of a burning knife, keeping you from breathing properly. You gasped for air but the bedroom suddenly seemed devoid of any, the sobs stuck in your throat making it even harder to fill your lungs. You started panting desperately, your body trembling. You were going to die, you were sure of that.

Ominis reached out to hold your other hand in his and guided you to his bed, making you sit down on the satin sheet as he took place next to you, his grip tightening on your hand. You felt his fingers gently brushing off some of the tears streaming down your face but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. You held his hand and gripped his arm with the other, digging your nails into his skin as you suffocated in panic. You felt lightheaded, as if you were about to faint and at this point, it almost felt like a welcomed reprieve…

Suddenly, you felt your new husband’s lips press on yours, interrupting the flow of your desperate gasps for air. It was a gentle kiss that only lasted a few seconds and, as soon as he moved away, you took a deep inhale, your lungs finally filling up with the air they so miserably craved.

“My apologies, I didn’t know what else to do to help.” Ominis said, as he wiped some tears away from your cheeks once more, before brushing your hair out of your face. You couldn’t deny that it had worked wonders, your breathing slowing down and your heart beating more steadily. “Now please, tell me what happened.”

“I have reasons to believe that…” you started, taking a break to inhale once more, nervously staring back at his pale eyes. “I might be pregnant.”

“Ah.” was all that he said. You searched his face for a reaction, some kind of emotion but he stayed impassive, blankly looking in your direction.

More tears escaped your eyes. It was the end of your friendship. The end of your marriage. The end of everything.

“I’m so sorry, Ominis. I really didn’t mean for it to happen, I know you wanted your bloodline to end with you.” You told him, your words interrupted by sobs. “I never meant to betray your trust like this…”

The sound of your cries seemed to knock him out of his shock, both of his hands reaching out to cup your face.

“Please, calm down. I cannot bear to hear you cry.” He said, his voice soft and warm despite the terrible news you had just shared with him. His touch was impossibly gentle as he placed another soft kiss on your lips, probably just to ensure you wouldn’t suffocate in panic once again. “It’s not your fault, I’m the one who’s been imprudent, I should have been more careful, it’s just that you are so… Perfect. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Then don’t hate me, please.”

“Never.” He stated, without hesitation. He silenced one of your sobs with another kiss, pulling you into a hug. You closed your eyes in his embrace, feeling relived that you had told him the secret you had been keeping for days, although you still couldn’t imagine him being anything other than angry because of it. Yet, he showed no sign of being upset - or feeling anything, really - focused on kissing you each time a cry got stuck in your throat.

As time went by, you ended up lying down on the bed, your head resting on the soft pillow and your body relaxing into the mattress, an exhaustion you had never felt before taking over you. Ominis stayed close, lying next to you with his arm resting over your body, some sloppy kisses shared as his hand slowly started wandering under your nightgown.

You weren’t sure how it had came to this, how could he still want to touch you knowing that you may be growing his heir in your belly ? How could he be so calm about it all when he had made it clear that it was the one thing he didn’t want to happen ? However, one thing you knew was that you had no intention of stopping him. Especially if the bold way his fingers were exploring your body was meant as a last moment of weakness before never speaking to you again.

He squeezed your breast between his fingers, probably noticing as well as you did how much more tender your flesh was compared to usual. You gasped as he pinched your unusually sensitive nipple, which had turned a few shades darker in the last few days. He apologized for his roughness by placing a wet kiss on your lips, before moving his mouth to the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with burning kisses.

You closed your arms around his shoulders, holding him close for a moment before moving to switch positions, straddling his legs as his head fell back on the pillow. His chest was heaving rapidly when you popped the buttons of his shirt open one by one, revealing the pale skin of his chest. You gently caressed your way down to his trousers, working on the buttons down there while his hands slowly caressed their way up your legs and thighs.

Once you were able to free his erection out of his pants, it stood gloriously straight up and hard in front of you, the soft pink tip glistening with his arousal. You gave it a few stroke with your hand, watching as he closed his eyes and opened his mouth in reaction, breathing heavily. You couldn’t think of anything more gratifying than seeing him like this, enjoying himself, because of you.

You tugged your nightgown up as you moved and gently lowered yourself on him, feeling his erection easily sliding inside you, stretching out your entrance and pushing past your walls until you could be fully seated on top of him.

“We shouldn’t.” Ominis breathed, his face clearly saying the opposite.

“I’m not sure it matters anymore.” You replied, instinctively placing a hand on your stomach. He groaned as his tip hit the deepest part of you and you left out a quiet whimper, loving how he filled you up so perfectly.

His hands flew to your hips, his fingers digging in your flesh as he guided you off him in an upwards motion. You believed he wanted you to get off of him for a moment, until he pulled you back down onto him with strength, causing his cock to slam inside you.

You pushed on your knees to repeat the same motion over and over again, following the pace he set, feeling an intense pleasure already building inside you.

“Goodness, I love you.” He breathed, eyes shut, head in a daze.

“What ?” You stopped yourself, sitting down on him, wanting to make sure you had heard him correctly before allowing your heart to burst with joy.

His eyes shot open, his expression mortified. You stared at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, and you could almost see the gears in his mind turning trying to come up with a proper explanation.

“I guess there’s no point keeping it a secret, we’re supposed to spend a lifetime together after all.” He admitted, carefully chosing his words as his cheeks turned pink. “So you might as well know that I love you. I’ve been intrigued by you from the moment we met, I’m not sure when my feelings turned into… something more, but I do know that my love for you is unconditional and irrevocable.”

It was your turn to be frozen in a shocked daze after hearing his confession, unsure of what to say or how to react. Earlier, you were convinced that he was going to detest you for the rest of your lives so such a turn in the situation was confusing and unexpected to say the least.

“Of course I do not expect anything from you, I’ve always known my feelings were unrequited and it is fine by me if it remains that way, I just thought that you ought to know…”

“Unrequited ?” You repeated, astonished. “Ominis, I’ve had feelings for you for years !”

“You… Really ?”

“Absolutely ! But you’ve always been so cold and distant even as a friend, I certainly didn’t think you felt anything for me.”

“Well, it seems we’ve been quite foolish to not talk about this sooner then.” He stated, still so serious while you left out a happy giggle. You leaned forward to kiss him, feeling his arms coming around you to hold you close.

You slowly started moving again, foreheads pressed against each other, his warm breath caressing your face with each of the low grunts of pleasure that came out of his mouth in reaction to the way you were swaying your hips on top of him. It felt even better this way, the short circular movements allowing you to feel his entire length and full girth inside you, exquisitely moving back and forth.

You weren’t that far from climaxing when he thrusted his hips upwards under you, adding more pressure to your tantalizing moves, making you cry out as the bubble of pleasure at your core imploded and your whole body was submerged with bliss. You heard him groan as he came too, fully releasing himself inside you as the consequences no longer mattered, his fingers still digging into your hips so strongly that it almost felt painful.

You collapsed on top of him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he attempted to recover from the intensity of his pleasure. You were already partly asleep in his arms, feeling blissfully safe and comfortable, when he turned over to get his satisfied cock out of you, before pulling the covers over your body and planting a final soft kiss on your lips.

You woke up as the morning rays of sunshine illuminated the bedroom, your head still swimming in bliss despite the soreness of your body. You turned to your side, to avoid facing the bright sunlight and to snuggle up against Ominis but, as you outstretched your hand to the other side of the bed, you didn’t find anyone else between the sheets.

