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lqveharrington · 2 months ago

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Someday | D.M.

summary: you and draco are from opposing houses, and you were terrified how your friends were going to react when they found out.

pairing: draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader

includes: secret relationship, kissing, arguing, lots of fluff but also angst, draco and reader are SOOO in love

a/n: kind of a before ‘the alchemy’ fic but not necessarily (i love writing hufflepuff reader and totally not because im a hufflepuff…)

You were three years into dating the Slytherin Prince. Three years of secret love and longing glances from across the classroom. Three years of your friends not knowing. You never meant for three years to pass by without letting your friends know that you were dating someone they. Hell, they thought you were going to be alone forever because you refused to go on dates with anyone they suggested. You were just terrified to see how they would react to you dating Draco Malfoy himself.

“Hi, my darling.” Draco smiled when you found him in your favorite section of the library. He tilted your head up by the chin and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, feeling you grin into his kiss. “How are you?”

You slot your hand in his hand spin his family signet, shrugging as you found a lack of words. “I guess tired. I helped Madame Pomfrey with a student who hurt himself trying a puking pastille thinking it was a normal gummy.”

“Look at you being a healer. Already starting early.” He thumbed your palm and let out a soft chuckle when you scrunched your nose. “M’gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

“Such a flirt, Malfoy. If I knew any better, I would think you like me.” You giggle with a lopsided smile and press a kiss to his lips. You felt his hand travel to the curve of your waist, holding you gently against him. “Wow, take me on a date first.”

He shushed you and pulled you around, tucking you away from the prying eyes looking down the aisles. Draco squeezed your waist when the people left and softly lifted your head off his chest.

“There were people.” He murmured and rubbed the bottom of your chin, eyes looking across your face. “I know you don��t want anyone here to know just yet.”

You purse your lips and nod, glancing down the aisle in thought. You knew how much he wanted everyone to know about the both of you, but he respected your wishes. Sighing, you rest your forehead on his chest and shut your eyes. It was going to be a long year.

As weeks and eventually months passed, you still hadn’t told your friends about your relationship. It resulted into longing glances from across the room and quick touches whenever you passed the other in the hall. However, your friends soon caught onto you, and they wanted to get to get to the bottom of your secret relationship.

“You have to at least tell us how long you’ve been together.” Hannah Abbott took your hands in hers and squeezed them, practically bouncing in excitement in the courtyard. “I want to know everything!”

She spun around the courtyard, making you laugh. Susan Bones sighed and rested her head on your shoulder, also curious to who this mystery person was. “Hannah, I’m sure they haven’t been dating for that long, right?”

You give her a glance and avert your eyes, face flushing pink. “We’ve been dating for a good while.”

“Like how long?” Hannah spun her way back over to you and squinted. You pursed your lips and looked down at your shoes. “It’s been more than a year?”

“Three years, actually.” You murmur and cover your ears when both girls squeal in joy before realizing what this meant. You raised your brows when they looked at you like you were crazy. “What?”

“You’ve been dating someone for three whole years and haven’t told us about it? How rude!” Susan crossed her arms and stuck her chin up, making you sigh.

Hannah looked between the two of you in concern. She knew that you were an over thinker, but she never thought you would keep anything that big away from your best friends. Especially three years worth of friendship without knowing of your relationship.

“How about we talk about this later when we don’t have classes to get to?” She tried to defuse the tension between the two of you, doing her best to avoid anymore fighting. “I’m sure we have a lot to debrief after herbology.”

“Darling?” Draco stumbled back a little when you ran into his arms, holding you tight against him. He pressed a kiss to your head, albeit confused to your sudden rush but knowing you needed it. “What’s wrong?”

“Just hold me for a little bit.” You mumble into his suit and find his hand, fiddling with his fingers. Your breathing slowly evened out as you listened to his heart beat and messed with his ring, shutting your eyes for a split second. “Sorry. I needed a second to just breathe.”

He clicked his tongue and tilted his head to meet your eyes, “You don’t have to apologize for that.” Draco slowly maneuvered the both of you down to the floor of the astronomy tower and let you continue to play with his fingers, sitting side by side as the sun began to set. “Tell me what happened, my love.”

You stayed quiet for a little while and stared at his palm, letting the wind blow gently through your hair before speaking. “Susan got upset that I never told her about us and Hannah isn’t sure which side to take.” You rest your head on his shoulder and look at the colors of the sky. “Right after herbology, Hannah wanted us to talk it through but Susan refused and left straight for the common room.”

Draco listened intently to your words, his thumb tracing hearts into your palm. He was shocked to hear your friend blatantly ignore your own feelings and avoiding having to talk it through. It wasn’t like you were doing it without reason. Any person would be shocked to see a Hufflepuff and Slytherin dating.

“I knew we were meeting up here so I just came up early.” You finished and finally lace your hands together, looking up at him with so much emotion. “Sorry if I worried you.”

“Stop saying sorry.” He murmured and looked down at you, his beautiful gray and blue eyes meeting your own. “You needed a moment, darling, it’s alright.”

The fading sky soon darkened to the night sky you and Draco loved so much. Like always, the first thing you would do is point out his constellation, the dragon made of the prettiest stars. However, your moment was soon interrupted with the clambering of feet up the astronomy stairs.

“Susan, she always comes up here after dinner.” You heard Hannah say, almost out of breath from how many stairs she walked up. It wasn’t like she took astronomy classes.

Draco went to move away from you, but you refused to move. You figured it was time for them to put the pieces together. Besides, there wasn’t much places to hide up here.

As their steps got closer and eventually on the balcony, you could barely make out their bodies until Hannah used lumos to light up her wand. She found you much faster in the process, but the shock that covered her face made you want to hide in the darkness forever.

“Hi.” You murmur and look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your emotions in check.

As if he could feel you in the verge of tears, Draco squeezed your hand and allowed you to play with his fingers again. He didn’t look over at the girls, only keeping his eyes on you. The moment your eyes met, Draco nodded his head toward the girls and murmured words of encouragement to you.

Your name fell from Hannah’s lips, making you look over at her. “Why didn’t you just tell us?”

You purse your lips and tighten your grip on Draco, pulling his ring until you held it in your palm. The tension between the four of you was thickening, but you knew something had to happen.

“I don’t know… I figured you guys wouldn’t like it because— Well, it’s Malfoy.” You say quietly and look at Draco with little amusement, earning an eye roll back from him. “And it’s not like I meant to hide this for so long, I just got scared.”

Hannah and Susan looked at each other before looking over at you, watching Draco continue to whisper words when you rested your forehead on his shoulder. They saw how much he cared for you and how much you meant to him. When he slipped his signet to your finger and you moved to smile up at him to press a kiss to his lips, they knew this was it for you.

“You apologize right now, Susan.” Hannah whisper-shouted to her, shoving her forward. “They’re clearly in love and she was just scared about our opinion because they belong to two completely different houses!”

“We can hear you.” Draco spoke to them for the first time, his voice clear to the two girls.

They froze and looked toward the blonde, wincing when they saw him raise his brows. Hannah let out an awkward laugh and stepped closer, nudging Susan once more.

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, “Listen, I didn’t mean for you to get upset. I just felt offended that you would leave me and Hannah out of such an important detail in your life. I mean, we would’ve been a little skeptic, but we can see how much you two love each other.” Susan looked over at Hannah and smiled when she nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, we love you! We just felt left out but I get it. I know it can feel scary to tell others about something that could change someone’s opinion on you.” Hannah kneeled and took your hands from Draco’s, squeezing them softly. “But we will always love you.”

You smiled and hugged her tightly, burying your head in her shoulder. Hannah laughed and hugged you back with the same fervor, Susan joining after you reached a hand out to her.

Draco — knowing you needed a minute — stood up and watched you. The smallest smile creeping up on his face when you opened your eyes with the biggest smile on your face. Your fears were diminished. Your friends supported you in all you did, and Draco knew that you would always have your friends no matter what.

Even if they took a second to understand, they came around in the end because they loved you. And they knew Draco loved you just as much.

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thecharacterchronicler · 9 months ago

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Bloodline (Part 1) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.

Word count: 4’515

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.

(( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.

Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.

Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.

He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.

He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”

“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.

“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”

“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.

“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I am not.”

“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.

“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.

“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.

His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.

And now you were going to be one of them.

He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.

Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”

“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..

“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”

You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”

Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.

If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.

“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.

“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.

“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”

“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.

“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…

So please, say yes.

His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.

By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.

He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.

His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.

He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.

The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.

It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.

Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.

The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.

He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.

“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.

To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.

Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.

“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”

Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.

“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.

“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.

You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.

He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.

He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…

“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”

You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.

“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.

He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.

But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.

He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.

“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”

His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.

“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.

“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.

He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.

He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.

It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.

The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.

He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.

He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.

He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”

Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

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cowboybeepboop · 2 months ago

Text

Release

"Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Your friendly coworker Clark takes care of your needs.

a/n: As always I hope you enjoy and send any requests you might have my way!

Clark is your annoyingly perfect coworker, you know the type: always on time, always right, never makes a single mistake, and never has a hair out of place, let alone a stained shirt.

Your irritation grows as you rub the coffee stain from your white button-down, thoughts filled with the idea that you’ll find him at his desk, right next to yours looking as *perfect* as ever.

It's been one thing after the next, first, you saw your long-time boyfriend cheating on you in YOUR apartment with your best friend, then some dumbass hit your car completely totaling it which leaves you taking the subway every morning attempting to be on time yet you always seem to arrive just five minutes late, and now your stupid shirt. Your favorite shirt.

It’s silly to think you’re fighting back tears over a $15 button-down when you didn’t even react to seeing the two most important people in your life raw dogging it on your sheets. Taking deep breaths you adjust your hair, flattening it down, and blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. At least you’re slightly on time, even if it meant leaving home 30 minutes before you'd usually even wake up.

Finally, you give up on the stain coming to terms with the fact that a slight brown tinge is better than being late *again*. You slip into your chair with a quiet huff, pinching the bridge of your nose as you gaze at the clock on the wall. Glancing to your side you see Clark, he's 15 minutes early, smelling like heaven, he looks sleek as always, without a single hair out of place.

Clark catches you looking at him as you huff and puff next to him, he tries not to chuckle at the frown on your face before he turns to you, friendly and unassuming as usual, completely oblivious to any issues you may have. He smiles his signature warm and charming smile.

"Good morning, you're here on time today, finally," he teases, his tone light and innocent, not realizing his words sound like a veiled jab when they fall from his lips.

You turn to him, eyes narrowed in an intense glare. "Mind your own business, Kent." You grumble, your usual (fake) friendliness gone like your ex-boyfriend. Focusing on the computer in front of you, you log on, scrolling through the endless emails.

Clark blinks awkwardly at your response, surprised by the harshness in your voice. He’s not quite used to you snapping at him, sure you have your moments but you’re rarely outright hostile.

He sits back, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, slightly perplexed about how to respond.

Clark hesitates for a moment, debating whether to address your change in tone. Clearing his throat, he tries to keep his tone lighthearted. "Um…is everything okay? You seem a bit, uh…”

He trails off, realizing that nothing he says will help his case and that you may actually bite his head off if he continues. So he shifts slightly in his chair instead, averting his eyes from yours as he pretends to focus on something on his computer.

"Look, Clark." You sigh, turning to him once again, tone much softer this time, "I don't need your pity, there's no need to pretend like you care." you slip out of your chair, heading to the break room to grab another coffee.

Clark raises an eyebrow at your words, his lips curving into a slight frown as he watches you go. He waits a few moments before silently following you, his steps almost soundless as he approaches you at the coffee machine.

He stands behind you, his presence quiet and calm, as he studies your expression before speaking.

"Who said anything about pretending?" He asks, his voice low and earnest.

You're standing on your tippy toes, attempting to reach the coffee on the top shelf of the cabinet. "Why would you care about me and my problems? We're *just* coworkers."

Clark swallows, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest at your dismissive words. He leans against the counter beside you, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he contemplates how to respond.

"Just coworkers..." he mutters softly before sighing quietly, "Right."

He watches you struggle to reach the coffee for a moment, his hands twitching in his pockets as he resists the urge to reach out and grab it for you.

Clark can't tear his eyes away from the way your body stretches and extends with every effort to reach the coffee, the muscles in your thighs and backside taut and prominent as you stand on your tippy toes. It's an unconscious and innocent action, but it's affecting him more than he'd like to admit...

He clears his throat again, shifting his weight and trying to control the thoughts that begin to flood his mind. But as he watches you struggle once more, his restraint is slowly but surely beginning to fray.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, finally managing to grasp the coffee grounds. "I didn't mean it like that Clark." once back on flat feet, you look at him with a gentle expression.

The tension drains from Clark's shoulders as he hears your apology, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. He manages a small smile, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly.

"It's okay," he replies quietly. "I understand. You've clearly got a lot on your plate."

He can't help the way his eyes wander over your figure again, lingering on the way your body moves and molds with each movement. The words "I care" hang on his tongue, but he swallows them back down.

Once the machine starts brewing you lean against the counter, crossing your arms under your breasts as you let out a small strangled sigh. "I didn't mean to snap at you either. I've just got a lot going on.."

Clark's eyes track your movement, watching as you rest against the counter. His eyes seem to linger on the way your arms press against your chest before he manages to force his gaze back up to your face, his cheeks flushing from the heat that spreads through him.

"It's okay," he says again, offering a reassuring smile. "You don't have to explain yourself. I..I get it."

He hesitates for a moment, mulling over his next question before finally swallowing and asking, "Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you're willing to beat up my ex-boyfriend for me," you chuckle dryly, eyes focused on the empty office. Being the two newest employees you're stuck with the early early morning shift.

Clark lets out a small, surprised laugh, the sound rich and warm. He leans back against the counter, mirroring your position as he grins at you.

"Tempting," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "But I think I'd rather help in more...legal ways."

You smile, finding his presence comforting and relaxing, finally putting your restless mind at ease. Your bare thigh brushes over his as you turn to grab a mug, the fabric of your skirt lifting up ever so slightly. "Well, I'll let you know if I can think of anything you can help me with."

The contact sends a jolt of electricity through Clark's veins, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your skin brush against his. He attempts to keep his reaction discreet, but the way his eyes widen slightly betrays his composure.

He swallows, his mind racing as his gaze drifts down to the exposed flesh of your thigh, the smooth skin on display making his thoughts whirl and pulse.

"Yes... Please, let me know," he manages to mutter, his voice thick with an undertone he hadn't intended.

"Want some?" you hold out the mug to him, noticing the way his gaze is trained on your legs, a slight flush creeping up your neck.

Clark is snapped out of his reverie as you hold the mug out to him, his eyes flicking up to yours for a moment before darting down to the mug in your hand again.

He clears his throat and reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the mug. The contact sends another spark of electricity through his body, his cheeks flushing slightly as he quickly averts his eyes.

"Uh...yes, thank you," he stutters, trying to disguise the nerves in his voice.

You notice his strange demeanor, eyebrows furrowing as you fill your cup. "Now it's my turn to ask if everything is alright," keeping your tone playful, you gaze up at him softly.

Clark swallows again, his heart thudding against his chest. He shifts awkwardly on his feet as you question him, his mind racing to find a believable excuse, but failing miserably.

The way you look up at him with such soft, concerned eyes is making it even harder to maintain his composure.

"Uh...yeah, I'm fine," he stammers, forcing a smile. "Just...uh...just a bit tired, that's all."

"And here I thought you were always on the top of your game." you tease softly, reaching to put the coffee back up, sneakily adjusting your skirt so it reveals more of your body.

Clark watches you strain to reach the high shelf, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes he should have helped you get it down in the first place. He steps closer, his body now mere inches away from yours, his chest almost touching your back.

He reaches up and grabs the coffee, his arm brushing against yours in the process. The proximity is enough to send another shiver down his spine. He places the coffee back on the shelf before turning to you, his voice softer this time. "Next time, just ask for my help."

"Clark.." you breathe out his name, shocked by the electricity his touch fills you with. "I, uh, could've put it back myself you know."

Clark freezes, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of his name slipping from your lips. He could swear he was imagining the way you breathed his name, the way it sounded almost like...like a gasp.

He lets out a small huff, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I know," he says quietly, his eyes fixed on yours. "But I wanted to help."

"Mhm..." you murmur, gaze trained on his muscular body as heat rises in your cheeks. Your heart pounds in your chest, something about the way he touched you makes you heated.

Clark's chest tightens as he registers the way your eyes rake over his frame, his skin burning in the wake of your gaze as you take him in. He swallows, the sound seeming louder than normal to his heightened senses.

The subtle shift in your breathing, the hint of flustered color adorning your cheeks, the heat radiating from your body... all of it feeds into the growing tension between you two.

"Clark," you step closer to him, gathering all the confidence you can. "There is *something* you could do to help me..."

Clark's heart thuds harder, the closeness of your body almost intoxicating as he feels heat begin to pool in his gut. He inhales sharply, the scent of you clouding his senses as he struggles to focus on your words.

His voice is low and gruff when he responds, barely a whisper, "Anything."

"I want.." you take a steadying breath, "I want you." you press your fingers into his side, pulling his body closer to yours.

Clark's breath hitches as he feels your fingers press into his side, a shudder coursing through him as you pull his body against yours. He lets out a soft, involuntary moan as he feels the heat of your body against his, every nerve in his body on fire with need.

He looks down at you, his eyes wide and dilated, the last few remnants of restraint finally giving in. "Christ..." he mutters under his breath.

"There’s no one here right now," You bite on your bottom lip, knee sliding between his legs as you press against his groin.

Clark lets out a hiss, his breath hitching once more as he feels the heat and friction of your body press against his. The unexpected sensation of your knee between his legs sends a jolt of pleasure through him, his hips involuntarily bucking against you as he fights to keep control.

His voice is a low, ragged growl as he responds, "You're not playing fair.."

"I'm not.." you murmur, fingers moving to unbutton his slacks, "I never play fair,"

Clark's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your fingers on his slacks, his body frozen as he watches you undo them, freeing his erection from the confines of his clothes. The feel of your touch, the implication behind your actions, is driving him crazy.

He lets out a strangled moan, his breath ragged and irregular. "This...this isn't...we shouldn't be doing this here," he stammers, his voice lacking conviction as his eyes remain fixed on your hands.

"Exactly... That's what makes it so," you press a kiss to his jaw, "exhilarating"

The feeling of your lips against his jaw is enough to send Clark over the edge, any shred of restraint he had left evaporating into thin air.

He lets out a breathless growl, the sound thick and heavy with desire, as his hands reach out to grip your hips. His grasp is firm, the strength in his hands evident as he pulls you even closer to him, his body flush against yours.

"You...you're killing me.." he groans, the heat pooling in his stomach almost unbearable.

Clark's mind is reeling, the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch driving him crazy as he lifts you onto the counter, his movements surprisingly precise and controlled despite the whirlwind of desire coursing through him.

As he pushes your skirt up, revealing your bare thighs, he lets out a low, guttural sound, his eyes fixed on the sight of your body in front of him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this..." he murmurs huskily, his voice strained with desperate need.

“Clark, please… I need you,” you whine, body aching with months of unfulfilled desire. Your ex never quite knew how to use those 4 inches.

Clark's breath hitches, his heart thudding in his chest as he hears the pleading tone in your voice, the sound nearly breaking him in an instant. It's doing something to him, to his ego and his emotions.

He leans in, his lips against your ear as he whispers, "Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.." he spreads your legs, pulling you to the edge of the counter, pressing his tip against your aching cunt.

Your face contorts in pleasure, the gentleness of his touch, the desire behind his eyes, and the idea of being caught, all of it is working to make you ache even more.

He slowly slides into you, moaning as your pussy stretches around his thickness. Clark keeps his thrusts slow, gently working his way deeper inside you, and your nails immediately dig into his shoulders.

“Fuck, fuck,” you’re intoxicated by his touch, “mm so big.” you moan needily, hole clenching around him. He groans, large hands moving across your frame as he finally bottoms out, his tip hitting the pleasure point in you.

“Is this okay?” He cups your face, pressing soft kisses to your lips as he gives you time to adjust.

Clark’s question hangs in the air as you both pant and tremble from the intensity of the moment. You nod fervently, your eyes never leaving him, the silent communication speaking volumes of your need. He takes that as his cue, his gentle touch turning to one of urgency as he begins to move within you.

His strokes are deep and deliberate, each one hitting that spot that has you clinging to him tighter, your moans growing louder with every passing second. The office around you fades away as you become lost in the sensation, your mind racing with the illicit thrill of doing something so taboo with your coworker.

His kisses become more passionate, his tongue claiming your mouth as he picks up the pace, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing in the quiet space. The tension between you two has been building for months, a dance of wills and glances, and now it’s all culminating in this desperate, passionate embrace.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his firm ass, urging him deeper with every thrust. The break room becomes a cocoon of passion, the only sounds are your muffled cries of pleasure and his grunts of effort.

The friction between you builds a delicious pressure that demands release. You can feel him swell within you, his need matching yours. Your breaths become gasps, and your eyes widen as the first waves of orgasm crash through your body, tightening around him. "Clark...I'm gonna..." you manage to breathe, your voice shaking.

Clark's eyes darken with desire as he feels your orgasm approaching, his own need reaching its peak. He increases his rhythm, driving into you with a passion that surprises even him. "Cum for me," he whispers, his voice thick with need.

The sound of your impending climax is his undoing, and he lets out a guttural groan as he joins you, his hips bucking against yours as he fills you with his release.

The aftermath is a haze of heavy breathing and racing hearts, the realization of what you've just done slowly sinking in. You cling to him, your bodies still connected as the tremors of pleasure subside.

Clark's heart is still racing, his body shaking from the intensity of the moment, as he gazes at you, his fingers tracing gently across your face. He's silent, his breath ragged and labored, as he absorbs the enormity of what just happened.

The silence between you is thick and heavy, filled with the weight of what you both just did. Clark's eyes flicker between yours, a mixture of concern and wonder in his expression. Finally, he speaks, his voice rough and low. "Are you..are you okay?"

"More than okay," you murmur, dazed and utterly satisfied. "You're so good, Clark." you slide off the counter, standing on shakey legs.

Clark helps you steady yourself, his strong arms wrapped around your waist to support you as you make your way to the bathroom. He can't help but chuckle softly at your unsteady legs, a mixture of pride and amusement filling him.

Once you're both freshened up and presentable, he walks you back to your desks, his hand resting gently on the small of your back the entire way.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, his voice now smug, his eyes searching your face.

"Much, much better." you grin satisfied by his disheveled appearance. The perfect Clark Kent is barely able to concentrate on his work, his hair is slightly frizzy and out of place, and his shirt is wrinkled, all of it makes your stomach pool with warmth once more.

Clark can't help but chuckle at your satisfied grin, his cheeks flaring with a hint of blush as he realizes the state he's in. He reaches up to straighten his hair, only making it more tousled in the process.

He catches sight of his wrinkled shirt and wrinkled and he lets out a low sigh, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "I look like a complete mess, don't I?" he says, a sheepish grin on his lips.

"A perfect mess," your tone is light, eyes full of admiration.

684 notes · View notes

awkwardauthorwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Friends Don't

Word Count: 4.2k

Themes: fluff, pining

Summary: Y/N comes to a startling revelation when brewing Amortentia in potions class

Warnings: All characters aged up to 18+. Potential spoilers for HL

Meet me in the Common Room, midnight - S

Y/N looked across the cauldrons at Sebastian and nodded once, a small smile on her face. He grinned back, before turning to face Professor Sharp before he could get caught not paying attention.

“Is that a love letter from Sallow?” Imelda leant forward, a teasing smirk on her face.

“Come off it,” Y/N rolled her eyes and tucked the note into her textbook. “You know we’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at friends that way,” she shot a look over at Sebastian, who was standing over his cauldron with a confused look on his face. His brow was furrowed as he looked between his textbook and the potion he was making, which was supposed to be a teal colour, but was currently navy blue. “Point proven.” Y/N turned back to her with an unimpressed glare as she stirred her own potion (which was the correct shade of teal).

“You need a new hobby. Clearly Quidditch isn’t keeping you busy enough.”

“Watching you and Sallow pine after each other like lovesick Crup puppies is my new hobby.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re in denial,” Imelda smiled sweetly as Y/N and turned back to her potion as Professor Sharp made his rounds by their station. He stopped by Sebastian’s smoking cauldron with a sigh and quiet reprimand (You’re usually better than this Mr Sallow) before moving onto the next group of students.

“If you’ve been following the instructions in your books,” Professor Sharp called out, “your potions should start turning pink as you stir it. Once it’s the right shade you may place the final ingredient in.”

Y/N watched in fascination as the contents of her cauldron began to change colour with every clockwise rotation of her wand. Although she had now been attending Hogwarts for two years, magic never failed to amaze her. She couldn’t believe she had gone the majority of her life not knowing it existed. The colour eventually shifted to the pale pink that Professor Sharp had spoken about and Y/N added the crushed moonstone and watched it take on a pearlescent sheen.

“Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Y/L/N. Would you care to share with the class?” Sharp loomed over her shoulder, peering into her cauldron. Y/N watched as the class looked over curiously and caught Sebastian’s eye. He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed with her, and looked down at her potion as if to say well, go on then. She leant forward to smell the contents of the cauldron, trying to decipher the scents coming from in front of her. Petrichor, wildflowers and…oh. Y/N blinked and leant back so she could pick up the coffee beans Sharp had left on each station so they had a palate cleanser. After a quick smell of the bitter grounds she turned to her cauldron again. Oh.

“Well?” Imelda asked her.

“If it’s all the same, Professor. I’d rather not,” Y/N muttered, her face flaming. The class broke into a chorus of whispers, all trying to guess what scent had turned the Hero of Hogwarts a pretty shade of pink. Although it was hidden well, Y/N watched as Sharp’s mouth twitched up in amusement before he moved on from her.

“What did you smell?” Imelda whispered to her. Y/N shook her head, her heart thundering in her chest. She couldn’t tell anyone she had smelled Sebastian’s smoky cologne, the one that seemed to stick to him all day even though he barely used it. Imelda looked between Y/N’s red face and her cauldron before looking across the station to Sebastian and a knowing smirk fell on her features. “Sebastian…” Y/N shot her a warning look, which Imelda pointedly ignored. “What do you smell?”

“Nice try, Imelda,” he chuckled and stirred his own potion. “I’m not falling for that.”

“You’re both no fun.”

“Just because yours is probably something predictable like broom polish doesn’t mean we’re not fun for not wanting to share,” Y/N shot. Imelda let out a laugh and patted her friend’s hand.

“Careful there Y/L/N, I’ve still got some cards up my sleeve for you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Y/N glared at the girl next to her, stomach churning nervously. Imelda just grinned at her before adding her own crushed moonstone to her cauldron, signalling the end of the conversation. Y/N was vaguely aware of Sebastian watching them curiously from across the potions station and turned to face the raven-haired girl next to her, clutching the sleeve of her robes. “Imelda.”

“Calm down,” she laughed quietly and leant in so no one else could hear. “Your not-so-secret crush on Sallow is safe with me. I actually quite enjoy watching you two act like you don’t have feelings for each other.” With a wave of her wand, Imelda tidied her potions station and left the class swiftly, just as the bell rang outside. Y/N cursed the day she met the girl, and more specifically, became friends with her after completing all of her stupid broom trials, and quickly cleaned her own station before leaving the classroom. It wasn’t until she was halfway to the Great Hall for dinner that she realised what Imelda had implied with her parting words.

Sebastian couldn’t have feelings for me, she wondered, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully, could he? No, that’s ridiculous, she shook her head to rid herself of the assumption.

“Careful, Y/N,” a hand grabbed the back of her robes and gently tugged her back a couple of steps before she could fall off the Grand Staircase. “You’re usually more aware than this, where did you go?” Sebastian looked concerned and pulled her away from a crowd of students that was walking their way. Y/N looked up at him, craning her neck more than she used to when they met in fifth year. Sometime in the summer between fifth and sixth year Sebastian had really come into his own. He had always been attractive, but somewhere along the way, without her really noticing, he had suddenly shot up and filled out. The jumper he wore to fight the perpetual chill in the dungeons did little to cover up the muscle that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“Dinner, I’m starving,” she lied, freeing her robes from his grasp so she could continue to walk towards the Great Hall. “How’s Ominis? I haven’t heard from him much since he went on his unsanctioned visit to see Anne.” Although he grumbled like he was annoyed, Y/N knew deep down Sebastian was a little pleased that his best friend and sister had finally started to court a few months ago. Apparently watching Ominis pretend he hadn’t been in love with her since they were children was sickening to say the least.

Y/N was relieved when Anne reached out to Sebastian at the beginning of their final year at Hogwarts and extended an olive branch. She watched as Sebastian had read the initial letter, a wide smile on his face and unshed tears in his eyes before he brandished the piece of parchment at her excitedly. The twins weren’t as close as they used to be, but they were slowly mending the bridge that had burned down with their Uncle’s untimely death.

“Where do you keep going? What are you thinking about?” Sebastian asked her. His hand came out to smooth the crease in between her eyes, lingering for a moment before he pulled away.

“You.”

“Oh really?” he arched an eyebrow, a sly smile falling on his lips. “Is this where you finally admit I’m the most handsome student at Hogwarts?”

“I thought you had three years worth of self-imposed trophies to say just that.”

“Yes, but none of those mean anything without your agreement.” Something danced behind Sebastian’s eyes, a look Y/N couldn’t quite decipher. She was used to his charming nature and the confidence he seemed to exude, but every so often he said something and paired it with a look that was different. He looked…uncertain? Hopeful, maybe.

“I didn’t realise my opinions held so much weight for you.”

“And here I thought it was obvious that I hold you in the highest regard.” The air around them changed. Y/N couldn’t pinpoint it exactly - it wasn’t tense, but she felt a palpable shift in energy. She looked away from him and hoped he couldn’t see the blush that she felt rise to her cheeks as she walked into the Great Hall and made her way to the Slytherin table. She found Poppy seated with Imelda, heads bent together as they chatted quietly. They looked up as Sebastian and Y/N sat down, and a downright devilish grin was plastered on Imelda’s face.

“The rumours about what you can smell in Amortentia and refused to share in class are already circling.”

“Don’t start,” Y/N groaned as Sebastian filled her plate with food.

“The majority seem to think you can smell something that relates to Sebastian or Ominis,” Poppy added.

“Ominis?” Sebastian stopped filling Y/N’s glass with pumpkin juice, his tone incredulous. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

“How would you know?” Imelda shot at him. “Has Y/N told you what she could smell?”