A noise almost startled you, forcing your eyes open. You rubbed them a few times, struggling to sit up on the mattress as you found a shirtless Ominis, filling a heavy looking suitcase with various items from his bedroom. It took you a moment to realize what he was up to, but when you did, your heart sank in your chest.

“Are you leaving ?” You asked him, your voice breaking the silence of the bedroom, making him freeze in place. He threw a few more books inside the trunk before turning around to face in your direction.

“We are leaving.” He replied, approaching the bed.

A wave of relief hit you, happy that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere without you. A man who didn’t want to have kids would have fled during the night without looking back but Ominis was a gentleman, and he wasn’t just any man, he was your husband.

“And where are we going ?” You asked, as he sat down on the bed and you leaned to kiss his cheek, making him smile.

“Wherever you want to go, darling, as long as it is somewhere our families won’t find us.”

“So you’re planning on running away ?” You knew he had thought about it many times before, leaving without looking back so that he could be free from his family and no longer carry the burden of being a Gaunt. You often felt guilty about it, imagining that he would have done it after graduation if it weren’t for you and your arranged marriage to a Gaunt, leaving him no choice but to stay to make sure you wouldn’t be a victim of his family’s famous cruelty…

“It’s about time I do.” He stated, holding your hand tightly in his. “With all my savings and the few precious items I own, we should be able to live comfortably, far away from here.”

“And what about… The baby ?” You inquired, almost in a whisper. You hadn’t talked about it since you had dropped the news and you felt somewhat worried of his reaction if you reminded him about it…

“The baby won’t lack anything, neither will you. We’ll settle down somewhere comfortable and my family will never know of his existence. Our children will be safe.”

Your heart warmed at his words, joy bursting out of you in a stream of happy tears. The plan was perfect, there was nothing you wanted more than to disappear from society, be free from your families’ expectations and live a simple life, with the man you loved… And the babies you may be blessed with.

“I packed what I thought useful but I’ll leave it to your care to chose the outfits you’d like to take along.” He explained, standing up from the bed to get back to his task because he knew he was so easily distracted whenever he started touching and kissing you. “I have a few items to fetch from my father’s office. Then, we can leave whenever you are ready.”

You agreed and he placed a tender kiss on your forehead before leaving the bedroom. You stretched and got up, freshening up and getting dressed before opening the wardrobe’s doors wide and surveying each of your pieces of clothing one by one.

Once you were done choosing the most practical and appropriate outfits you owned, you giddily left the bedroom to go downstairs where you believed Ominis would be waiting for you. But instead of finding him excitedly waiting for you in the hallway, with all your and his belongings packed up, the first silhouette you saw wasn’t his and your heart jumped. You hurried downstairs to stand by Ominis’ side, straightening up although Marvolo’s cold and twisted gaze always made you feel in danger.

“I see you and your wife are about to leave on a little vacation, a honeymoon perhaps ?” The oldest Gaunt stated, his eyes on the luggage waiting by the door. “I’m sure mother and father would love to know where you are going.”

“Don’t worry about it, they know.” Ominis lied, his tone cold, as his arm protectively came around your waist, pulling you against his body.

“Do they ? Mother seemed pretty determined to keep you both locked up in here until your wife produced an heir… Unless ?” His deranged eyes dropped to your belly which you couldn’t help but cover with your hand in reaction, as if you could protect your unborn child from his abominable uncle that way.

“This family won’t get an heir from me. Not now and not ever.” Your husband declared, but you clearly noticed he wasn’t as determined as he used to be about it.

“It’s fine by me.” Marvolo shrugged, his gaze still on you but clearly focused on something else now. “All that matters to me is that you give me back what belongs to me.”

“Such as ?”

“Such as the precious ring on your wife’s finger.”

“Father gave me this heirloom as a present for the wedding and I gave it to her.”

“It should have been mine, I’m the eldest son.”

“Father knew that you wouldn’t take care of it properly, that’s why he gave it to me. What do you want that ring for, anyway ? Pay up a gambling debt ?”

You noticed how tensed Ominis’ body was against you, his hand ready to grab his wand to defend himself against his brother. You saw a sadistic smile appear on Marvolo’s lips and sure enough, he pointed his wand at both of you, Ominis pulling his out as soon as he heard the familiar noise.

“I won’t let you steal it from my wife.” Ominis said, determined.

“And I won’t let you leave with it so it seems there might be an issue here.” Marvolo retorted.

“It’s alright, you can have it !” You interrupted , pulling the ring off. “But you have to let us go and not tell your parents about it.”

Marvolo seemed amused by your request, maybe because you had gave in more easily than he had expected but you didn’t want to see them duel each other over a ring, as pretty and special as it looked.

“Deal.”

Ominis sighed as you took a few prudent steps towards his brother, placing the golden ring and its black gem in the palm of his hand. He didn’t thank you but smiled at you in a way that caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He slowly closed his fingers over the ring and walked away, the tension still subsiding in the atmosphere.

“Let’s hurry up.” Ominis finally said, grabbing the suitcases and your hand and guiding you out of the imposing Gaunt Manor. He looked worried, your escape suddenly more rushed than planned.

“Do you not trust Marvolo to keep his word ?” You asked him, trying to follow his large footsteps in direction of the iron gates of the propriety.

“I don’t trust Marvolo for anything.”

The morning was cold and quiet as you followed your husband into the unknown, hopeful to make it far away from his family and yours before anyone was alerted of your unexpected travel plans. You felt nervous about it, but at least there was one thing you knew for sure; as long as you were with him, then you had everything you could possibly need.

“Ominis ?” You called, softly, making his head turn in your direction to show that you had his full attention. “I love you.”

A smile illuminated his face despite his apparent apprehension and his zeal to get as far away from his family’s manor as possible, his face momentarily softened as he squeezed your hand in his, brushing his thumb over the mark that his heirloom had left on your finger.

“And I love you more.”

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

Previously in the series;

[disappointmentthemusical]

time travel fix it au where 6th year draco, rather than fixing the vanishing cabinet to bring death eaters, turns it into a time portal to warn his 11yo self not to trust his father

exiting the cabinet's pair in borgin & burkes in 1991 and apparating into the manor, the wards recognizing him. appearing before his younger self tired, gaunt and traumatized.

his younger self is afraid of this man who looks to be on the brink of madness, whose hair is limp and unkempt, whose eyes rove, unable to focus on one point. this man who reminds him so much of his aunt bella, but looks so much like his mother. like himself.

17-year-old draco is frantic and desperate. shaking his younger self in bouts of anger and fear. "you must listen," he repeats. don't trust father. forget everything he's taught you. there's no honor in the malfoy name. blood purity will destroy you. don't trust him. listen to me. please. please listen to me.

the moment you can, you need to leave the manor. it's not safe here. you can't trust anyone, not in slytherin, not in the sacred 28. they'll turn you in. find somewhere safe, away from here. please listen.

"what about mother" his younger self asks. he's afraid. afraid of the version of himself who looks, acts like this. afraid of the things that are being asked of him. afraid to lose himself.

older draco breaks down in a sob. its the cry of a broken man, one who's lost everything. his fingers dig painfully into 11-year-old draco's shoulders.