“This whole conversation is ridiculous,” Y/N cut in, rolling her eyes. She grabbed the large bowl of mashed potatoes and spooned some onto Sebastian’s plate.

“It’s not that bad, Y/N,” Poppy gave her a reassuring smile. “I think it’s sweet. What you can actually smell, that is.” Y/N paused, the piece of chicken intended for Sebastian’s plate wobbling precariously on the serving spoon.

“How do you know what she can smell?” Sebastian looked up at her sharply, though there was no malice in his voice.

“Imelda told me.”

“Imelda,” Y/N hissed at the girl across the table from her at the same time Sebastian gave her a reproachful look.

“You told Imelda?”

“I didn’t tell her anything,” Y/N protested. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She could hear a few of her classmates around them mutter about her, all supplying options for what she could smell in the love potion. “I think I’m going to grab something from the kitchens instead,” Y/N stood and quickly made her way out of the hall before any of them could follow her. The moment Y/N was out of earshot Imelda leant across the table to hit Sebastian across the back of his head.

“Ow,” he rubbed his head and gave the raven-haired girl a disapproving glare, “what was that for?”

“You’re an absolute idiot, Sebastian Sallow.”

“Imelda…” Poppy nudged the girl gently before offering Sebastian a sympathetic smile. “What she means is - ”

“Oh, I have no doubt she meant it.” Later Sebastian would vehemently deny to anyone that he was pouting like a scolded child after being accosted by Imelda Reyes, but at that current moment all he could do was sulk as he pushed some peas around his plate.

“I did,” Imelda offered him a saccharine smile and shrugged unapologetically at Poppy, who looked disappointed at the pair. “If you don’t go after what you want, Sallow, others are going to take it from you.”

“Y/N isn’t some belonging that people can just have, least of all me. She’s a person with her own thoughts and feelings.”

“Who said I was talking about Y/N?” Sebastian’s head shot up to meet Imelda’s self-satisfied smirk and let out a low groan. “My point is,” she continued as he (rather dramatically, Imelda thought) lay his head down to rest on the table, “you’re in Slytherin. We’re ambitious to a fault, and when we know what we want we strive to achieve and obtain it. What’s stopping you from going after Y/N?”

“We’re just friends.” The lie Sebastian muttered on a daily basis felt thin to even his ears, and clearly neither Imelda or Poppy was impressed either.

“Why could you smell her in the Amortentia then?” Poppy asked.

“How did you know I - oh. I’m impressed, Sweeting. That was very Slytherin of you,” Sebastian laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “What would you both have me say then? Y/N I’ve been in love with you since fifth year when we fought a troll together in Hogsmeade?” he asked rhetorically. If his face wasn’t red with embarrassment before, it was now as the words slipped out of his mouth. “I don’t - I mean, I do? I think. I didn’t mean - ” His stammers were interrupted by Poppy’s quiet laugh.

“Oh Sebastian, you don’t need a pair of working eyes to know that you’re in love with Y/N Y/L/N. I think the only person oblivious to your feelings is Y/N herself.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I ruin our friendship?” he asked quietly. The girls shared a look, and if Sebastian would have looked at either of them he would have noticed a silent conversation happening between the pair.

“Okay, look. I told Y/N I wasn’t going to tell you this, but you’re behaving like a lovesick second year and it’s making me sick,” Imelda flicked a pea at Sebastian in disdain. “Now, I can’t confirm it, but I strongly suspect that her Amortentia did smell of you.” Sebastian gave her a disbelieving look and sent the pea back across the table at her. “I agree that it lacks proof, but I do happen to know for a fact that she does have feelings for you. She told me herself.”

“She what?” That caught Sebastian’s attention, and that of a few people around them as well. Imelda shot them all a glare and they quickly turned back to their own conversations.

“If you tell her I told you I will hunt you down like the animal you are and use you as target practice for the beaters. I know where you sleep, Sallow.”

“She…” Sebastian was at a loss for words as he looked at Poppy for confirmation, who nodded uncertainly in agreement. “I need to go speak to her,” he muttered, more to himself than the girls in front of him. He continued to murmur quietly to himself as he hauled himself up and out of the Great Hall, his expression wavering between surprise and bliss as he left.

“When did Y/N tell you she liked Sebastian?” Poppy asked once he had left.

“Oh, she didn’t. But I think we can both agree neither of them was going to do anything without a nudge, don’t you? Could you pass the pumpkin juice?”

Y/N let out a quiet sigh as she snuck back into the Slytherin Common Room. It was nearing midnight, and although she wanted nothing more than to fall into her bed she trudged through the silent room instead to sit and wait for Sebastian by the fireplace. After leaving the Great Hall, Y/N had trekked her way up to the Room of Requirement to spend some time taking care of the various magical beasts in her vivarium. The animals couldn’t pester her like people did, asking her questions she didn’t want to answer, and worst, ones she didn’t have the answers to. She couldn’t understand why everyone was pushing their way into her business; why did it matter what (or who, she thought dryly) she could smell in the Amortentia? So what if she could smell Sebastian, and who was Imelda freaking Reyes to tell her she had feelings for her best friend.

Well, Y/N chewed on her lower lip as she stared into the dying embers, he was rather handsome. Something he would take great satisfaction in if she admitted it out loud. And she supposed, if she was really thinking about it, he was quite funny, and charming, and smart, and possibly the kindest person she knew, and - oh Merlin, she had feelings for Sebastian Sallow.

He was her best friend, and hadn’t her aunt always told her those made for the best life partners? Not someone who you just existed with, but someone who knew you, knew every part of you, and would still stand by you. Not that she was thinking about spending the rest of her life with him. Y/N felt a blush rise to her cheeks as an unwarranted image of her in a white dress and Sebastian looking absolutely striking in a suit came to mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A low voice startled her, and Y/N pressed a hand to her chest as she took note of Sebastian sitting in the armchair next to her. He bit his lip in amusement at her shock, but was smart enough to keep his comments to himself.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough to watch you groan to yourself twice and turn the most enticing shade of pink,” he teased. “Where do you keep going today?”he asked, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?” Sebastian offered. Yes, Y/N thought to herself, you can start by bathing in bubotuber pus.

“I’ll be fine, Sebastian. There’s no need to fret.”

“You battle trolls for fun, I think there is some need to fret.”

“You’ve battled more than one troll with me, too.”

“Ah, but there’s the obvious difference. You don’t worry for me the same way.”

“You can’t mean that,” Y/N sat upright in her chair, a withering glare on her features. “Of course I worry about you, you idiot.”

“Why is everyone calling me an idiot tonight?”

“Clearly it’s warranted,” Y/N sniffed in annoyance and sank back down into her seat. How dare he say she didn’t worry for him, all she’s done for the past two years was worry about him.

Sebastian could tell he had said the wrong thing. He knew - of course he knew - that she worried and cared for him. No one else would have witnessed and experienced everything they had together in their fifth year and still stood by him afterwards. It was never a question to Y/N whether he needed forgiving. Even Ominis, who had been with him since before he could remember, needed a while to come back around and speak to Sebastian again, but she didn’t. Granted, it had taken a couple of weeks as things had happened in quick succession, from the death of his uncle, to fighting Harlow, then Rookwood, to finally defeating Ranrok; but there Y/N was, sitting next to him at Professor Fig’s memorial, silent tears running down her face as she clutched his hand tightly for comfort.

“I apologise,” he reached out to take her hand. “It seems I’m not quite done putting my foot in my mouth whenever you’re around.”

“Yes, it seems so.” Her words were flat, but she squeezed his hand back gently to let him know all was forgiven. Sebastian had the overwhelming urge to take Y/N into his arms and never let go, but also reprimand her at the same time. She was always the first to call him out when he was being a prat - which, he admitted to himself, happened more often than not - but she always forgave him for it moments later.

He took a moment to watch as she stared into the flames once more. His eyes roamed over her features, from her brilliant eyes, down the slope of her nose and rested on her mouth. Y/N could give any Ravenclaw a run for their money with the amount of wit she fired, and even though Sebastian was often on the receiving end, he loved it. He loved the way she rolled her eyes at him when she shot a particularly sarcastic or dry comment his way; he loved when she teased him and made him question his sanity and oh, he adored it when she would shoot him a rare, flirtatious comment.

He loved her.

The thought took his breath from him. He had said it out loud in the Great Hall earlier, but it was unintentional, and he wasn’t quite sure of it then, but now…now he was sure. He was in love with her. Every part. He wanted to share every day, every night, every moment with her.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied without thinking. He watched as a faint blush dusted Y/N’s cheeks and his heart stuttered in his chest. How could he ever doubt how he felt for her? “What did you smell in the Amortentia?” Sebastian asked, a sudden surge of confidence hitting him.

“Sebastian,” Y/N sighed heavily, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Y/N turned to look at him, a pleading look on her face. She was tired, so tired, at having to pretend she wasn’t irrevocably head over heels for the man next to her. She feared if he asked her any more questions he would see straight through her, and then their friendship would be ruined and he would want nothing more to do with her. No, the logical part of her brain replied, Sebastian is too nice for that. Instead he would let her down gently, with the soft tone one would reserve for an injured animal or a sick child.

“I could smell you,” he blurted out. Y/N blinked once, not quite sure she had heard him properly, before looking over at him slowly. “Your perfume, to be more specific. And the smell of rain, from the night we danced out in it. Also those strawberry tarts you love to eat at breakfast.” He stood from his seat before sinking to his feet so he could kneel in front of her on the stone floor. “All I could smell was you.”

“Sebastian…”

“What did you smell?” he asked her again, a hint of desperation in his eyes. She thought there was nothing more between them but friendship, that he could never look at her the way she wanted him t, but the look in his eyes right now…Merlin, how could she ever think that? Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked down at him and watched as his hands came to rest on her knees gently. She could feel the heat of his skin through the material of her trousers and all she could think of was more. She wanted more. “Darling? I’m putting my heart on the line here.”

“It was you,” she whispered after a moment, afraid to say it much louder. “You, when we danced in the rain. You, when you showed me the clearing full of wildflowers. Just…you. It was all you, Sebastian.” She met his gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s always been you, I just didn’t realise it until lately.”

“You’re supposed to be the smart one,” he teased lightly. He raised his hand to wipe away a stray tear, his thumb stroking her cheek gently. “Why are you crying?”

“I…” Y/N let out a sound that was between a sob and a chuckle and slid down so she was kneeling on the floor with Sebastian. “I think I was too scared to tell you before, so I pretended like it didn’t exist. These feelings have been bottled up for so long, only to be let out now…” she wiped away her own tears this time and offered him a rueful smile.

“Oh darling,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, “it seems we’ve both been a little slow, hm? How could you not see I’m hopelessly head over heels for you?” He rested his forehead on hers, watching with slight satisfaction as her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation and longing. “You have been, and always will be, my one and only.”

“You’re going to make me cry again,” Y/N protested weakly. Sebastian chuckled quietly and brushed a stray hair from her eyes. He watched as the wheels turned in her head, and knew she was deep in thought when she started to chew on her lower lip thoughtfully.

“Come back to me, what are you thinking?”

“It’s highly improper.”

“My favourite,” he smiled crookedly and ran his thumb across her lower lip. “Tell me.” Instead, after a brief moment of hesitation, Y/N closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his gently. She pulled away all too soon for Sebastian’s liking, her eyes darting across his face for any reaction he disapproved of - or worst, didn’t enjoy - their chaste kiss. He pulled her back in slowly, giving her more than enough time to pull away should she choose to do so, and pressed his lips back to her sweetly.

From the other end of the Common Room, Imelda watched quietly as the couple kissed each other with stomach-churning sweetness, and as she turned to leave she made a mental note to boast to Poppy first thing in the morning that she was right yet again.

#sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #hogwarts game #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy #awkwardauthormasterlist #awkwardauthorwrites #awkwardauthor

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novaursa · 4 months ago

Text

Legacy

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: dinner with a lion

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The heat of Harrenhal’s stone walls suffocates you as you sit, bound and chained, in a shadowed cell, distanced from the other prisoners. The silence presses down heavily, disturbed only by the occasional scurry of rats in the corners and the distant, echoing clamor of soldiers outside. They’ve kept you here as a prisoner of value, locked away from the common rabble. No one dared speak your name aloud, but you know what you are to them—a Targaryen, a relic of a world shattered and hunted by Robert’s Rebellion.

Your eyes trace the rough-hewn stones, your thoughts lost in Winterfell's cold embrace, where you’d been a ward, a stranger among wolves yet somehow belonging. Ned Stark's honor had felt like a shield back then, the North your sanctuary. That safety, of course, had long been stripped away. The warmth of winter fires, the laughter of his children, Arya’s giggling fits as she followed you through halls… You press those memories deep, lest they break you here in this hollowed-out fortress of despair.

The iron door creaks open. You don’t lift your head, knowing that if it’s a guard, his words will be as cold as his chainmail. Instead, you hear the soft scuff of small, light footsteps—a child’s, perhaps, or someone pretending to be one.

“Y/N?” The whisper is barely audible, like a breeze skimming across snow. You jerk your head up, blinking to adjust to the light spilling into the cell. A thin figure stands just outside the barred door, cloaked in rags, dark hair wild and tangled around a dirt-smeared face. The eyes, however, are unmistakable—storm-grey, fierce with a fire that the years hadn’t dimmed.

“Arya…” you breathe, hardly believing what you’re seeing.

She glances around quickly, as if expecting someone to appear out of the shadows, then steps closer to the bars, wrapping her hands around them. She is small, thin, but you can feel her strength through the steel.

“They’ve separated you from the others,” she says, her voice low but urgent. “Why?”

A bitter smile tugs at your lips. “They know what I am. Who I am.” You can’t help but reach through the bars, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. “But they don’t know you, it seems.” You pause, studying her. “Why are you dressed like…?”

Her face hardens, though her eyes still shimmer with the relief of seeing you. “I’m Ary. A boy.” She grins a little. “Keeps me safer that way. They don’t look too closely at boys.”

You nod, understanding. Clever girl. Brave girl. Your heart aches at the thought of her wandering through these deadly halls, relying only on wit and stealth. “You shouldn't be here, Arya.”

“Neither should you,” she retorts, voice fierce. “You think I’d just stay hidden, knowing they have you locked up like some...prize?” She gestures toward your chains. “You’re all they talk about.”

The words sting, though you knew what you were to them—what you’d always been in the eyes of those who held power. “Yes, well, they love parading relics of conquest.”

Arya scoffs, glancing down the hall as the clang of footsteps grows closer. She pulls back slightly, but her gaze holds yours. “I’m going to find a way to help you.”

Before you can respond, the guard rounds the corner, a hulking brute who grunts upon seeing Arya standing too close to the bars.

“Oi, boy!” he barks, jabbing a gloved finger toward her. “What’re you loitering around here for? Get along!”

Arya nods quickly, ducking her head. “Sorry, m’lord. Was just looking for scraps.”

The guard snorts, shoving her away with a meaty hand. “Scavenge elsewhere, rat.” His eyes slide back to you, cold and suspicious, before he turns and lumbers away down the hall.

You exhale slowly, your fingers trembling against the rough metal of your chains. In another life, Arya would have been free to roam Winterfell’s hills, a wild little shadow among wolves. And yet, she’s here, risking herself to reach you. As she slips away, she looks back just once, her expression determined, her eyes flashing with a promise.