"she let me become this," he says. "she told me she loves me, but she let me become this."

he cries and cries and cries.

young draco agrees to change his fate, if only to stop the loud sobs that are bound to attract attention.

it's like a switch flips, and older draco stops crying. he looks at his younger self, and suddenly his face is full of life. it's like he's glowing.

"i can feel it," he says in an awed whisper. "can't you? you've done it already."

and then he disappears.

[chaoticgoodstuff]

THIS IS SO COOL!!!

When HL takes over your other game...

I'm a long-time player in a virtual world where users have limitless ability to create - and that's all I do. So, I decided to use what I've learned in design, building, editing and scripting to create my own Gaunt Manor! Still very early on in progress, and will take months, but I've already built and scripted a Floo that I can use to teleport around the game. AI paintings need to be made to hang up, various accents and upgrades need finding and fitting... but most importantly - secret passages need to be made! Wish me luck!

[bloodandlegacy]

Blood & Legacy: Part II

Coming December 13, 2024

[asirenssongs]

OG post here

guys…

Guys

GUYS

GUYS!!!

[anto-pops]

Heart of Vipers - Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader

Summary: After an ill-fated confrontation with Ominis' family, you come to learn that they want you for themselves. More specifically, they want your abilities for themselves. Ominis is less than pleased with the revelation and returns home with the intention of proving that the only person you belong to is him.

Alternatively summarized as Dominis turning into a possessive alpha male in the wake of his family's sudden interest in you.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, minor depictions of violence, explicit sexual content, rough/possessive sex à la Dominis

Descriptions of Marvolo and Aleister Gaunt heavily credited to legacyshenanigans

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (as always with more eclectic tags)

This was a bad idea. Truly one of the worst ones you had come up with in recent times– which was saying something when you stopped to consider all the stupid shit you’d gotten yourself into since starting at Hogwarts. But this was a decision born of desperation, and one that you adamantly refused to go back on. 

Not that you could, realistically. You were already here. 

The Gaunt Estate was massive. It was an imposing structure, shrouded in a perpetual darkness that seemed to kill off even the tiniest slivers of light, and you’d noted the distinctly foul scent of dark magic that encased the mansion from roughly a mile away. There were no Floo Flames to utilize for travel, so you’d been forced to apparate to Great Hangleton and walk the remaining six miles to reach your destination. This was your first time setting foot anywhere near Ominis’ childhood home, and the threat of splinching yourself by apparating to an unfamiliar location was a very legitimate concern. 

You almost wished you’d taken the gamble, if only to spare yourself the harrowing journey on foot. 

Ominis had to already be inside the manor, having left long before you decided you would follow him to essentially eavesdrop on his meeting with his family. You had never seen him so agitated in the hours leading up to his departure, and it was entirely due to the letter he’d received from his father. What it had said, you didn’t know, but you knew Ominis well enough to figure out that it wasn’t anything good. His entire demeanor had changed upon reading the apparent summons, but he wouldn’t tell you a lick of what it was about. He’d promised to return home as soon as he was able and left without so much as a goodbye kiss. 

The memory only reinforced the fact that this was a really bad idea. What the hell were you thinking? 

Now that you were actually here, you had no clue how to go about your poorly thought out plan. Going inside had always been the goal, but now that you were face to face with the blood-chilling building, you found yourself hesitating. Something told you that getting out would be a lot harder than getting in. You didn’t even know where Ominis could be, especially if the interior was as gargantuan as the exterior. Getting lost– or Merlin forbid, caught and tortured– seemed like the most plausible outcome. 

It was as the saying went; curiosity killed the cat. You seriously hoped you wouldn’t end up dead as a result of your inquisitiveness. 

Forcing one foot in front of the other, you started down the gravel path towards the arched double doors with your wand in hand. Your anxiety was like a physical entity hiding within your chest, but you smothered it beneath the overwhelming desire to ensure that Ominis was okay. While you knew he could handle himself, his family’s reputation preceded them, and you’d feared the worst earlier when you had borne witness to his expression shifting into something far more sinister than you were accustomed to. 

You cast a disillusionment charm for extra measure before giving the handle a testing twist, relieved to find that the door was unlocked. It wouldn’t surprise you if there were other safeguards in place that you were unaware of, but pressing on despite that unknown possibility was a risk you were willing to take. You opened the door a crack– just enough for you to squeeze through before quickly shutting it behind you– and you were instantly encased in suffocating darkness. 

The windows that lined the walls were evidently just for show. 

It smelled distinctly old inside, as though there had never been a time when the mansion wasn’t inhabited. The wooden columns that lined the entryway were cracked and worn, stretching all the way towards the vaulted ceilings before disappearing into the inky shadows high above. There was a striking amount of antique looking decor that lined the walls; from suits of armor, to ornate vases perched atop mahogany tables. Straight across from the front door was a giant portrait of what could only be the Gaunt family.

Ominis was nowhere to be found in it. 

The sound of distant, unintelligible voices echoed throughout the vast foyer from somewhere deeper in the house, drawing your attention and making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your eyes scanned the room once more before you were furtively moving further into the room in the direction of the noise. 

Following the sound of the voices brought you to a giant oak doorway– a mere fraction of the size of the main entrance, but still obscenely large. From within you could hear a man you didn’t recognize, his throaty timbre one that seemed to command attention, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that danced down your spine. Nothing about his tone sounded pleasant. 

“It’s been put off long enough,” you heard the man say as you sidled up directly against the door, careful not to lean on it too much and risk shoving it open. “We entertained your rebelliousness while you were at school, but Apollonia has anticipated this union for years now. It will happen. Whether you’re a willing participant, however, is up to you.”

“You already know my stance on the matter.” Ominis. “I’d sooner dig my own grave before I let you marry me off to that deplorable woman. She’s psychotic–” 

“A non-issue,” interjected the older voice. 

“Perhaps it’s irrelevant to you, but not to me,” Ominis snapped. You hardly recognized the threatening lilt in his voice; he sounded thoroughly fed up with the discussion, and you briefly wondered how long he’d been going at it with the unknown man. “She’s utterly wicked. Moreover she’s family. Have you forgotten my opposition to these incestuous relations you continue to shove down my throat?” 

At this point, you were almost positive the deeper voice belonged to Ominis’ father. You knew next to nothing about the man, other than the fact that Ominis loathed him with his entire being. Before you could delve further into your thoughts, a distinctly feminine voice filtered through the thin slit in the doorway, sounding colder than ice. 

“Aleister, give it a rest. If he wants to be dragged to the altar instead of walking down it, then so be it.” 

Ominis’ laugh was crass and devoid of any genuine humor, and you could practically hear the sneer in his rebuttal. “Bold of you to assume I’ll let myself be dragged anywhere. Try it and see what happens.” 

“I just don’t understand why you’re so opposed to this,” the woman continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “You never used to fight us to this extent– you’ve always known what was expected of you as a Gaunt. Does that girl from Hogwarts have anything to do with this?” 

Your entire body went rigid at the mention of yourself, and a tense silence descended over the room. It was suddenly so quiet that you were certain you could hear a pin drop– but in this case the lack of sound allowed you to pick up on something shifting across the floorboards closer to you. You had barely glanced over your shoulder before you were jumping away from the door with your heart hammering in your chest. 