The hours blur together after that. Servants and guards move past occasionally, sneaking glances but offering no words. No one knows what to do with you; even here, your Targaryen blood marks you as something foreign, an unpredictable fire they’d rather keep contained.

But then, as night falls and the cold sets in, Arya returns, slipping through the shadows. She brings a small hunk of bread and a waterskin, passing them through the bars.

“Eat,” she whispers, watching you with a fierce, protective glint. “You need to keep your strength.”

You take the food gratefully, feeling a spark of warmth. “Thank you,” you murmur, voice low. “How did you…?”

“I’m faster than most of these lumbering fools,” she says, a spark of pride in her tone. “I’ve learned things. I know how to make myself invisible.”

You chuckle softly, the sound echoing in the quiet cell. “You always did have a knack for hiding. Even in Winterfell, you could vanish like a shadow.”

Her face softens, a brief flicker of nostalgia crossing her expression. “Winterfell feels like a lifetime ago.”

“For both of us,” you reply, meeting her gaze, the weight of shared memories hanging heavy between you. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Arya. These people…they won’t think twice about harming you if they suspect anything.”

She nods, her expression fierce. “I’ll be fine. But I’ll come back. I’ll find a way to get you out.”

There’s a fire in her eyes, a determination that reminds you so painfully of her father. And as she slips away into the darkness, leaving you alone once more, you feel a renewed sense of hope—a fragile, flickering ember amidst the cold stone walls of Harrenhal.

The hours drag on, each one marked by the slow drip of water echoing in your cell, but eventually, the familiar rhythm of Harrenhal’s dungeons changes. You feel it before you see it—a shift in the air, the sound of hurried footsteps, the murmur of anxious voices reverberating through the stone walls. The guards move with unusual purpose, stiffening as they march past, casting wary glances at each other.

And then it clicks. A name floats through the muted conversations, spoken in low, reverent tones. Tywin Lannister.

Of course, he would come. Tywin would never leave something—or someone—of value to fate or neglect, and as a Targaryen in Lannister captivity, you are valuable. The realization sends a chill through you; you know what Tywin’s arrival means. After all, this was the man who orchestrated Robert’s Rebellion from the shadows, who ensured your family’s ruin.

Hours pass, leaving you with your thoughts, steeling yourself for the inevitable. It is nearly dusk when you hear his unmistakable footfalls—a measured, deliberate pace, the stride of a man who owns every room he steps into. The door to your cell opens, and there he stands, backlit by the torches in the hallway, his sharp gaze fixed upon you with that calculating intensity that has always defined him.

You rise slowly, the chains at your wrists clinking softly as you meet his gaze, refusing to bow or avert your eyes. He steps forward, and the guard closes the door behind him, leaving just the two of you in the silence of the cell.

"Y/N," he greets, his voice low and steady, as if he were greeting an old friend rather than a prisoner.

"Lord Tywin," you reply, keeping your tone neutral, though a simmering resentment lies beneath it. "I wondered how long it would take you to come see me."

He inclines his head, a barely perceptible acknowledgment. "I was surprised to learn you were here. I'd thought my orders were… clear."

"Well," you reply, voice laced with defiance, "your orders seem to have missed me by a few years and several hundred leagues."

A flicker of something passes over his expression—irritation, perhaps, or simply the mild inconvenience of something not going precisely to his plans. He regards you with that unyielding gaze, assessing, calculating. "You always did possess a certain… rebellious streak."

You lift your chin, meeting his gaze without hesitation. "It was a trait I shared with my family. At least, those who survived."

"Indeed," he says, with a faint curl of distaste. "And yet here you are, once again, a ward of sorts—though not of Winterfell this time." He studies you a moment longer before taking a step back, hands folded behind his back. "I did not expect you to involve yourself in… certain matters."

"I didn’t choose this," you reply, the bitterness plain in your voice. "Do you think I wanted to end up here, in the middle of this war, far from my family?"

Tywin raises an eyebrow. "Family? The very family that plunged the realm into chaos and left nothing but ashes and memories?"

You grit your teeth, the anger simmering within you. "My family fought for what was theirs. They believed in protecting their own."

"Their own." He almost laughs, the sound devoid of warmth. "A convenient justification." He takes a measured step toward you, his voice lowering. "But there are two choices now—obey, or find yourself utterly without power or purpose in this realm. It’s time to accept which path will ensure your survival."

The implication hangs heavy in the air, but you hold your ground. “And what path is that, exactly?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gestures toward the door with an almost casual wave of his hand. “You will be brought to me, Y/N. The other prisoners here… they are of no value, save for labor. They’ll be put to work.”

You look away, unable to hold his gaze, a knot of resentment building in your chest. You know what this means—that he intends to keep you close, in his grasp, as leverage, as something he can wield. Just another prize in his relentless pursuit of control.

“Then I suppose I don’t have much of a choice,” you say quietly, resigned.

“Choice?” Tywin’s lips twist into a thin smile. “Perhaps not. But survival? That, you do.”

He pauses, his gaze lingering on you, assessing you once more before turning toward the door. Just before he leaves, he speaks again, softer this time, though there’s no warmth in his tone. “There was a time I believed you would find your place at Winterfell. Let’s hope you find it here in Harrenhal, though I doubt it will be as kind.”

With that, he turns, his cloak sweeping behind him, and the door closes. You are left in silence, the chains at your wrists heavier than ever as you stare at the empty doorway, Tywin's words echoing in your mind.

They bring you through the winding stone corridors of Harrenhal, flanked by guards who grip their weapons as though you might suddenly decide to fight. You don’t look at them, choosing instead to lift your chin, steeling yourself for what awaits. Soon, you reach a heavy iron door and are led into the dimly lit council chamber, where Tywin Lannister sits at a rough-hewn table surrounded by maps and documents. His eyes flick up as you enter, cold and unblinking, assessing you as if you were a pawn on one of his battle maps.

"Sit," he commands, gesturing to the chair across from him.

You hesitate, a beat of defiance thrumming in your chest, but there’s little point in resisting now. With a quiet dignity, you take the seat, keeping your posture poised, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you appear weak.

For a moment, he says nothing, his piercing gaze steady as he studies you, hands clasped before him. The silence between you is thick, heavy with the weight of a past neither of you acknowledges directly.

"Have you thought of what your place here will be, Y/N?" His voice is measured, devoid of warmth. “It’s time you learn that your loyalty—whatever remains of it—has a purpose.”

“Is that what you’re hoping to extract from me?” you reply, tone cool, unwilling to betray any weakness. “Loyalty?”

Tywin’s mouth forms a thin line. “I had thought that was something you would recognize. I recall a time when I gave you something very few in Westeros would have considered—a chance. Yet, here you are.”

You raise an eyebrow, the bitterness you’ve tried to suppress bubbling to the surface. “If you’re expecting a thank you, Lord Tywin, for ‘saving my life’ and sending me North, you’ll be disappointed.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches, though his face remains otherwise impassive. “I expect no gratitude. Only an understanding of what is required.” His gaze sharpens, icy and relentless. “The time for grudges and sentiment is over. We are at war, Y/N, and there are no innocents in war.”

You bite back a retort, letting the words settle. Tywin had always been a strategist, a man who saw lives as currency in his endless schemes for power. To him, you were a valuable piece in this game, nothing more.

Before you can respond, there’s a shuffle at the door. A small figure enters, head down, dressed in rags that disguise her almost entirely. You freeze, a flicker of recognition sparking within you. Arya. She’s keeping her head low, her gaze on the floor, playing the part of a servant boy with remarkable precision.

Tywin barely acknowledges her, but you sense the tension rolling off him as he glances briefly at the child. “Good,” he mutters, gesturing for her to approach. “Pour us some wine.”

You catch her eye just for a split second, then force yourself to look away, masking any flicker of recognition that might betray her. Fear coils in your stomach, a sick dread gnawing at you. Arya is so close to him, close enough to be touched by the man whose armies are locked in a brutal struggle against her brother Robb.

She moves with surprising grace, her hands steady as she picks up a pitcher of wine and fills Tywin’s cup first, then yours. You can sense her nervousness—the slight tremor in her hands, the careful restraint in her movements. Every instinct screams for you to shield her, to pull her away from Tywin’s cold gaze, but you force yourself to remain still, trusting in her disguise.l

Tywin raises his goblet, studying you over the rim, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “You’ve come a long way from the girl I once sent North,” he says, taking a slow sip. “And yet, I wonder if you truly understand the stakes of the game you’re caught in.”

You meet his gaze head-on, a defiant spark igniting in your chest. “Perhaps it’s not the game I care about, Tywin. Perhaps I’ve come to understand that there’s more at stake than power.”

He sets down his goblet, fingers steepling before him, his expression hardening. “That’s where you are mistaken, Y/N. Power is the only thing that matters. It is the only reason you are here, alive, in this moment.” He gestures to the chamber around him, as though the walls themselves bear witness to his authority.

Beside you, Arya keeps her head down, silent as she completes her task, retreating a step as if hoping to melt into the shadows. Yet, despite her best efforts, your gaze drifts to her, a rush of protectiveness coursing through you, though you know it’s a risk. You want to shield her, to keep her far from Tywin’s attention, from his scrutiny. Her fate hangs by a thread, poised perilously close to discovery, and you cannot allow yourself to falter.

Tywin’s gaze sharpens as he notes your momentary glance toward Arya. He doesn’t ask, but there’s an unspoken question in the air as his eyes linger on you, piercing and calculating.

With Arya now lingering in the background, Tywin returns his attention fully to you, his tone softening just enough to sound almost conversational. “Tell me, Y/N, do you believe that loyalty alone will ensure victory? Or will it take more?”

He waits, and you know that beneath his words lies a deeper question—a challenge, a demand for allegiance that you cannot easily give.

You swallow, feeling the weight of Tywin’s question linger in the room like a shadow. He watches you closely, his gaze dissecting every breath, every shift of your expression.

“Loyalty alone doesn’t ensure anything,” you answer finally, your voice carefully neutral. “It’s a weapon, a means to an end, but hardly the end itself.”

He inclines his head slightly, as if acknowledging your answer. “Precisely. Loyalty is useful—necessary, even—but it is not enough to build a legacy.” His tone is cool, distant, almost as if lecturing a pupil. “Power is what matters, Y/N. Power builds kingdoms, reshapes worlds, burns down houses that have stood for centuries.”

The words are exactly what you expected from him: cold, ruthless, and unyielding. Yet, as he continues, there’s an intensity beneath them, a deeper thread of something that you can’t quite name.

“Legacy,” he says, his voice lowering to a murmur. “What we leave behind is all that remains when we are gone. Our names, our accomplishments… these are what endure. Without them, we are dust, forgotten.”

You meet his gaze, holding it with a defiance you can’t quite suppress. “I thought you cared little for anything but victory, Tywin. For all this talk of legacy, I hadn’t pegged you for someone who worried about what others would remember.”

A shadow of a smirk flits across his face. “Perhaps you misunderstand me. I care little for how others perceive me—but I care greatly for what they cannot ignore. For the things that endure, long after I’m gone. It is not enough for House Lannister to survive. It must be unassailable.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words, though a part of you bristles against his philosophy. He sees people as tools, pawns in his endless game. That’s all you are to him, a valuable piece he can wield to achieve his vision.

But then, he leans forward slightly, his eyes fixed on you with a sudden, burning intensity. “And that is why I’ve decided to take you as my wife.”

The words strike you like a blow, leaving you momentarily stunned, the breath stolen from your lungs. You blink, trying to process what he’s just said, wondering if you’ve misunderstood. But the certainty in his eyes tells you that he means every word.

“Your… wife?” The words come out in a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“Yes.” His tone is final, unyielding. “This union would serve both of us well. You would be restored to a place of power—protected, in the only way that matters.”

For a moment, you struggle for words, reeling from the unexpected declaration. You’d braced yourself for talk of alliances, of politics, even of Tywin’s usual calculated strategies—but this? This was something you hadn’t anticipated.

“Is that what you think I want?” you manage, forcing your voice to remain steady. “A position, a title, the protection of your name?”

He studies you, expression unchanging. “You may not realize it yet, Y/N, but your value is not solely in your bloodline. You are a weapon that could be sharpened, a tool with the potential to fortify both our legacies.”

Just then, a clatter erupts from the corner of the room as Arya accidentally knocks over a pitcher. The clay shatters, water spilling across the stone floor, jolting you back to reality. Arya’s face blanches, and she drops quickly to her knees, mumbling apologies as she gathers the broken pieces.

Tywin’s gaze flicks to her, his expression hardening. “Be more careful in the future, Ary,” he says, his tone sharp but controlled. “I don’t tolerate carelessness.”

“Yes, m’lord,” Arya replies, her voice low, strained, as she hurriedly cleans up the mess, hands moving with a practiced grace.

Your eyes dart to her for a heartbeat, concern flooding through you despite your best efforts to mask it. You don’t want to give her away, to betray her presence as anything other than a humble servant, but the fear lingers, sharp and gnawing. She’s too close to him, too vulnerable here under his scrutiny. Each moment she spends in this room feels like a risk, a danger you can’t control.

Tywin’s attention returns to you, his piercing gaze heavy with expectation. “As I was saying,” he continues smoothly, as if the interruption had barely registered, “this union would be… advantageous. For you, for me, for both of our houses.”

You take a steadying breath, suppressing the whirlwind of emotions roiling within you. “And what if I refuse?” you ask quietly, testing him, though you already suspect the answer.

Tywin’s expression hardens, his tone cold as steel. “I am not offering you a choice, Y/N. I am informing you of your future. It would be wise to accept it.”

A shiver runs through you, the weight of his words pressing down upon you. Arya continues cleaning in silence, her movements careful, but you feel the tension radiating from her. You force yourself to look away from her, to keep your focus on Tywin, unwilling to risk drawing his attention back to her.

Tywin’s eyes linger on you, cold and calculating, as he gestures to the guards stationed by the door. With a curt nod, he speaks in that same low, commanding tone, his gaze never wavering from yours.

“Escort Lady Y/N to her chambers,” he orders. “See to it that the servants prepare her properly.” He pauses, considering you for a moment, as if appraising your reaction. “She is to be made presentable.”

You feel the urge to rebel against his words, to refuse, to assert the independence he seems so intent on stripping from you. Yet, you know that any defiance here would only play into his hands. Tywin Lannister has you cornered, and he knows it. His intentions are clear—control, alliance, and power, as always. And now, he intends for you to become part of that legacy.

The guards approach, and as they move to escort you, you stand, casting a final glance at Arya. You want to say something, anything to reassure her, to let her know you will look out for her. But you cannot. Not here, not now. Her head remains down, eyes trained on the floor as she finishes cleaning the broken shards of the pitcher, and you feel a pang of fear for her, lodged deep in your chest. You force yourself to look away, to keep your expression neutral as the guards lead you from the room.

As you reach the doorway, Tywin’s voice calls out, halting you momentarily.

“Ary,” he says, turning his sharp gaze upon her, “go to the kitchens and tell them to prepare a dinner for two.”

Arya nods quickly, bowing her head as she mumbles a quick acknowledgment, then scurries out of the room, slipping past you without so much as a glance. You feel a twinge of relief at her quick escape, but the fear doesn’t ease fully as the guards guide you down the halls.

The walk to your chambers feels long and heavy, the walls of Harrenhal closing in around you, a sharp reminder of your captivity. As you near the chambers Tywin has commanded be made “presentable” for you, your mind races, grappling with the implications of his intentions. A marriage—his twisted idea of protection, of binding you to him, as if that could erase the past or reshape your allegiance.