The biggest snake you’d ever seen in your life was slithering across the floor, its iridescent scales somehow reflecting the nonexistent light within the hallway. Your eyes went wider than saucers as you stepped away as much as you could, silently backing yourself into the tiny alcove beside the doorway in a bid to remain undetected– because if there was one thing the wizarding world had taught you, it was that beasts of any kind were far more intelligent than they were given credit for. The snake’s long, forked tongue flicked out incessantly as it made its way towards the doors, but it stopped short of the entryway to pivot its massive head in your direction. 

It was looking right at you. 

Fuck.

Your body tensed in anticipation of the worst; maybe it was venomous and you’d die quickly, or maybe it was more inclined to strangle the life out of you before depositing your corpse in front of Ominis and his parents. The thought made your stomach churn, and your eyes flicked down to confirm that yes– the disillusionment charm was still working– but that didn’t seem to matter where the reptile was concerned, and you mentally chided yourself for ever having let your curiosity get the better of you. 

The conversation on the other side of the door continued as your staring contest with the snake pressed on. “That girl is none of your concern. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll refrain from speaking to me about her.” 

“Ominis,” Aleister admonished with a rough voice. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother that way. Such hostility for some witch we know nothing about– perhaps it’s time to rid you of her influence once and for all. She’s proving to be a greater distraction than I had anticipated.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the snake’s, but your blood ran cold. 

“Over my dead body. If you so much as look at her–”

“That can be arranged. No son of mine will be consorting with some harlot of unknown blood purity. You’d be better off in the grave–” 

“Aleister!” Ominis’ mother yelled, silencing the back and forth bickering instantaneously, and you found the willpower to shift your feet sideways so you could better make a break for the front door.

There was another flick of the creature’s tongue as it blatantly scented your presence, but it made no move to inch closer to you. While you were grateful to still be breathing, you were also deeply, irrevocably afraid, and you came to the resolute decision that it was time to get the hell out of there. 

You moved out of the alcove slowly while maintaining what you deemed to be a safe enough distance from the snake, and all the while its thin, slitted pupils followed your movements. The blasted thing had an awareness to it that sent shivers down your spine, overwhelming you with the urge to run and get away, but vigilance was key. It wasn’t poised to strike, but that just made you even more nervous. 

Why wasn’t it attacking you? 

You adamantly refused to turn your back on the reptile, so you kept your front to it as you skirted the edge of the wall in the direction of the entrance. The discussion between Ominis and his parents was muffled now– their voices distinctly lower after his mother had cut off their argument with her biting tone– but you no longer cared to listen in. You craved safety, and nothing about the Gaunt household offered that. 

As you came upon the final stretch of the hallway, the snake flicked out its tongue once more before it was turning around to begin slithering towards you, and the remnants of your bravery evaporated. Fear overtook you, and the disillusionment charm that had shrouded you in transparency fell away as you pivoted and bolted around the corner. A chill-inducing hiss echoed from down the corridor– the first real sound you’d heard the animal make– and it only served to propel you towards the exit even faster.

The gargantuan double-doors swam into view, and just as you were reaching out to curl your fingers around the handle, a strong arm was coiling around your waist and hauling you backwards with enough force to give you whiplash. A startled, pained yelp was expelled from your lungs as you were slammed into the wall beside the doors, and your hip connected painfully with a tiny side table that careened against the floor. The vase that had been perched atop it shattered loudly, the ceramic pieces scattering across the tile, but you barely got the chance to gauge the extent of the damage before an unfamiliar face was blocking your sight. 

“Well well well, just look at what the cat dragged in. Get lost on your way home, doll?”  

It took a second for the statement to register, but once it had, you were craning your head back to glare boldly at the arrogant sounding man. His tawny eyes were narrowed down at you in amusement, his thick forearm pinned horizontally across your chest to restrain you firmly in place between himself and the wall, and the predatory look in his gaze had your stomach sinking into your feet. Everything about him screamed dangerous; from the unruly hair that curled around his temples to the animalistic way he bared his teeth at you– there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the man would kill you if he deemed it acceptable. You cursed yourself silently for having put yourself in such a predicament in the first place. 

The imposing man cocked his head to the side coyly as he teased, “I hardly think I deserve such a cruel expression when you’re the one sleuthing around my house uninvited.”

Your mouth opened and shut a few times before you managed to stammer out, “I-I wasn’t–” 

“Don’t deny it,” he cut you off quickly. “What other reason would Ominis’ little plaything have for being here? I sincerely doubt the house-elves held the door open for you.” 

The term ‘plaything’ made you scowl, distracting you from the fact that the man even knew who you were, and you brazenly planted your hands against his firm chest to shove him away. It was like pushing against an immovable boulder. “I’m not his plaything, you prat–”

His free hand shot up in a flash to grip the sides of your jaw painfully, the look on his face darkening tenfold as he growled, “Careful now, I’d hate to lose my temper and take away my brother’s pet.” The fingers splayed under your face tightened a fraction as the crazed man angled your head to the side, shamelessly pressing his nose against the sensitive skin of your throat before he inhaled deeply. You shuddered uncomfortably at the contact. “Although I’m beginning to understand his infatuation a bit. You smell… different. What is that, exactly?” 

You had no fucking clue what he was referring to, nor did you care to find out. Each passing second brought the towering man closer into your personal space, and when one of his legs started to weasel its way in-between yours, you found yourself attempting to writhe out of his ironclad grip. “Let go of me,” you demanded in a low voice, doing your best to keep your words steady and hide the rampant unease in your tone. 

“Answer my question,” he countered easily. “Or I’ll snap your scrawny neck and be done with it. Makes no difference to me whether you live or die–” 

“If you have any desire to keep those slimy hands of yours, you’ll remove them this instant, Marvolo.” 

Your eyes widened at the sound of Ominis’ booming voice echoing throughout the foyer, which had the elder Gaunt smiling wickedly at you. He didn’t bother turning around, opting to stay right where he was and drop his fingers lower so he could squeeze around your windpipe, and you knew your choked gasp reached Ominis’ ears when he swore viciously and began walking closer. 

“Did I stutter? I said to unhand her, you cretin.”

Marvolo tutted disapprovingly, angling his head to the side so he could better keep track of Ominis coming up behind him, but he kept his eyes glued to yours all the while. “Come now, Ominis. You know how I feel about rats, and she was certainly scurrying around like one.”

You finally caught sight of the blond over Marvolo’s shoulder, and the look on his face was downright murderous. His dark, expressive brows were slammed down atop his milky-blue irises, and his pursed lips contorted into a scowl as he leveled his wand with the back of the taller man’s head. Ominis continued to side-step closer, moving with the prowess of a wolf stalking its prey, and to your immense satisfaction Marvolo broke eye contact with you to fix his gaze on his brother. 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he looked wary. 

“Last chance,” Ominis grit out through his clenched teeth. “Let her go. Or you’ll be nothing more than a stain on the floor.” 

The sharp laugh Marvolo let slip past his lips was positively wicked, and Ominis’ threat only served to motivate his brother into tightening his hand around your throat. Stars danced in the corners of your eyes then, and your own hand shot up to grip at the man’s thick wrist in an attempt to pry his fingers away from your windpipe. Panic flooded your brain, your racing heart drowning out the sound of Ominis’ angry voice as your pulse thundered in your ears. Fight or flight was probably an appropriate way to describe what you were feeling, but Marvolo was making both options impossible to act on. 

He wasn’t listening to Ominis. He probably never would. You would have to get yourself out of this mess on your own. 