The door to your chambers opens, and the servants immediately set to work, preparing clothes, linens, a bath—all of it designed to fulfill Tywin’s idea of what a “presentable” lady should be. You endure it silently, your mind still reeling from his words, the promise of a future that feels more like a cage.

And somewhere, perhaps in the very kitchens beneath you, Arya is carrying out his orders, a young wolf in disguise, dancing on the edge of discovery.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #asoiaf x reader #house of the dragon #got x reader #got x you #got x y/n #got tywin #tywin x reader #tywin lannister #tywin x you #tywin x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #house stark #legacy

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hitomisuzuya · 5 months ago

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Foul Legacy (Tartaglia) x fem!reader. Smut. Misuse of Hydro Vision/Hydro tentacles. Size kink. Breeding kink. Creampie. Two brief mentions of anal play.

I know this is different then what I normally write, but I wanted to get this out of my system. If Childe can make whole ass weapons from Hydro, then he can manifest tentacles 😤

It took you months, many months to convince Tartaglia to fuck you in his Foul Legacy form. He was pretty firm on the answer being no. When you asked him why, he said he might accidentally lose control, and break you in half. His size was also a factor.

Too bad for Tartaglia that his reasons send a jolt of curious arousal through you.

You even went as far as saying, "Just treat it like you would combat."

Tartaglia has a tried and true method that always works when you brought it this up. One that he thought worked well enough until now: fuck you until you were senseless and drooling, even babbling about how you wanted him to fuck a baby inside of you.

However, you started pouting your lower lip out when you asked in a way that made him weak. He finally relented, coming up a method that would help you prove you could take his size.

Never for one second did you think it would be anything like this.

A Hydro tentacle was secured around your wrists, dangling you in front of Tartaglia, now transformed into Foul Legacy. Two tentacles circled and teased around your nipples, with one more pumping in and out of your sopping pussy.

He has a unique form of sensation from the tentacles, all of it transferring straight to his cock. He could your walls clenching around the tentacle like his cock was inside you. You were defenseless dangling in front of Foul Legacy, forced to look at his thick, leaking cock getting harder the more he abused your hole as shameless moans spilled from your throat.

An embarrassed blush dusted your cheeks. "Aww, what's the look for? You weren't all shy proudly boasting you could take my cock like this," Tartaglia cooed, cocking another tentacle up to agonizingly circle your swollen clit before curling around to circle your other hole teasingly.

You jolted in the tentacles grasp, your moans becoming tinged with whimpers. He laughed at the your reaction. "I don't know why I didn't do this sooner," He is absolutely trembling. Not from exertion, but from euphoria.

The same euphoria he got when he felt blood lust in the heat of battle. You are his prey, and his prize for catching you would doing whatever he pleased. Groaning, he rutted into the hand stroking his cock as he watched you struggle to grind and squirm on the tentacle.

You opened your mouth in an attempt to form words, but what came out were moans that sounded twice as shameless trying to convey you were going to cum. Tartaglia somehow understood what you trying to say.

"Going to cum from a little foreplay?" He teased, prodding the tip of the tentacle around your other hole for a moment just to see you shake more. "How cute. You sure aren't disappointing me," The pace of the tentacle increased, and you could feel his predatory gaze cutting right to the bone behind his mask.

He was assaulting sensitive places on your body all at once, your body quaking from the slippery stimulation of the tentacles on your nipples sending extra jolts of pleasure to your clit. "You are practically drooling," A tentacle came up to poke at your lips.

Your tongue lewdly swept out to curl around the tentacle, your moans turning muffled as he pushed into your mouth. He could feel the greedy sucking of your mouth on the tentacle on his pulsing cock.

Tartaglia was enjoying the utter sadism of it all. Your pussy was stretching apart so well around the tentacle, your shaking little body struggling to keep up with the onslaught of pleasure snowballing all your senses. The tentacle was only about half the size of his massive cock.

You let out a muffled moan of protest as he took the tentacles off of your nipples, and out of your pussy and mouth. Leaving the tentacle wrapped around your wrists, he brought you to dangle over his cock. Your pussy in anticipation as you looked down at it.

His cock was bigger than you originally anticipated, and you more than felt that as he grinded his cockhead against your pussy. "We will see how long you last," He sounded utterly gleeful as his hands found your hips.

Your shivered as his talons pressed against your flesh as he lowered you onto his cock. Your body tensed in pain, your back arching as you felt every pulse and drag of his cock stretching you apart. It shocked you into momentary silence.

You felt a tentacle slither across your clit, immediately drawing moans from you again. He struggled to be as gentle as he could. At first. Your pussy just felt too good tightening and struggling to accommodate him. "So..so..big," You finally managed to moan your only coherent words since this all started.

Tartaglia growled in approval. Holding you in place, he bottomed out with a short, fluid stroke of his hips. Blood beaded underneath his claws as he brought down further on his cock, a near scream of pleasure tearing from you the pain suddenly shattered into euphoria.

When you didn't think you could stretch apart any more, you swiftly proven wrong as his cock bullied relentlessly into your sweet spot. You were fast falling apart as he practically rearranged your guts he was that deep.

Tartaglia guided you up and down on his cock, the Hydro tentacles curling up around your nipples again. You mewled in pleasure, your walls squeezing around his cock. He left the tentacle secured around your wrists so he could have both his hands fucking you onto his cock, he knew he was too big for you to ride it without his help.

"That's right, keep moaning just like while I fuck you full," Tartaglia groaned, hissing as he felt your walls tightening on the verge of being shoved over the edge. He increased his pace, eager you feel you shatter while you creamed on his cock.

This was the most intensely intimate experience of your life. Your body felt limp in grips of overwhelming pleasure, your eyes half lidded and hazy as you as your body jolted in pleasure. His cock kissing into your sweet spot as the tentacle assaulted your clit and nipples ultimately made you come apart.

"Fuck, you are cumming hard," Tartaglia moaned as your pussy spasmed on his cock. His claws skimmed soothingly as on your hips as you shook from your orgasm. The sensation made cum ribbon inside of you.

He grit his teeth, fucking you down onto his cock as he fierce need to breed you thoroughly consumed him. His cum was bound to come seeping out of you when he pulled out. He was determined to fuck as much of it inside of you as he could.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #tartaglia #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #childe #childe smut #childe x you #childe x reader #childe x y/n #foul legacy

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hazeyysworld · 5 months ago

Text

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

character: george weasley x f! reader

genre: soft fluff

summary: staying with george after his “holy” wound

warnings: brief mentions of blood and his wound

words: 887

.・。.・゜✭・.

During the Hogwarts war, Mad-eye Moody had given Fred, George, Bill, Fleur, Hermione and Ron polyjuice potions to disguise themselves as Harry Potter.

George had gone with Lupin and soon was hit accidentally by Snape's sectumsempra spell which cut his ear off.

George had come back, weak, and was laying on the sofa bleeding thoroughly when you had noticed the commotion from the kitchen..

You let out a gasp, “George..” You say softly, rushing in from the kitchen. You had stayed at the Burrow with Molly.

George slowly moves his head to look up at you, offering you a smile albeit an incredibly weak one.

“Oh Georgie..” You whisper out quietly, nearly down at his side as Molly runs her fingers through his hair.

“How- how are you feeling?” You ask, resting your hand on his arm.

It takes him a moment to reply, “..Saint like..I’m holy Y/n..I’m holy..you get it?” He says, pointing at the hole where his ear was.

“You- you are pathetic George Weasley..” You softly say with a small smile, leaning your head onto the couch.

George chuckles softly, wincing as Molly carefully starts to clean his wound up. He looks at you gently, his chest still rising and falling irregularly.

”Yeah, I just wanted to make you smile is all.” He says, watching you lean your head on the couch by him.

You smile at his words, he always found a way to warm you up no matter the situation, “Get some rest George..” You whisper out, leaning up to place a kiss to his forehead as you watch his eyes slowly flutter shut, sleep overcoming him.

George slowly nods before falling asleep within minutes. As you continue to watch him, Molly pats your shoulder.

”He’ll be fine, dear. I’m surprised that boy is still so cheeky, given the circumstances.” She says, giving you a smile.

“Yeah..” You whisper out, finally moving from your position as you feel everyone else start to move and shift a bout.

Some hours pass, you sit leaning against the couch, watching George’s chest rise and fall as he sleeps.

George slowly stirs a few hours later, a small groan falling from his lips as he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees being your face.

”Hey..” He mutters tiredly, a groggy smile on his lips.

“Hi..” You say, a tired yet genuine smile on your face, reaching for his hand to lace your fingers together with his.

George smiles a little as you gently intertwine your fingers with his, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

”How long have I been out for?” He asks quietly, his eyes still on yours.

“Just a few hours..” You say, eyes wandering from his to the bandages wrapped around his head, “How are you feeling?”

He groans softly, slowly sitting up into a more upright position, pulling your hand gently into his lap and gently tracing his fingers along the back of it.

”I feel like I’ve been hit full force in the head with a bludger. Apart from that, I’m good.” He teases lightly.

“Right..of course..” You say with a giggle, looking up at him with a smile.

George gently grins at the sound of your laughter, his eyes fixated on your face as he continues tracing his fingers along the back of your hand in his lap.

”You look beautiful, love.” He says quietly, tilting his head to the side slightly to look at you properly.

“Thank you George..” You whisper out, “You look quite…holy..” You say with a grin.

George laughs out softly, rolling his eyes playfully at your comment before gently poking your side with his free hand.

”Oh shush, you know you’d prefer me with both of my ears.”

“Oh..I’m not too sure about that Georgie..” You say with a smile, “The one ear thing is really starting to grow on me..”

“Oh yeah, you find it attractive, do you?” He asks, grinning at you as he leans closer to you and lowers his voice. His grin only grows wider as he notices your cheeks beginning to turn a light pink.

“Oh definitely..” You say with a giggle, eyes twinkling as you look at him.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Harry sits awake nearby, thinking about how in his fourth year George was too scared to ask you to the Yule Ball, so you asked him yourself.

He remembers the moment exactly, the way George’s face turned as red as his hair as you leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek.

He remembers the way Dean, Lee, and others had teased and made fun of the Weasley twin.

He remembers in his first year when George was too afraid to even speak to you when you would approach them, he would stutter and look away awkwardly- not knowing how to speak to a girl, let alone his crush.

Harry remembers the first time he saw you two in Hogsmeade, your fingers laced with George’s, a huge smile on his face as he looked down at you.

In Harry’s eyes you two were to get married, to survive the war and spend the rest of your time together.

In George’s eyes, you were the witch he wanted to stay with for the rest of your lives.

.・。.・゜✭・.

notes: yay! first fic in the books, hoping to put more out soon- sorry if it wasn’t too good! please send in any requests!

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btsbabe7 · 9 months ago

Text

Perfect Storm

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x reader

Warnings!: 18+, unprotected sex

Synopsis: While Ominis grapples with his feelings, you embrace your own in full bloom.

Ominis sits in a complete daze, exactly three rows from the front of The History of Magic. In a class where sleep is prioritized over education, he finds himself wide awake and engulfed by his own thoughts.

At a young age, Ominis Gaunt had learned the mastery of concealing his disdain, his happiness, and all other emotions in between that may apprehend him. It was a skill he found himself most proud of, especially as a Slytherin, simply because it kept him safe from the consequences of raw emotions and how others may perceive them. But on this particular afternoon, an hour after your coffee brown feathered owl, Nora had chirped seven times through his windowsill, Ominis felt something arise.

A feeling he had long forgotten had begun to muddle up and settle in the hollowness of his chest as it would after a sip of freshly brewed Butterbeer or morning pumpkin juice on an empty stomach. He’d only felt this way twice in his entire life. Once, when he’d learned he’d been invited to attend Hogwarts and would finally be able to escape the harsh scrutiny and peculiar upbringing of his pureblooded parents. Secondly, when he’d been introduced to Sebastian and Anne Sallow during his first year of attending. However, he would have never guessed that he’d feel this way about you, his now, not-so-new best friend that he can’t seem to stop thinking of. Though, there is one thing Ominis knows for certain, and that is that he must stop his heart from becoming too attached. Otherwise, the feeling would fester and utterly consume him.

When Professor Binns dismissed class, a herd of yawning students stumbled out in the connecting hallway of The Bell Tower in pure delight. As they do, you scan the crowd over, student by student, looking for only one in particular.

Amit Thakkar. Eric Northcott. Lenora Everleigh. Natsai Onai, who stops at your side with a sly smirk.

“Next time you decide to skip Binns’ class, I beg you have Nora deliver a notice beforehand. As much as I appreciate a midday nap, I do cherish adventure even more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you giggle, though you know Natsai wouldn’t have wanted to join in on the adventure that had pulled you away from class on this particular day.

The high of Sebastian’s presence that typically lingered long after the fact comes to a standstill at the thought of other’s putting the pieces together. Surely word would soon travel of you missing your History of Magic course and the coincidence of your best friend Sebastian missing his Astronomy one simultaneously. That thought alone is what steals your concentration from the leaving students and causes your mind to wander. A few seconds more and a small tap has you jolting as if you’ve seen a ghost for the first time.

“Ominis,” you breathe in relief.

“I could smell you,” he chuckles. “Well, you smell of Sebastian actually.”

“Oh, yeah… I, uh… We bumped into each other on the way to class and decided to ditch.”

Ominis is silent for a moment. He can always detect your hesitation when you lie, but it wasn’t a completely lie. You hope in your heart that he’ll buy it and not question any further, and in your favor, he chooses the latter.

“Nora stopped by before class,” he states. “She only chirped seven times. So you’re early, despite missing class.”

You rope your arm in Ominis’ and lead him downstairs and towards the doors which lead you out the castle.

“On my way over, I figured we could head to Hogsmeade early. We’re both done for the day and we don’t get much time alone without Seb. I tried to convince him to stay in tonight, but he was adamant about spending time with both of his best friends.”

Ominis hums in curiosity. Wondering what you’d bargained with Sebastian to get him to give you and him any time alone at all. Despite his curiosity, his own excitement wins the battle. He hadn’t had a moment alone with you since you’d met him, and with Sebastian out of the way, even for a short moment, he’d finally have you to himself.

“Do we have to go to The Three Broomsticks? If we aren’t due there until seven this evening, we can go elsewhere?”

You purse your lips as you both waltz through the doors and into the warm breeze of spring. The air smells of heavy rain. The type of rain that smells of earth and dew and brings the worms from their humble adobes in the soil.

“I suppose we could go wherever we please.”

Ominis smirks, but turns in the opposite direction in order to conceal it from you.

“Perhaps we could go to The Undercroft?”

You glance up towards the sky. Heavy, grey clouds settle in the distance, remnants of a storm while another dares to roll in at a moment’s notice. As much as you love a brilliant storm, you’d love to spend time alone with Ominis more. After all, many storms have hovered in the skies above the grounds of Hogwarts, but time alone with your Slytherin friend weren’t as frequent.

“The Undercroft,” you hum in agreement.

Careful to evade the nosiness of curious students and staff, you and Ominis slip into the concealment of The Undercroft with relieved sighs. You gaze over the darkened room, casting Confringo towards the four hanging lamp posts before continuing inside.

Abandoned furniture, rusting cauldrons, and dusty barrels are stacked high against the surrounding walls, making the room appear much smaller than it feels. The room itself smells of burnt embers, left behind from all the times you and the duo had practiced Confringo here on end. You smile at the memories before meeting Ominis in the center of the room enveloped between four hefty, ornate columns.

A rug sits there now, one you’d managed to buy over Christmas break and bring in from home with the help of an Extension Charm. The others hadn’t seen it yet since you’d just placed it today before meeting Sebastian in the secrecy of his empty dorm.

“Confringo truly warms up the room,” Ominis breathes sarcastically before settling down. His brows rise at the sudden change of surface and he allows his fingertips to mold themselves into the thick fibers of the woolen rug with a gentle breath. “A rug?”

“Don’t you and Seb get tired of sitting on frigid concrete?”

“I’ve known nothing else.”

You smile softly, happy that you’re allowing him to experience something new in his safe place.

With your own need to relax, you kick your shoes off and drop your robe before joining Ominis on the rug. He jolts up at the feeling of your knee pressing against his and tries to imagine your facial features in this moment, calm and soft.

“I wish we could enjoy the storm from here,” you whisper. “I’d love to hear the heaviness of the rain pitter pattering around us. The rumbling of thunder that comes with the rolling clouds.”

Ominis smiles. Taking in your words and imagining them in his head. The coolness of the rain prickling against your flesh and curls. What rolling clouds would look like when the thunder rumbles beneath your feet and lightning streaks through gray clouds. The way your lips curl into a grin and eyes close when you’re in a state of peace and tranquility only a storm can offer. You take your bottom lip in with a smile, laughing to yourself at the thought. It’s as if you and Ominis had shared the imagery telepathically.

“Y/n,” Ominis calls, though he has no words to say. After all, anything that would come out in this moment would come out as a stutter and surely you’d laugh in his face, even as his friend.

But you respond in the softest your voice has ever been around him, a simple yes, and he finds himself swooning. He falls silent, closes his eyes and takes in the smell of burning coals in the nearby lamps. It’s not the smell of wet earth, but it is familiar. As familiar as the fluttering in his stomach as he lies back in hopes to push them away, the butterflies. And much to his dismay, you replicate the action.

The smell of Sebastian has long worn away and your own smell of vanilla and worn book pages returns. The warmth of your body so close to his has him fighting to steady his breathing. He shuffles a bit in an attempt to create space, but ends up slapping his hand into yours instead. You smile at the feeling and allow your palm to clasp around his with a soft exhale.

A few moments of silence pass by and you drop Ominis’ hand to roll onto your side. With one hand propping up the side of your head, your eyes roam over your best friend. His robe is parted and his tie sits tightly around the ring of his crisp, white collar that’s nestled underneath his buttoned vest and open jacket. The hem of his button-up is still neatly tucked inside his belted, checkered grey trousers. His full length grey socks are pulled to the knee and stuffed inside his short boots. And when your eyes gaze up towards his face, a soft smile sits on his lips as if he’s deep inside a fantasy only he can see.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Ominis’ smile turns into a hoarse cough, almost a choke. You pat him gingerly on the chest until he heaves out one last cough and wipes away the tears.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Y-you didn’t,” he spats out. “I just didn’t know you were observing me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re the most interesting object in the room.”

His cheeks turn a cherry red and he gazes away nervously.

“I believe you to be more interesting,” he mutters.

You come up to your knees, allowing them to sink into the soft fibers of the rug.

“Prove it.”

You shock yourself and Ominis with that line, but it does the trick of pulling his reddened face back in your direction. Had this been Sebastian and you’d given him the chance, he wouldn’t have bat a lash before making a move, but Ominis has always been your greatest challenge. You know he won’t be the first to make the move even if the stone lies within his court. So, you find yourself climbing into his lap, straddling him as he attempts to find the words to say or expression to convey in response to your boldness.

“It’s alright,” you whisper.

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

Ominis’ trembling hands plant themselves against your jawline, thumbing over your soft cheeks, then the circumference of your lips. His mouth parts and your own need to feel him consumes you. You repeat the action of grasping his face and lean in closer until all that’s between you is a slither of air.

“Y/n,” Ominis speaks quickly. The call of your name propels his warmth against your lips. “This will change everything.”

“I know, Omi.”

He hesitates, then allows himself closer in consent. You settle down in his lap completely and draw your hands to the hairs at the nape of his neck, taking in the coarseness before your eyes flutter closed and your lips press gently into his.

Ominis’ body shutters underneath you as if he’s been set ablaze while yours kicks into overdrive. You help him slip off his robe and jacket, then mindlessly pluck the large, grey buttons from the holes of his vest. He shrugs out of it and clasps his arms around you, moaning as you both deepen the kiss and fall back on the rug. His hands travel over your waist, down your hips, then down your thighs on either side of him. He mentally takes in that you chose to wear a dress today, knowing he could use that to his advantage if you both chose to go any further.

You pull away breathlessly and in a daze, drinking Ominis’ relieved express in like cool water.

“Do you think we have time?” You ask aloud, not necessarily to him as you reach back to grab your pocket watch from the inner pocket of your own robe. Barely an hour before you’re set to meet Sebastian in Hogsmeade. It’s not nearly enough time, but with the pout on Ominis’ face, you can’t deny yourselves the pleasure. “We’ll be quick…”

Ominis chuckles at the shakiness of your voice before pulling your lips back to his. If he had to face an annoyed Sebastian because you both arrived late, he’d take that over missing this opportunity with you. And in agreement, you and Ominis strip down to your undergarments in no time. Once his hand brushes against your bare flesh, he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls you down against him.

“Have you done this before?”

He shakes his head.

“Have you?”

You fear being honest in a time like this, when you know he’s so vulnerable, but you also know Ominis would be able to read your lies easily. Besides, in a time like this where everything is sacred, lying seems cruel.

“Only once,” you reply shakily.

Ominis’ expression fades into something unreadable, then a smirk appears.

“Perhaps you can show me how it’s done then?”

You scoff nervously. It wasn’t the response you were expecting. In fact, you were thinking he’d nudge you off of himself and start to redress. That you’d end up wallowing in shame all night over Butterbeers at the embarrassment.

You waste no time grinding against him, getting a feel for his size as soft pleas slip from his lips. Your own lips gasp at the feeling of him growing hard beneath your warmth. A bit surprised by his size, you lift up just enough to work the hardened member from his briefs. With a purr, you rub down the length and move your own garments to the side. You grasp one of Ominis hands and position it between your legs, and you swear his eyes widen like the moon at the sensation.

“Touch me here for now,” you croon, already aching in anticipation of the pleasure you know he won’t deny you.

Ominis rubs down your length, taking in the number of folds it takes to get to the source of your warmth. He clamps his hand over the mound, then slips a single finger into your depths, which earns a moan from your throat. He seems to like it, the prize that comes from knowing he’s touching you correctly.

“Just like that, Omi,” you mewl seconds before he pulls his finger in and out of your arousal. You work your own hand over his full length with a coating of your own saliva. “Can’t wait to feel you inside my wet pussy.”

He stops short as if his brain hadn’t processed it beforehand. He could feel you even more, more than his finger. Skin to skin, body to body. Luckily, you can’t deny yourself the pleasure anymore, and knowing that time is ticking by, you climb back into his lap and take him back into your grasp before lining your entrance up with the tip of his erection. It only takes the feeling of the tip poking inside to pull a heavy groan from Ominis’ lips. It makes you smile, the sight of him already squirming as you slip down the rest of his length with a loud whimper.

“Fuck, Omi, your cock feels amazing.”

“Y/n,” he whines and grips your waist the moment you start gliding back and forth with the length of his cock stuffed inside. It almost slips out, then you skillfully retract it back in. He squirms every time it comes close to falling out, a pinch of panic at the idea of losing this feeling.

His eyes shut and his blunt nails burrow into your flesh as you find a steady pace and your palms rest against his sweaty chest. You knew Ominis would feel astronomical inside of you, but he never knew he’d quickly become addicted to the feeling of himself being buried deep inside your depths.

You toss your head back and move Ominis’ hands up to your chest. He massages your breasts softly and unskillfully, scared of squeezing too hard in fear of hurting you.

“Lick them? Please?” You squeak and falter towards him. “Suck them.”

He feels for one of your protruding nipples and laps his warm tongue over the left, which causes the right to ache painfully in neglect. You massage into it yourself while trying to keep your pace. He pulls the left between his teeth and sucks on it hard, causing you to squeal before he moves to the right. You ride him faster, too overtaken by your own pleasure to notice him trembling beneath you. His own pants intertwine with yours and his hands find your hips again, this time guiding you up and down his twitching length.

“Y/n, I think I—“ Ominis’ words get caught in a groan so deep, your eyes flutter open.

“Oh, Omi… I’m going t— Nngh!”

He thrusts his hips upwards and your words fade into a sharp scream that leaves you shaking and trembling against him. Your eyes roll back and he pulls out of you with tremors of his own. You feel a warm liquid spurting against your ass and you sigh in relief before collapsing on top of him. His chest heaves violently against yours. His, then yours until they fall back into a rhythmic pattern of normalcy.

Silence falls over the room once again and you trace lines down Ominis’ abdomen mindlessly. Yet, in his mind, he’s attempting to come to terms with the act you two just committed. He’s sure this will change absolutely everything.

Will he start bantering with Sebastian when he mindlessly flirts with you?

Will he slip up and curse one of the other students who brag about how hot the hero of Hogwarts is?

He would now know just how hot you can get after finally having you this way. Would that knowledge alone push him over the edge?

On the outside, he remains calm, but you sense that his mind is elsewhere. You trail a fingertip from the center of his forehead and down the bridge of his nose before leaning over him.

“What’s plaguing your mind, Ominis?”

He’s hesitant, but thinks better of. If he’s had you like this, in his most vulnerable state of nudity, then surely he can admit his feelings.

“I’m worried about the others… Sebastian…”

“What about them?”

“What they’ll think or say. About the lewd comments I overhear in class. And if we continue to do this, they’ll begin to notice we’re becoming more than friends.”

You ponder it over for a moment, but surely being perceived as more than friends wouldn’t be so preposterous.

“There are worst things out there, Ominis Gaunt, than our peers perceiving us as more than friends. Perhaps you wouldn’t be too worried if instead of being friends, w—”

“Instead of being friends?” Ominis sputters in confusion and panic.

You pat his chest gingerly.

“Yes, Omi. Instead of being friends, you consider being my boyfriend instead? And when they inquire, we’ll simply tell them we’re courting each other.”

His face turns as pale as Professor Binns’, a true ghost, and he sits straight up as if to prevent a choking fit again.

“You want to court me? You truly fancy me?”

“Of course. I thought that much was evident. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have spent the entire afternoon attempting to get Sebastian’s blessing of giving us time alone. And I surely wouldn’t be plastered against your body fully naked,” you snort.

Color fades back into his cheeks, but he remains flustered. That’s the reason you smelled of Sebastian, you’d been in his dorm all afternoon, and knowing Sebastian, convincing him would’ve taken a while. And now it made perfect sense that he’d granted you the time alone and hadn’t once wondered into The Undercroft with all the time that’s passed. It’s as if everything has finally clicked in his mind.

Ominis recognizes something else too, the feeling that had settled in his chest earlier in the day. It’s the very feeling he felt once he was granted freedom from the abuse of his parents, the feeling he felt when he’d met Sebastian and Anne, the feeling you grant him now and always have, is hope. A hope for something new and better in the midst of his own chaotic storms. And with that realization, Ominis caresses your cheek and presses his lips ever so slightly into yours.

And after a few deep kisses, he pulls back, leaving a sliver between you two to flash a brilliant smile before finally answering your burning question.

“Of course I’ll be yours. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ For You Always (m.) - Severus Snape x reader

⚡︎ HP: November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

May 2024

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spaceyaceface · 2 years ago

Text

You Were The First

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Ominis Gaunt has never known affection. He has never known how it felt to love---to be loved. She came and changed all of it.

Or, Ominis gets love because by god does he deserve it.

Warnings: Mentions/Implications of child abuse

God, I loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request, anon!

When Ominis Gaunt fell in love, he fell slowly.

It was all the little things she did—the little things that made up who she was. Her kindness. Her patience. Her touch.

Before meeting her, touch meant nothing but pain. It was kicking and screaming as his mother dragged him along by his arm, harsh shoves from uncaring hands toppling to the ground, a cruel hand curled over his own, taking any control he might have and forcing a curse out of him.

He’d been avoiding it ever since. Even Sebastian and Anne knew his aversion, careful not to grab him or brush against him.

But somehow, she made his walls come tumbling down.

Perhaps he started to fall that first time she saved him a seat at breakfast.

It was one of the first breakfasts of their sixth year—the Great Hall was bustling, students running back and forth to catch up with friends and share adventures from over the summer. That was exactly what Sebastian was doing; he could hear his friend’s loud laugh as he spoke to someone at the Hufflepuff table. He’d expected her to be doing the same, her popularity as the Hero of Hogwarts was unmatched. Surely everyone would want to know what she’d been up to.

He’d just settled on the idea of grabbing an apple off the table and leaning against the wall well out of harm’s way when a voice called out to him. Her voice.

“Ominis! Ominis, right here, I’ve saved a seat for you!”

His mouth fell open—just slightly. “You… you saved a seat…?”

“Yes, now get over here before Sebastian barrels past and steals it, I wouldn’t put it past him,” she said, smile obvious in her voice.

And so he obliged.

He settled down on the bench, all thoughts of retreating to some far corner vanishing as she began to rattle on about her summer. In turn, he answered all her questions about his own time, best he could with the way his head was spinning. Of everyone in the school, she had saved a spot for him. She allowed him to take all her time, steal away every morsel of her attention. There was a lightness that came with that thought. A warm feeling he couldn’t quite name—not yet.

But now that he’d felt it, he knew he’d starve for it.

The next step into his descent was the first time she placed her hand on his arm.

Herbology was always a bit chaotic—not nearly as much as Potions, no thanks to a certain Gryffindor—but chaotic nonetheless. Professor Garlick had laid out all the necessary tools and supplies on each table, and after her brief explanation on how to prune and shape the plants in front of them, she set them loose.

Sebastian stood to Ominis’s right, grabbing some small cutters and starting on his plant quickly.

“Sebastian, you’re making a mess of it already. She said to start from the top and go down, didn’t you hear a word she just said?” a voice said from his left.

Ominis chuckled. “Since when has Sebastian ever been one to listen to anything?” He reached forward, grabbing his own cutters. He heard his friend grumble under his breath. “Don’t pout, you know I’m right.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not offended by it,” Sebastian said.

“You’re offended by everything, Seb,” she said.

“What is this? Attack Sebastian Sallow Day?”

“No, but I’d be an avid celebrator if there was such a thing.”

As Sebastian continued mumbling complaints, he felt it—her hand, just barely resting on his arm. “Sorry,” she said softly, leaning forward and across the table. “I’m just grabbing the fertilizer.” And then her touch was gone.

It was nothing. Just a simple indication that she was there, making sure a blind man didn’t accidentally stab her with a sharp object. And yet it felt… different, somehow. His skin was tingling as he tried to resume his work with the plant. It was only later he realized that, unlike so many times others had made a similar motion, he hadn’t flinched or pulled away.

In spite of himself, he sort of wished she would do it again.

He came to a realization the first time she explained a Quidditch match to him.