Marvolo was barking out insults and threats over his shoulder, taunting Ominis into hurting him as he called his younger brother’s bluff. You were able to school your nerves long enough to focus and dig deep inside of yourself in search of the magic you so rarely touched. Isidora’s abilities were as much of an unknown now as they had been when you’d first absorbed them, but it was comparable to a living entity within you, and the phantom presence of her magic roared to life as you called upon it. 

You felt the strange, darker magic crackle over your skin, and Marvolo’s head whipped back around to stare at you with his pupils blown wide. Whatever he saw reflected in your eyes was enough to spark alarm in his heart, and a sick, twisted part of you relished in the apprehension that washed over his features. 

“What the fuck is that?” His hand around your throat loosened a fraction, but you weren’t about to let him walk away from this unscathed. The arm that had been hanging limp at your side stretched out until your palm was directly against his chest, and you couldn’t help but grimace when the red bolts of magic skirted across your forearm and blasted straight into his sternum. 

Marvolo went flying with a barely there grunt– his arms and legs flailing as he tried to find purchase– to no avail. He hit the stone floor and slid an additional ten feet or so until he came to rest just beside the corridor you’d run out of earlier, and your blood ran cold when an older, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped out from within the hallway. The look on his face was enough to spur you into action then, and you spared a quick, panicked glance at Ominis before you peeled off of the wall and threw the front door open. 

The cool night air was like a slap to your face, sobering you up instantaneously and driving you to pump your legs harder— faster— as you sprinted down the path that led to the dark forest surrounding the property. There was a bang from somewhere behind you and an animalistic sound you could only describe as a snarl, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when it could potentially cost you dearly. 

“Marvolo!” Ominis shouted, his voice angry and distant, but as the footsteps slapping against the gravel behind you got closer and closer, you realized it had to be him giving chase. Your heart hammered in your chest and in your ears– drowning out the sound of the encroaching danger hot on your heels– but you knew there would be no outrunning Marvolo. That crazed look in his eyes you’d seen earlier told you everything you needed to know; he would pursue you to the end of the damn country on foot if need be, and you had no intention of getting caught to find out what he had planned for you. 

Another growl sounded from over your shoulder, causing you to will your brain out of flight-mode and force your magic into action. It surged in your blood, coursing through your veins as you thought of home– of safety. 

One second you were running, and in the next you had apparated. Marvolo’s hand came down on empty air, his heels digging into the ground as he skidded to a stop and realized what had happened. You were already long gone, but his rage-filled roar shook the foundation of the manor, somehow echoing in your ears as you collapsed to your knees in the center of your living room. 

***

Your eyes stung as the steam from the bath wafted up into your face, your gaze never straying from the surface of the water. It had been nearly two hours since your narrow escape from Ominis’ childhood home and you had been in the tub for the majority of it– calming your frayed nerves and racing heart with deep breaths that did little to quell the anxiety that still riddled you. The hot water had been charmed back to scalding temperatures twice now, having gone cold multiple times already as you sat with your knees curled against your chest and replayed every second of your fortuitous run-in with Marvolo Gaunt. 

The ache in your hip throbbed to life every time you thought back to the primal glint that had flashed in Marvolo’s eyes as he’d thrown you into that table. What had started as a tender red spot on your side had transformed into a nasty, colossal bruise, stark and obvious against your bare skin. You hadn’t been able to so much as glance at the finger shaped bruises that wrapped around your neck without feeling nauseous. 

You’d made a mistake in following Ominis– that much was certain. 

The man in question had yet to return home, and as a result, the seemingly bottomless pit of unease in your chest only worsened. Part of you was ashamed for having left him alone to face his family’s scrutiny after literally breaking and entering, but you knew he wouldn’t have had it any other way. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would have found a way to get you out as quickly as possible if you hadn’t done so yourself. 

Still, you worried. 

Another fifteen minutes passed without a sound from within the house, and you dimly registered that the water had gone cold once more. You were half tempted to heat it up again and spend the remainder of the night turning yourself into a human-sized prune, but the ache in your back from staying curled up for so long diminished the idea quickly. Swiftly, you hoisted yourself out of the water, using the rim of the tub to steady yourself as you stood and began drying yourself off. Rivulets of water still cascaded down your body as you draped your robe over your shoulders, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Fatigue overtook you as you combed through your hair with your fingers and padded into your bedroom, and the second you laid down atop the sheets, your eyes were drifting shut. 

You had no idea how long you slept before the distinct feeling of the mattress dipping roused you from your light slumber. The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the pulsing, red glow that emanated from Ominis’ wand as he hovered it over you, and you slowly started to blink the fog from your eyes. 

You had no clue how he realized you were awake, but his voice was unmistakably tight as he asked you, “Where are you hurt?” 

It took your brain a second to fully register the question, and you propped yourself up on your elbow as your eyes adjusted to the dim light and muttered, “What?” 

“You screamed,” he gritted through clenched teeth, and despite the low visibility in the room, you watched as his grip on his wand turned white knuckled. “I heard you earlier. You were in pain– I know it’s the truth– so tell me now, where are you hurt?” 

On cue, the bruise on your hip throbbed to life, and you swiftly placed your hand on top of it while silently cursing yourself for not having brewed any Wiggenweld potions after returning home. Evidently your mind had been too jumbled to do the most logical thing following the altercation. “It’s not that bad–” you started to say, but Ominis cut you off before you could downplay the injury any further. 

“Please,” he implored you, silencing you instantly with his pleading tone. “I’m trying to leave this up to you, but don’t think for a second I won’t figure it out for myself if you don’t tell me.”

Something about the desperate look on his face made you pause, and you took a moment to really take in the sight of him. He was pale– far paler than normal– and the way his brows furrowed told you that he was more anxious than you realized. His posture was still impeccable but less poised– closer to rigid. His shoulders barely moved, giving the illusion that he was hardly breathing, and you honestly weren’t sure he was at this point. 

In short, Ominis looked petrified. 

Your lips formed a hard line as your gaze traversed his stiff form, swallowing thickly before you slid your hand away from your hip to reveal the dark purple blotch that decorated your side. “My hip,” you murmured, afraid that if you spoke the truth too loudly, the tentative composure Ominis was keeping would vanish. 

The muscle in his jaw ticked, and the hand he didn’t have wrapped around the handle of his wand came to skim along your waist before hovering ever so slightly above the bruise. “Where else?” 

“This is the worst of the damage–”

“Where else?” His voice was deeper and rougher than you were accustomed to hearing, and the notable difference had your stomach flipping over on itself. It left you feeling queasy, and you honestly couldn’t tell if he was mad at you or at the situation as a whole. 

“…My neck,” you relented quietly, all too aware of the blatant anger that overtook Ominis’ face. “At least I returned the favor,” you added quickly with a half-smile, trying to lessen the severity of the claim. It was a failed attempt, however, seeing as the man averted his unseeing gaze to the floor and shook his head minutely. Dimly, you watched as he waved his wand over his free hand, and a small vial of Wiggenweld appeared in the center of his palm before he wordlessly handed it to you. Given his tense demeanor, you opted not to say anything as you took it and removed the cork, then drank down the earthy contents graciously. The relief was instantaneous, and through the darkness of the room you managed to catch sight of the bruise on your hip fading away entirely. 

Your tiny sigh of relief reached Ominis’ ears, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate– albeit barely. “You should never have gone there. Why would you set foot anywhere near that damnable house? Do you have any idea the kind of danger you put yourself in– the kind of danger that you’re still in?”

At that, you finally pushed yourself up so you were sitting with your back against the pillows, setting aside the empty vial so you could clasp Ominis’ free hand in yours. His skin was cool to the touch, and you noted the miniscule tremors that emanated from him as you squeezed the appendage to will his attention back to you. “I’m sorry, Ominis. I was worried about you– you were so upset before you left earlier and I was scared that your family would do something to you.” 

“Of course they want to do something to me. They’ve tried puppeting me into a version of myself they can tolerate for my entire life, but it’s for that very reason that I can handle them. I’ve told you what they’re like– how relentless they are– and still you went there.” His head finally snapped back in your direction, and the expression on his face was one you were certain you would never forget; it was a mask of desperation, fear, and most notably, rage. “You have no idea what you’ve done– what it means now that they’ve seen you and what you can do.”

You’d hadn’t really done much of anything, aside from blasting Marvolo across the foyer before running for your life. Still, his words kindled a spark of fear in your chest, and your hold on his hand turned loose and clammy. “What are you talking about?” 

“Before tonight, you were just an unknown witch I’d been… ‘cavorting’ with, in my father’s eyes. Easy to get rid of should the need arise. Until earlier, they didn’t believe you to be exceptionally powerful or particularly useful.”

The sudden dryness in your throat became painfully obvious. “Useful how?” 

“The Gaunt’s value power and authority over everything. Both things guarantee them the influence they need to further their own ends, and as unknown as your abilities are to them, they are undeniable. They’d be fools to ignore such a potent form of magic, and as much as I detest my family and their convoluted values, I’ll be the first to admit that they aren’t stupid. They will find a way to make that power their own– blood purity be damned– and stealing you away and marrying you off to my brother would be their most likely course of action.”

Ominis practically spat the word, his teeth bared and eyes narrowed as murderous thoughts of his brother flew through his mind. Your own head was reeling at the revelation, nausea crashing over you as you thought back to Marvolo and the sadistic way he’d smiled as he tried choking the life out of you. Someone like that wouldn’t– no, couldn’t have a caring bone in their body. But you also knew that someone of his caliber was bound to be determined to get what he wanted, and if Ominis believed that his family now sought to obtain you for their own ends, Marvolo would do everything in his power to make it happen. 

You had really, really fucked up. 

Somewhere in-between thinking of Ominis’ brother and the sickening idea of being kidnapped, your breathing had kicked up dramatically. You didn’t notice, but the blond man beside you certainly did. Ominis turned fully so his torso was angled towards you, feeling around the bed for your other hand before clasping your trembling limbs in his cooler ones, and your wide eyes flicked back up to meet his. “I won’t let them have you. Do you hear me? If they so much as glance at you, I’ll leave them wishing they had never set their sights on you.”

“You can’t know that,” you whispered, and your voice was unrecognizable to you. It was small and shaky, timid and so very, very afraid. “Marvolo is– he’s a beast. He’ll kill you in a heartbeat, Ominis. You’ll die and it will be all my fault. I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault–” 

In a flash, Ominis silenced you with a kiss. It took you by surprise, but it was far from an unwelcome one– especially when his wand bearing hand slid to the back of your neck to pull you impossibly closer towards him. You were pleased to discover that the skin there no longer throbbed with discomfort, the Wiggenweld potion he’d given you having done its job for all the bruises, not just the one on your hip. The revelation calmed you further, and before you knew it you were melting against the taller man, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt to cling to him desperately.

Ominis broke away momentarily to murmur against your parted lips, “No one will ever take you from me, you’re mine.” 

Despite the circumstances that led the two of you to this moment, you found yourself enraptured by the possessive declaration, and you couldn’t help but lean closer into the blond’s personal space until your hands were sandwiched between his chest and your breasts. Your mouth found his again, and you fervently bit at his bottom lip as you breathily whispered, “I’m yours, Ominis. Only yours.” 

Instantly, Ominis was pushing you back towards the headboard until your head knocked against the wooden frame, not once breaking the kiss as he positioned himself on top of you. His long legs came to cage your own against the mattress as he threw his wand to the edge of the bed, freeing both of his hands so he could plant them on either side of your face. Pulling away seemed physically difficult for him but he didn’t stray far, opting to rest his forehead against yours and fix his hazy eyes directly on yours. How he knew where to aim his heady stare, you didn’t know, but your toes curled at the ardent need for you that reflected in his blue irises. 

“Say it again,” he implored you with a voice like pure sin. 

“I’m yours,” you obliged him without missing a beat, and a sigh slipped past your lips as Ominis lowered his face to pepper featherlight kisses along your jaw and down the now unmarred column of your neck. Goosebumps broke out virtually all over your body when you felt one of his cool hands fall to the neckline of your robe, and as Ominis slowly tugged the material apart to expose your bare chest, he sank his teeth into the tender spot above your clavicle. The pain laced pleasure left you moaning his name in earnest, your voice steadily growing louder as his thumb came to graze over one of your nipples. 

You felt the pressure from his teeth lessen as you arched into his touch, followed by his kiss-swollen lips latching over the bite to suck lightly. “Again,” he breathed, continuing to work his searing brand into your flesh. 

There were too many ways to describe his actions; primal, dominant, and greedy, to name a few. Yet there was a softness to his words that left your heart aching within your chest– a tenderness that spoke volumes of the fear he’d felt upon realizing you had entered into that nest of vipers. He had nearly lost you tonight, and when the hand against your breast shifted down to curl around your waist, you realized he would never allow for it to happen again. 

“I’m here, Ominis, I’m right here,” you moaned, your reedy voice bouncing off the walls of the bedroom and causing the man above you to shudder. “I’m here and I’m yours.” 

Before long, Ominis was moving back into your line of sight to capture your lips in another searing kiss. The hand on your waist traversed the bare expanse of your lower stomach before reaching your aching center, and you mindlessly wound your arms around his neck to tug him closer, bucking your hips into his hand as he slid a slender finger through your folds. 

“Mine,” he growled against your parted lips, and your next breath caught in your throat as he tentatively pushed the digit inside your wet heat. Your contented sigh filtered through Ominis’ hypersensitive ears as he pressed his finger in all the way to the knuckle, and the arm he supported himself with trembled minutely as he fought to control his baser urges. 

After everything that had transpired tonight, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep in your cunt, desperate to feel you clamp down around his cock and suck him in further and further as he claimed you. He longed to mark you, brand you, consume you, in every possible way– his family’s wishes be damned. He would make you his and his alone. Should any of his kin so much as attempt to interject, he vowed he would defend you until his last breath– and then not even death would stop him. Ominis knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would defy the laws of nature if it meant keeping you safe from harm. 

As you continued to rock your hips in time with Ominis’ hand, your legs spread apart of their own accord, silently beckoning him closer as you shivered under his dutiful ministrations. Ominis felt the movement and groaned in blatant appreciation, taking advantage of the newfound space to siddle down the bed and kneel comfortably between your legs, and all the while his finger continued to pump in and out of your wet heat languidly. He bestowed another toe-curling kiss upon your lips before breaking away to slide fully down the mattress, your heart stuttering in your chest as he moved low enough to settle between your quivering thighs. It was impossible to overlook the animalistic expression on Ominis’ face as he gazed in your direction– following the sound of your barely there whimpers– and your blood ignited in your veins at the sight. 