The realization was thus—she was even more kind than anyone he’d ever met. It was her very first match, and she had been elated to attend after Professor Black had announced the continuation of the sport at the beginning of the year. Normally, Ominis wouldn’t care too much about it. He rarely went to matches in previous years, only being dragged along by Sebastian when Slytherin was up in the running to take the cup. Crowds weren’t his thing. And trying to understand anything that was going on based solely off the oohing and ahhing of a crowd gave him a headache. But this year, Sebastian was making his debut as Slytherin’s Keeper, and that paired with her excitement to see the match was enough to draw him out to the stands.

They sat next to each other, nestled into the crowd of Slytherins eagerly anticipating the game. He could only imagine how high up they were—there had been plenty of stairs to indicate it was nothing insignificant. The breeze that high up was cooler, and Ominis was grateful for it, allowing himself to focus on it instead of the people pressing in all around him.

But when the match started, his focus shifted entirely to the soft voice next to him.

In the past, he had always found the commentary on the match entirely unhelpful, and even more uninteresting. He could never get a picture of what was going on—the announcer would always press opinions on players and use the names of the different plays, which was ridiculous because Ominis had no clue what any of the plays meant.

She, on the other hand, explained it all wonderfully.

She wasn’t perfect—not even close, stumbling over words and gasping at times when an action surprised her. But for the first time, Ominis could follow. He found himself cheering, breath catching as he heard the whoosh of a broom overhead. The tone and expression in her voice was so lively, so dedicated, he wanted to take part in it.

“Weasley’s flying fast toward the goals,” she commented. “Blimey, he should be Seeker with that speed. Imelda’s flown into his path, he’s going to crash—No, he dodged her, straight over her head—he’s throwing the Quaffle, come on Seb—YES!”

He let out a cry of celebration as his friend beside him whooped and hollered, cheering loudly for Sebastian. It wasn’t long until they won the match, and the crowd of Slytherins roared like a raging sea. He followed her out of the stands and into the common room, where a party was already commencing. Sebastian managed to break away from his adoring fans. The Hero of Hogwarts leapt up and nearly pushed him over in a wild embrace. Sebastian laughed.

“You were wonderful out there!” she said, pulling away.

Ominis could hear the grin in his friend’s voice. “I couldn’t let your first match be a disappointment, now could I?” His feet shifted, turning to Ominis. “And really, Ominis, thank you for coming. I know Quidditch isn’t your favorite.”

“If I’m honest, I rather enjoyed myself,” he said. He nodded his head toward her beside him. “This one has a knack for explaining the game. She told me enough that I can sincerely say, well played.”

“Then seems like you’ll have to go to all of the matches together,” Sebastian said.

Ominis frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to impose on—”

“No, I like that idea,” she said. His heart beat a bit faster. “I want you to be able to enjoy it just as much as the rest of us, Ominis.”

He couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night. When Sebastian asked about it, he blamed it on having too much Butterbeer.

When he let her lead him by his arm that very first time, he knew he trusted her.

He’d known for a while—but now, through his actions, he had admitted it to her. To himself.

Winter had set in. The two of them left the Three Broomsticks, bundled up and ready for the cold. He reached for his wand, pausing when he heard her speak up beside him.

“Your hand is going to freeze holding it out like that all the way to the castle. I can lead you, if you’d like.”

He pondered it for a moment—only a moment—and then he gave in.

“If you think it’ll keep me from getting frostbite.”

He sucked in a breath as her arm looped around his. How had she done it so gently? After a second, when he’d begun to breathe properly, he nodded. “Off we go, then.”

It was strange, how he had surrendered so easily. When he had first gotten his wand, the world finally felt livable. He no longer had to shuffle around, arms outstretched, waiting for his brothers to jump out at him. He could fend for himself. Prove his independence. There was no longer a need to rely on anyone.

Why did he rely so effortlessly on her?

The truth came to him with a sudden thought as she took him through the streets, navigating expertly through the throng of students returning to the castle. He trusted her. She had always looked out for him. Cared when he felt no one else did. She made efforts to be around him, to involve him, even when he tried to push away. Ominis Gaunt did not trust easily. But she had proved herself worthy of that sentiment in every turn.

The slight tug of her arm in his jolted him back to that moment. “We’re at the stairs,” she said quietly. “There’s six of them.”

He’d trust her with his life.

They seemed to walk closer and closer together as the castle drew nearer. It was the cold, he told himself. Just the instinctual craving for warmth drawing their sides together. Simple as that.

But they still walked arm in arm through the halls of Hogwarts, leaving the excuse of the chill and snow far behind them.

The first time she held his hand, he finally felt alive.

Their sixth years had come to a close and the Hogwarts Express was waiting to take them home. They’d spend the last few months in what he considered bliss. They stopped looking for excuses to take each other's arms at some point—just letting it happen. Strolls on the castle ground. Between classes. Anywhere and everywhere they went together. Sebastian teased them a bit at the action, but Ominis claimed it was just easier than using his wand. He didn’t have to concentrate on a spell while walking about. It was true—but really, it hadn’t been inconvenient the five years before that, had it?

But now his dear friend gave a low sigh beside him. “This crowd is awful,” she said, glowering at the students around them. “I don’t know how we’re going to make it on the train in time.”

“I’m sure we’ll be—”

He stopped mid sentence, feeling her fingers interlock with his.

“I think I see a path, come on now.”

She nearly tipped him over as she pulled him along. He managed to remember how to walk just in time to catch himself, allowing her to lead him through the hustle and bustle around them. How did this feel so entirely different than being led by her arm? How could he only focus on how soft the skin of her knuckles felt under his thumb? How could he feel like he was dreaming, but never felt more aware in the same moment?

They stopped in front of the train, doors open before them. She didn’t let go. Neither did he. But the train let out a whistle, and the sound brought him back in an instant. Their hands dropped, and the loss of the intimate feeling of her fingers between his knocked the air out him like the perfect Depulso.

“We made it,” she said softly.

“Barely.”

She laughed. He might as well have been a fish for how much he was struggling to breathe. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, voice softening.

“I wish I could say the same,” he said, smirking. He felt her hit his arm, stifling a laugh.

“You’re awful.”

“You’re the one who laughed.”

“Goodbye, Ominis,” she said, still chuckling. After a moment, she spoke again, a little quieter. “I’ll write you.”

His stomach flipped. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Then she was gone, taking part of him with her.

He knew he was in love the moment he got her first letter.

What was it some fool had once said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? What a load of dung.

Absence made the heart ache so much it nearly killed him. And it had only been a day.

He knew it was from her the moment the lingering scent of her perfume hit him. He smiled. She kept her word—he had never doubted she would. He was just relieved she had done so so soon.

Quickly, he pulled out his wand and transfigured the words on the parchment, running his fingers over them. He paused where she had written his name. Every letter filled him with warmth as he poured over the short letter.

Dear Ominis,

I realize we only saw each other yesterday, but I wanted to assure you it wasn’t an empty promise when I said I would write you.

I really don’t have too much to share—my mother was more than pleased to see me, of course. Wailed when I came home as if I’d come back from the dead. She’s still not used to me being away for so long. I’ve just begun unpacking, and honestly, it just makes me wish I was back at Hogwarts with you and Sebastian.

How are you? I do hope you’re alright. I worry about you going home, you know. I can’t help it. I’ll be inviting both you and Sebastian to my home as soon as I’m settled in—please do survive until then.

Yours,

He closed his eyes as he felt her name beneath his fingertips. She was worried about him. She’d be inviting him. The warmth and elation he felt was so unlike the cold halls that surrounded him. He could survive—he’d do it for her.

How she could make him feel happiness—hope—in a house so tainted with pain was beyond him. He never would he have thought he could have a moment of something good there, a memory worth keeping after he abandoned the place.

Finally, he had a name for that warmth, the one that overtook him every time she crossed his thoughts. Love. Deep, profound, and lasting. It was more than he could have imagined, overwhelming and pure. How could he have lived to this point without it?

He read the letter once more before pulling out his quill and beginning to write.

The first time he thought she might feel the same coincided with the first time she laid her head on his shoulder.

She had kept yet another of her promises. It was only a couple of weeks before he was off to her house, finally free from the suffocating marble halls of the manor. His escape lasted only for ten days, but it gave him what he needed to keep going.

Though being with her was definitely what fueled him the most.

Laughing with her and Sebastian made the stress of being around his parents melt off of him much faster than he would have imagined. Their ten days had been full of exploring the woods around her house, of playing Gobstones, of laying in fields and telling old stories.

Ten days of her hand brushing his as they sat together. Ten days of catching his breath when she spoke. Ten days of falling harder than he ever thought possible.

Because now that he knew what it was he was feeling, it was there in everything she did. He was drowning in it, and he’d stay under with a smile on his face.

Sebastian bid them farewell on that final evening. Ominis would be gone back home in the morning—he tried desperately to push that thought away, focusing instead on spending every moment with her he could. They’d wandered to the overgrown park not far from her home, coming to rest on a bench hidden away in the trees. Crickets sang around them, and Ominis basked in the cool summer night by her side.

“Are you going to be ok when you go back?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

He gave a small smile, one he hoped was reassuring. “I’ve lived this long. Two more months will be nothing.”

She sighed. “It won’t be a full two months. I’ll make sure of it. If you can’t come here again, we’ll go to Sebastian’s.”

“You worry about me too much.”

“I think I worry just enough,” she stated simply.

Her words made his chest time. How could he ever begin to explain what they meant to him? She cared for him. It was enough to shatter him if he let it. He couldn’t say what he wanted to—not yet. He’d find a way, someday. But he told her what he could by reaching for her hand, locking their fingers together. And when she leaned into his side, head coming to rest on his shoulder, maybe, maybe, that was her way of saying she understood.

His stiff body slowly relaxed against hers, and he thought about nothing but the slow draws of her breath, the way her hair tickled against his jaw, the love he felt for the angel of the girl sitting pressed against him.

The first time she held him he fell apart.

Their little trio had stayed up late in celebration of their last school year, playing Exploding Snap well into the night. The Undercroft echoed their joyous sounds as the hours passed by, until Sebastian pulled himself away, saying he wanted to pay a visit to the Restricted Section for old time’s sake. It wasn’t long until she and Ominis were saying their goodnights to each other.

It had been a perfect last first day, exactly what he’d needed after spending so much time at the manor. He’d left for what he was determined to be the last time. There was no better way to celebrate.

He could think of no better way of ending it than saying goodnight to the girl he loved.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, a small smile on his lips.

“God, I missed you,” she breathed. “Goodnight, Ominis.”

But before he could open the door, her arms wrapped around his chest.

The result was immediate. His heart raced, and his throat grew tight. He couldn’t breath—how could he, with her holding him so tightly? Her head was against his chest, and for a split second he was afraid she might pull away when she heard the pound of it. It was that moment of fear that brought his arms around her, holding her to him like he had nothing left.

It felt like dying when she pulled away from him. She sucked in a breath. “Ominis, are you alright?”

“What… what do you—”

“You’re crying.”

She was right. He felt the tears, now, traitorously running down his face. He quickly brought up the sleeve of his robe to wipe them away.

“Is it something I did? I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He took a shuddering breath. “I just… You’re the first person who’s ever…”

Ever what? There were a million ways he could finish that sentence, and all would be true. The first who had ever held me. The first who has ever cared so deeply. The first to touch him with nothing but kindness. She was the first person to break down his walls, to give him life, to let him love and be loved.

Somehow, she seemed to understand his silence. She took him into her arms once more, and he let himself come crashing down. Sobs worked their way through—both sadness and joy mingled together in an utter mess of emotion. How could he have gone his whole life without this? Without feeling safe, without outstretched arms to run to? But he had found it. A person he could call his home, who would hold him when he fell apart. He was grateful. So grateful.

They never went back up to their dorms that night.

He was determined today would be the first time he kissed her.

Since that night in the Undercroft, every touch between them felt natural. Part of their beings. He came to her effortlessly, letting his arms pull her to him. His hand felt foreign when it wasn’t in hers. But yet, he had yet to confess the depths of his feelings for her.

He knew exactly why—she was patient. They’d started this whole thing nearly two years ago now. She’d always gone at his pace, waiting for him to be ready for each new step. They didn’t need to say the words. It was obvious to both of them. But Merlin, he wanted to.

She needed to know just how much she meant to him. The joy she brought into his life without even trying. It had been a long time coming, but now, he was ready.

He’d taken her out to Hogsmeade. It was the perfect spring day—cool breeze carrying the scent of Butterbeer clear out of the Three Broomsticks. The sun was just beginning to set, and they were on course to return to the castle when he stopped her.

“Could I take you somewhere?” he said softly.

“Of course,” she said, a little perplexed. He smiled, taking out his wand to guide the both of them, other hand still in hers. He led them down a path, then turned sharply into the woods. The trail he followed was light barely there, mostly grown over by foliage. But he heard the sound of the creek and knew he was close.

The trees gave way into a small opening, the melody of water trickling just beyond it. He smiled.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“Good. I hoped it would be.” His wand returned to his pocket, and he took both her hands, facing her.

It was her turn for her breath to catch. It was only fair after all the times he’d done so because of her. Did he look as lovesick as he felt?

“You are everything to me, do you know that?” he said softly. His hand reached up, following the curve of her neck up to her jaw, where it came to rest. “Everything.”

“Ominis…”

The way she breathed his name sent shivers through him. And her breath on his lips—Merlin, how had he waited so long?

“I love you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond—he’d let her say it soon enough. But he needed to prove himself to her, show her just what he meant when he said everything. His lips came crashing down against hers, and at that moment he decided every second not spent kissing her was a second wasted. Like everything about her, she was gentle. She was warm. She was soft. Like everything about her, he couldn’t get enough. He thought he’d give her a chaste kiss, but he was only a man, and a starving one at that.

He only pulled away when his lungs felt like they would burst, and his chest heaved under her resting hand.

“I love you,” she said, voice hoarse. “God, I love you.”

He decided that night would be the second time he kissed her, too.

After that he lost count.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #ominis x y/n #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt imagine

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bumblesimagines · 1 year ago

Note

“ i know we agreed on keeping things casual, but... “

“ it's just... ever since me and [my partner] broke up... i haven't really had much look with the whole... dating thing. “

josie

“ i know we agreed on keeping things casual, but... “

“ it's just... ever since me and [my partner] broke up... i haven't really had much look with the whole... dating thing. “

pronouns: they/them, gender neutral

trying to finish these guys off before I wrap up Midnight Beach and continue Our Flickering Light

Turning away from the homework sheet at the sound of knocking, you glanced at your dormmate's empty bed and hummed. You stood up and felt a grin spread across your face as you approached the door. For one of the top students at school, they sure were forgetful. You swung the door open and opened your mouth to greet Riley, but instead found yourself staring at Josie Saltzman.

"I-I hope it's not a bad time. I know Riley just left but if you're busy, I can come back another time." A smile replaced the grin and you chuckled at the flushing brunette, turning sideways and nodding toward the inside of your room. She perked up, cheeks still lit ablaze despite weeks having passed since the 'agreement' had been made, and she entered your dorm before her beloved twin could spot her.

"You usually don't visit this early in the day, Jo." You pointed out and took a seat on the bed, tilting your head curiously at her fidgety movements. "Did you need something?"

"I... I wanted to talk about us. About what's going on between... us." Josie spoke shyly, her fingers toying with the hem of her skirt and eyes flickering in every direction but yours. Your brows furrowed. "I know we agreed on keeping things casual, but... I feel like after all this time... maybe it'd be good to give us a proper chance. I- I think we'd be good together."