All too eager, Ominis wasted little time in securing his grip around your waist with his free arm to better pull you harder onto his finger. The keening sound that slipped from your throat was replaced almost instantly by a guttural moan, drawn forth by the feeling of your lover’s lips latching around your clit to suck enthusiastically, and your head thunked against the headboard as wave after wave of sheer pleasure cascaded through you. 

Your thighs absentmindedly clenched on either side of Ominis’ head as he shamelessly pulled your bundle of nerves into his mouth, the action accompanied by wet, perverted sounds that had damn near all the blood in your body rushing to your cheeks. “Merlin, Ominis– fuck–” 

Beyond a throaty growl, he said nothing. He simply tightened his hold on your waist, his other hand angling itself so he could better curl the finger inside of you, the combined sensations making your head positively spin. Entirely at his mercy, your hands flew to his soft, blond hair as you effectively surrendered to the pure bliss he granted you. 

If you had been hot and wet already, Ominis’ mouth felt a thousand times more so as he torturously dragged his tongue up your cunt. He removed his finger from your clenching walls and replaced it with the wet muscle, wriggling it as much as he could as though he were desperate to lap up everything that escaped out of you. Your breathing hitched and your hips involuntarily bucked when his ministrations traveled higher towards your clit, and when he finally reached it, the tip of his tongue was slow and methodical as he pressed firm, torturous circles around the throbbing bundle.

Ordinarily, having Ominis appreciatively go down on you would have been the highlight of the night, but given his domineering persona at present, you knew you were just plain fucked now. 

“Ominis, please,” you managed to croak out. “I’m not going to last, I– ah!” You practically yelped when the tips of the man’s teeth raked along your inner thigh, nipping at the soft skin there hard enough for you to jolt. 

“Just relax and let me work,” he muttered coolly, pressing a featherlight kiss to the spot he’d bitten as he dragged his hands down your abdomen to squeeze your tensing thighs. 

Despite your best efforts, you were quickly losing your grip on anything other than the sensations Ominis was lavishing you with. You felt lightheaded as you attempted to release your tense muscles, struggling to do so as your lover devoured you with reckless abandon. His nose brushed against your clit as he slipped his tongue inside of you once more, the sound of his wet, suckling noises intermingling with your breathy whines as you felt your climax building higher and higher in your gut. You couldn’t tell if your arousal was stemming from how Ominis enthusiastically used his tongue, lips, and teeth on you or if it came from the demanding way he directed you, but you decided that you didn’t care; every feeling had burrowed deep inside of you and taken root in your mind. 

You wanted more– no, needed more. 

Head whacking back against the wooden bed frame, you needily tugged at the strands of his hair wrapped around your fingers as you pleaded, “Please, Ominis, I need you…” 

Those five words did more to stroke his ego than you would ever know. Right now, Ominis needed you to need him. He wanted you to succumb to his ministrations and bend to his will, all to parry the baseless demands of his deranged family. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would ever willingly hand you over to them– much less to Marvolo– and through your rapture-filled begging, he knew he had succeeded. 

You were wholly and unequivocally his. 

He pulled away for a moment to run his hands up your thighs, over your hips, then along the pebbled peaks of your breasts. The way you trembled at his touch told him everything he needed to know; you were hanging on by a thread, and he didn’t need to see you in order to know you looked absolutely wrecked. 

Unable to endure a second more of the teasing, Ominis raised himself up on his knees to remove his clothing. Swiftly and efficiently, he dexterously undid the catch of his trousers before shoving the constricting attire down his narrow hips. There was no stopping the sigh of relief that spilled through his clenched teeth as his cock finally sprung free– long, heavy, and leaking from the red, swollen tip. With his shirt disheveled, hair mussed, and pants haphazardly hanging below his hip bones, he was truly the picture of temptation. You stared up at him through hooded eyes as he stroked himself a few times, taking in the sight of your lover towering over you as you lay prone atop the sheets beneath him. 

Once again, Ominis’ uncanny ability to feel your eyes on him surprised you, and a cheshire-like smirk blossomed across his face as he asked, “Enjoying the view?” 

“More than you are, I’d wager,” you retorted, and Ominis scoffed as his smug expression turned into one of amused disbelief. That mouth of yours was bound to land you in trouble one of these days. 

“Smartass,” he murmured affectionately, keeping one hand on his shaft as the other reached down in search of your waist, squeezing the flesh there with a bruising strength that only served to intensify the ache between your legs. You aided him by wriggling down the sheets in order to press your ass against his bent knees, and Ominis lowered himself once more so the heavy weight of his cock rested against your spit-slick folds. It was hard for you to believe that the wild haired, smokey-eyed man kneeling between your legs was the same boy who had shyly walked with you to your classes all those years ago. Both of his hands pressed against your hips this time as he sat back on his heels, white teeth flashing as he aligned the head of his manhood against your entrance. 

“Are you ready for me, darling?” Ominis asked, as though you hadn’t been begging for this very outcome minutes before. 

“Yes,” you breathed out shakily, your hands twisting in the fabric of your long-abandoned bathrobe beneath you. “I’m–”

Despite his privileged upbringing, Ominis was a fan of the simple things in life. Good food, long walks during the warmer seasons, and the sound of your voice catching when he took you by surprise and slid inside you abruptly. In one fluid motion, he breached your walls, listening intently to your sharp intake of breath as he inched himself forward until his knees were under your rear and he’d bottomed out completely. The small whimper that slipped from your mouth had a deep, throaty chuckle escaping his, and his thumbs took to tracing encouraging circles against your hips as you clenched around him. 

“I’m sure you are,” he purred in an infuriatingly sexy tone while you struggled to regain control over your breathing. Instantly, the dim embers of lust within you were rekindled, every inch of your body warm and borderline electric. Your hips writhed in Ominis’ hold in an attempt to wriggle closer, the unyielding grip he had on you coupled with the hungry expression on his face almost enough to make you come undone then and there. 

“Fuck, Ominis–” your words were cut short by a stifled moan as the blond slowly withdrew himself, arching back until only the tip of his cock was inside you before slamming his hips forward in one quick, sharp thrust. Your hands flew to his clothed knees as you dug your nails into the rumpled material of his trousers, desperate to touch every inch of him that you could but struggling to catch your breath in the midst of his slow, methodical thrusts. 

Well, methodical at first. 

You could feel Ominis’ acute desire for you with every pump of his hips, and a groan snaked its way out of his chest as he freed one of his hands to reach down and thumb over your clit. You hissed triumphantly through your teeth as you saw his expression slowly shift into something needier, his thrusts becoming less precise and more visceral. With how tight he was gripping you, you were positive the healed bruise from earlier would be replaced by long, finger shaped stripes, but you didn’t care. If it was Ominis, it was fine. If it was him claiming you, branding you, consuming you, it was more than fine. 

The blue-eyed incubus above you seemed to think similarly, if the low rumble in his chest was anything to go by. He was absolutely lost in the euphoria that came with being encased in your pulsing, tight heat, causing him to abandon his pretenses of control and give into his want for you with gusto. The hand he had on your sensitive bundle of nerves returned to grasp your waist, and even elevated as he was, he still had to thrust down into you– shaking the headboard with every plunge as he effectively fucked you into the mattress. 

The distinction was clear and evident in your mind as your legs came to wind around Ominis’ waist; the two of you had obviously been intimate before, and you had definitely made love before, but you had never been so carnally fucked like this a day in your life. It was hard to recall if Ominis had ever ravished you with such need in every stroke, enough so that you found yourself unable to control your shaking breaths or the volume of your voice. It was enrapturing– getting caught up in the way he staked his claim on you– so intent on fucking himself harder and deeper into you that his own husky murmurs of your name fell from his lips like a mantra. 

Your inability to fight your moans and curses and feverish pleas for more was what Ominis lived for. The blond craved the sound of your voice like a drug, and he drew unparalleled strength from your vocal satisfaction. Maybe it had more to do with the events of the night than anything else, but hearing you cry his name and feeling you claw at the tops of his thighs made his chest swell with possessive affection, thrilled to hear you unwittingly proclaim that you were in fact his. No one else would ever have you– no one else would ever find themselves lucky enough to have you reduced to such a state beneath them other than him. 

“M-More,” you practically sobbed the request as Ominis gripped your hips tighter, dimly registering the thundering crack of the headboard banging against the wall. “More– please– I’m s-so close–”

You asked for it with each breath expelled from your lungs, and Ominis would graciously give it to you. He couldn’t have refused you any longer if he wanted to. “You want to come, darling?” He panted, receiving only whimpering nods in return. “Ask.” 

“P-Please, please let me come, I can’t–” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as your teeth clenched together hard enough to make your jaw pop. You teetered on the brink of oblivion, waiting only on Ominis’ say-so to fall over the edge which seemed to loom so, so close. 

“Beg,” Ominis rasped thickly, his fingers tightening and digging into the skin of your hips as he bucked harder against your ass. “Beg for it– beg for me to let you come.” 

You couldn’t even find the brainpower to realize he was demanding to hear you say it to fuel his unrepentant hold on you. The taunting, the pleasure laced brutality– it was all to assuage the bitter anger that had coursed through his veins upon hearing his family refer to you as tradeable cattle. Later on, he would be collected enough to reassure you that you were your own person, free to make your own decisions and go wherever your heart desired. 

Right now though, his baser urges had won out, and he needed to hear you say it. 

Your head slammed into the pillows as your back arched off the mattress, doing your best to shut out the mounting pleasure that threatened to break through your crumbling resolve. “Please, Ominis! Please let me–” you hiccuped around another gasp, the ache in your gut bordering on unbearable. “L-Let me… let me…”

One of his hands released your waist to feel up your torso and curl around the back of your neck, lifting your head off of the pillow so your eyes were on him as he uttered five words that struck something deep inside of you. 

“Then come for me, love.” 

Your breaking point smacked into you hard and fast, leaving you equally breathless and brainless as your mouth fell open around a long, drawn out cry of Ominis’ name. Your climax ripped through you ferociously, your vision flashing white and your muscles tensing for a moment of near perfect silence as your lover continued to thrust in and out of you with unwavering focus. Even after you’d collapsed back against the sheets and gone limp in his arms, Ominis continued to chase his own finish, balancing precariously over you on his elbows and burying his face in the crook of your neck to muffle the shaky groans he failed to bite back. 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he continued to murmur quiet declarations against your skin that sounded a lot like, “Mine.” 

Before long, Ominis was following you over the edge with a throaty purr that slithered out of his throat. His arms trembled on either side of your head, his hands gathering fistfuls of the pillows as he buried himself completely inside of you with one final plunge of his hips. You heard the blond moan hoarsely in your ear as he spilled into you, grinding against your ass to milk every last drop of his seed from his twitching member, and when he mouthed wetly against the sweat-slick column of throat before biting down, all you could focus on was the warmth that filled you as you quivered under him. 

After a few moments of the two of you panting softly, you lifted your hands to Ominis’ clothed back in a bid to usher him to the side. He tensed, however, and you paused as he wedged one of his arms under your back to hold you flush to him as he continued to re-center himself. “Not yet,” you heard him grumble into the hollow of your throat. “Not yet… give me a second.” 

“…Alright,” you relented quickly, only mildly concerned as you wrapped your arms around his slender shoulders. With your fingers tracing lazy shapes against his clothed back, you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling of Ominis’ weight pressing down on you, his gentle exhales fanning against your clammy skin, and the steady rhythm of his heart beating against your sternum. 

Given the severity of what had happened at his family’s house, you weren’t sure the two of you would ever get another moment like this again. So, you held on tightly to him in the hopes that the night would last just a little bit longer. 

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours but realistically could only have been a few minutes, and shortly after Ominis began peppering kisses up your throat and along your jaw, your eyes drifted shut as you dozed off once more. When you woke the following morning and found yourself tucked in beneath the sheets, you propped yourself up on your elbow to glance around the otherwise empty room, noting immediately that Ominis was nowhere to be found. 

In a panicked flurry of movement, you threw off the blankets and were still tying your robe around your waist as you hurriedly shuffled down the hallway. Your dread was smothered in the next instant by overwhelming ease as you rounded the corner to find Ominis in the kitchen, gripping the countertop and working a muscle in his jaw while he hovered his wand over a letter that looked eerily similar to the one he’d received just a day ago. 

Even though he could hear you approaching, he said nothing as you padded across the room to stand behind him, coiling your arms around his waist to press your front against his back. A shaky sigh escaped him, and you stared at the wall as you contemplated your words before deciding on, “What are you reading?” 

A pause, “A formal summons for you, inviting you to meet my family officially.” 

Your heart fell into your stomach, arms tightening around the taller man a fraction as you pursed your lips in blatant distaste. “We won’t go,” you announced, and Ominis shifted in your embrace so he could wrap his arms around you to hug you back with a firmness that spoke volumes of his agreement. 

“We won’t,” he said. “But we can’t stay here, either. Not anymore.” 

“I know.” 

He buried his chin in the mess of hair atop your head, shamelessly inhaling your scent before he told you, “We have to leave– go somewhere far away– and we can’t tell anyone.” 

“I know.” 

The way his nimble fingers gripped the back of your robe told you of just how conflicted he was to ask this of you– to uproot your shared lives here to flee the meddling of his family. His voice was laced with remorse as he asked, “And you’re okay with that? Truly?”

“I am,” and you really were. There wasn’t a lick of hesitation in your voice– not a shred of apprehension hidden in your tone at the prospect of packing up and running as far from here as humanly possible. “So long as we’re together, I am.” 

Ominis skimmed his hands up your back to cup your cheeks, angling your head up at him so he could kiss you fully, and you returned the gesture with equal fervor. As long as he was with you, you knew you could do anything. With Ominis by your side, you would fight tooth and nail against every hellish creature or person in existence to ensure your future together. 

Wherever the two of you ended up, you already knew that your home wouldn’t just be some place. It would always be him.

[witchyafterdark]

GAUNT MANOR PROJECT UPDATED

Gaunt Manor: Secret Peek

I've decided to put in the main antechamber of what will be the 'secret' sublevel of the manor, which will consist of watered cave systems that tie together a few epic spaces. It's meant to represent how the system stretches out beneath the frozen lake above.

Now, I have a question for those following. I take tons of photos all through my work to make sure I'm creating the right feel. Are you all interested in seeing more mood pics on their own, besides the update posts?

I wouldn't want to overshare and bore people.

[meizze-art]

So... is THIS what really brought you to the Gaunt Manor?