"I mean, Jo... there's a reason I wanted to keep things casual. It's just... ever since me and Hope broke up... I haven't really had much luck with the whole... dating thing. There's a lot of unresolved shit between us and you know how Hope can be. She'll say she's fine with it when she actually won't be and it'll become this whole thing... and I don't want to be the reason you two have a falling out again." You explained, wincing at the dejected look that passed over her face. Josie pressed her lips together and weakly nodded.

"So, that's a no?"

"For now. If you're willing to wait, it could become a maybe or even a yes."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #legacies #legacies x reader #legacies x y/n #legacies x male reader #legacies x female reader #legacies x gender neutral reader #josie saltzman #josie saltzman x reader #josie saltzman x female reader #josie saltzman x male reader #josie saltzman x gender neutral reader #josie saltzman x you #josie saltzman x y/n

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thecharacterchronicler · 7 months ago

Text

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;

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slutforcleo · 5 months ago

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givin matty a handjob …

“fuck.” he mumbles under his breath, attempting to hide the fact that he was quite literally falling apart. You couldn’t help the smile that came onto your lips, subtly speeding up your pace. “like this?” You ask gently, causing him to nod immediately. “yeah yeah yeah.”

taking your other hand, you gently play with his balls, tugging them gently. He’d groan, his eyes closed as he tried to hold back his orgasm. “y’look so pretty like this, Matty.” you whisper. Causing the boy to whimper. “Shit.” He stumbles. “I’m gonna cum.” He murmurs, making you grin, giving his balls a gentle squeeze.

he groans softly, bucking his hips up into your hand. he couldn’t bite back the multiple pathetic sounds that left his mouth as he came. hard. making a mess on his stomach and part of the sheets. And there you sat, a silly little smile on you face as you watch mattheo gather himself once more.

need that.

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deadghosy · 6 months ago

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OMINIS & SEBASTIAN WITH A BLIND! READER HEADCANNONS

A/N: can be seen as platonic or romantic

If you aren’t as skilled like Ominis, you best hope you had a blind cane. And that cane was Sebastian. Or you did actually have a blind cane.

Ominis could try to teach you if you want. He wishes you could see the same way he can. He will be very happy to teach you dear

You three holding hands. It’s just funny because Ominis can see for himself while you can’t really so Sebastian suggested this

If someone dared to take away your walking cane. Sebastian is literally going feral as Ominis just holds your hand while Sebastian handles the situation “well”

Sebastian or Ominis reading to you during study hall

Ominis tries to help you use your wand to navigate in the dorms as Sebastian just watched from the beds

Let’s say you accidentally fell down the stairs. Well lets just say the boys got so over protective that Sebastian suggested to piggy back you for the rest of the year

It was absolutely embarrassing and Ominis didn’t say a damn thing

Sebastian probably gets a hufflepuff to make you guys bracelets to show how powerful your friendship is. “Friendship is magic!” havin ahh 😭

When you guys cuddle, you are in the middle just being wrapped around by the boys arms

Two golden retrievers + one black cat. And you already know who is who 🫶🏾

Sometimes Sebastian is the best to the two of you. Like he is always giving good descriptions on what is happening. He likes seeing you smile at your own imagination. So he describes your smile towards Ominis who also smiles at the thought of you smiling.

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 months ago

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Under The Old Oak Tree - Clark Kent X GN Reader

Title: Under The Old Oak Tree

Clark Kent X GN Reader

(Can be seen as any iteration of Clark Kent/Superman.)

Additional Characters: Clark's parents (Mentioned)

WC: 3,560

Warnings: Can been seen as any iteration of Clark Kent/Superman (just got inspired by the teaser trailer for the new Superman movie), italics, teasing, banter, flirting, mentions of his Superman duties, nervous Clark, brief mention of marriage, confessions, crying (good), very mini angst, and fluff

“Can I open my eyes now?” You asked through a chuckle, your voice lilting with playful impatience. The soft fabric of Clark’s red bandana rested over your eyes, leaving you completely blind to the world around you; however, you could hear the changing of terrain, the other cars on the road, and so on, so that was nice.

The blindfold was his idea, of course - despite being your loving, compassionate, kind, and handsome boyfriend of three years, he didn’t seem to trust you when you said that you would keep your eyes shut the entire ride. He knew that the temptation of opening your eyes would be too much, so blindfold it was.

“Not yet,” Clark replied, his deep, steady voice was laced with a hint of nervousness; that you somehow didn’t pick up - you usually were pretty good at picking up on his emotions but it seemed that the excitement and anticipation were clouding your usual sharp instincts. His fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel, a rhythm that matched the quiet hum of the song playing on the radio. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

“Where is ‘there’ exactly?” You teased, tilting your head in his direction even though you couldn’t see him.

Clark let out a soft laugh, and you could picture the way his lips curled into that warm grin of his. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth bubbling in your chest. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.”

The sound of gravel then slipped away, replaced with what you thought was grass. The truck shifted and rocked gently as it moved. You tried to piece it together but it was no use. And it didn’t matter anyway, in a matter of seconds, you would find out.

The truck came to a stop, and so did your heart for a brief moment. There was a rustling as Clark turned off the engine and unbuckled from his seat. You then felt his presence as he moved over the center console slightly, his movements slow. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine before his lips brushed softly against your skin in a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Clark…” You breathed, your heart sputtering as you turned your head; your hands itching to take off the blindfold.

“Are you ready?” He murmured, his voice low and impossibly gentle.

A smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, “I’ve been ready since you blindfolded me.” You felt his fingers move to the back of your head, his touch careful and precise as to not accidentally tug at your hair as he untied the bandana. The fabric slipped away, and the light began to filter in, soft and golden. You blinked rapidly, your eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, and when your vision cleared, your breath caught in your throat. “Oh, Clark,” You whispered, your hand coming up to rest over your chest, where you could feel your heart thudding against your palm.

Before you stretched the field where you and Clark had your first date, and it was as breathtaking as you remembered. Rolling grassy hills spread out in every direction, their lush green softened by the warm light of the afternoon. Dotted throughout were wildflowers in shades of yellow, purple, and white, swaying in the gentle breeze.

At the heart of it all stood the giant oak tree, its massive branches stretching out wide, casting shadows across the grass. Its leaves were the most perfect shade of green. It was the same spot where the two of you spent hours talking, sharing stories and laughter as though the world had stopped for you.

You couldn’t help but be swept away by the vivid memories that filled this place. Like the time you had insisted on climbing the tree. You had managed to scramble up a few sturdy branches, laughing as Clark stood below, clearly amused by your determination. As you got to a pretty thick branch to rest on, you had looked down and teased him about being stuck on the ground, but then he simply floated up to meet your gaze, making you roll your eyes jokingly.

Then there was the quiet afternoon when you had both decided that the day was perfect for reading. So, you both sat at the base of the tree, the shade cool. Clark’s head rested in your lap, a paperback novel in his hands. You’d been absentmindedly carding your fingers through his dark curls, marveling at how soft they were while you tried to pay attention to your own book in your free hand. He glanced up at you every so often, his blue eyes full of warmth, and he’d just smile…

And who could forget the picnic where you had fed him strawberries, only for him to lean forward and kiss you, his lips tasting of sweet fruit? Or the time he’d coaxed you into lying on the grass to stargaze when you both stayed at the field a bit longer than usual. His voice was soft as he named constellations, with his hand warm as it held yours, and your cheek nuzzling into the fabric of his flannel.

It had been a while since you had had the time to come to the field. With work and life in general, neither you or Clark really had much time to take the forty minute drive down. As you stared at the beautiful scenery around you, you sighed… You really did miss this place.

You turned to Clark, tears welling up in your eyes at the memories that he had brought back to life. “I can’t believe you brought me here.”

He gave you that smile - the one that made your heart ache in the best way possible, “I know we haven’t had much time lately,” He admitted, his tone tinged with both apology and fondness. Deep down, he knew that around fifty percent of the reason why you hadn’t come to the field was because of his… Superhero duties. And he also knew that if he said it out loud, you would immediately brush it off, telling him he didn’t need to feel guilty. What he did helped people, saved people. You understood. The wait is always worth it, in your opinion. Still, the thought lingered, tugging at the corners of his mind. “But I thought it’d be nice to come back here. It’s been too long, and I didn’t want us to forget how special this place is.”

You didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, you smiled at him, your lips curling into something soft and tender as you let out a dreamy sigh. Your gaze lingered on him, drinking in every detail of his face, your heart swelling with such profound love for him.

Clark cleared his throat suddenly, as though he’d just remembered something. “Oh! Wait a second,” He spun on his heel and rushed to the back seat of the truck, opening the door with a bit more urgency than necessary. After a moment of rustling, he straightened up, holding a picnic basket in his hands. He turned to face you, a nervous but undeniably endearingly adorable smile on his face. “I, uh… I thought a picnic might be fun.”

You sighed once more, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and affection for him rising in your chest. Your Clark… Your beautiful and thoughtful Clark… He was simply the best at planning dates.

Clark reached into the basket and pulled out a picnic blanket, but before he could unfold it, you stepped forward, taking it from him with a soft laugh. You stayed close as you did, the proximity enough to make yours and his heart race. Without thinking, your free hand found its way to his cheek, gently cupping it, your thumb brushing along his soft skin as you searched his eyes.

“This… This is the best surprise, Clark,” You muttered, your voice barely audible as you leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The kiss was brief, sweet, but it conveyed everything your heart had been holding - everything words couldn’t express. You pulled back gently, a smile curving on your lips as you met his gaze. Clark’s eyes were soft, his lips slightly parted, as though he was still lingering in the warmth of your lips against his. A faint blush colored his cheeks, and his usual confidence seemed replaced by something tender, almost vulnerable; his gaze never left you.

A short time later, the two of you were at the base of the tree, the blanket spread out beneath the branches. You worked together to set up, arranging the food and drinks with care. A small thermos of iced tea, sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, and a container of fruit. The simple utensils - plastic forks and paper napkins - were set out in an organized fashion. It wasn’t much, but it was perfect, made all the more special by the fact that it was the two of you, here, in this spot where your journey together had begun.

Clark was nervous. Incredibly so. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed the way his breath left his lungs with a slight shake or how his hands fumbled over the simplest of tasks, like unwrapping the sandwiches. He caught himself stumbling over his words more than once, trying to mask it with small smiles or glances your way. But, maybe you did notice. Maybe you didn’t want to say anything. That wasn’t like you, though - you always noticed. When he was nervous, you’d take notice right away, always asking if he was alright or if something was troubling him. So why now, when his heart raced and his nerves felt frayed, hadn’t you asked? Did you really not notice? Or were you simply giving him the space to sort through it himself?

He didn’t know.

But it was making him more nervous, if that was even possible.

You were telling him about your day at work. All about the boring business meeting you had to go to, it was mandatory for some reason, even though it could’ve just been an email. But, when Clark surprised you by picking you up after work really turned the entire day around. “Seeing your face always brightens my day,” You said with a soft laugh, your gaze meeting his.

Clark tried to focus on your words, to give you the attention you deserved, but the weight in his back pocket was impossible to ignore. And it had been for the past three weeks since he bought it. His thoughts kept drifting back to it - the small, velvet box that felt heavier than anything he’d ever lifted. He shifted subtly on the blanket, his fingers twitching as they clenched around the fabric under his hand as he propped himself up.

“Clark?” Your voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, a hint of amusement lacing your tone. “You okay? You’re awfully quiet.”

Oh, who was he kidding? He didn’t have only one weakness. He had Kryptonite and then you. He blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you a little too intently. “Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” He replied quickly, the slight waver in his voice betraying him.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “You sure about that?” Clark bit his lip, casting his gaze down at his half-eaten sandwich, his brows knitting together. Your amused grin faltered, replaced by a softer expression as concern etched itself into your features. You leaned closer, your hand gently resting on his arm. “Clark,” You said softly, your voice laced with warmth and care. “What’s wrong?”

The subtle weight of your touch and the genuine concern in your eyes made his heart ache. He let out a shaky breath, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as he tried to find the right words. “It’s… Nothing, really,” He mumbled, but even he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

“Clark,” You pressed gently, your thumb brushing against his arm in a soothing motion. “You can tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here.” He looked up then, his blue eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he was struck silent by the way you looked at him - so full of love and trust. And that only made the weight in his pocket feel heavier. You then tried to lighten the mood, a playful smile tugging at your lips despite the concern still lingering in your eyes. “Come on, Clark, whatever it is, it can’t be worse than the time you told me you were Superman.”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile almost breaking through his nervous demeanor. “That was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” He murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of fondness and anxiety.

You chuckled, giving his arm a playful squeeze. “Oh, I remember. You sat me down like you were about to confess to a crime or something. ‘It’s a big deal,’ you said. And sure, finding out my boyfriend wears tights under his clothes was a lot to process, but hey, we survived.”

Clark chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar, easing some of the tension in the air. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath as he nodded, his hand absently smoothing over the blanket. “This… Might be bigger,” He admitted quietly.

Your brow furrowed, and your teasing smile melted into something softer, more reassuring. “Bigger than Superman? Now you’ve definitely got me curious.”

Clark cleared his throat, his eyes dropping from yours as his nerves began to take hold again. He sat up straighter, his posture more rigid, and the soft frown crept back onto his face. You waited patiently, your heart racing in your chest, but you didn’t push him. Whatever he needed to say, you’d let him say it in his own time.

He raised his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat once more before turning his body to face you fully, sitting cross-legged in front of you. His eyes locked onto yours - determined but still nervous. “Y/N,” He started, but then he faltered, huffing in frustration as he shook his head. Raising his hands, he tried again, but halfway through the sentence, he stopped. “Do you remember…” He began anew, his voice a little steadier, “That week we went to visit my parents? We stopped at that little diner about twenty minutes from the farm.”

You tilted your head slightly, nodding with a soft smile. “Of course. How could I forget? Their milkshakes are legendary.”

Clark’s lips twitched into a small, nervous smile. “Right. You ordered two milkshakes for yourself - one chocolate, one strawberry - because you were so confident you could finish them both. But halfway through the second one, you were practically pleading with me to help you finish it because you didn’t want to waste it, and you were getting brainfreeze.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “Hey, in my defense, they were huge milkshakes. I wasn’t expecting the glass to be a foot tall.”

He chuckled along with you, his eyes softening as he continued. “Yeah, they were pretty tall glasses. But that wasn’t what stuck with me. It was the way the sunlight came through the diner window, hitting your face just right. Your hair had that golden glow to it, and your eyes… They were brighter than anything I’d ever seen.”

Your smile softened, and you could feel the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “Clark…”

He shook his head slightly, pressing on as if he had to get the words out now before his nerves got the better of him. “And then you laughed. Not just a little laugh, but the kind that made everyone else in the diner turn to look at you. You didn’t care, though. You just smiled at me, completely unbothered by the world. And then…” His voice grew quieter, his gaze holding yours as he spoke. “You leaned across the table, stole a fry off my plate, and dipped it into your milkshake…”

Your laugh was softer this time, your eyes glistening as you watched him. “Is this an intervention about stealing your food all the time?”

“No…” Clark smiled warmly, his hand brushing over the blanket as he stared at you. “You were perfect. And in that moment, with the sun on your face and that laugh… I knew.”

You blinked, your mouth slightly open as your breath hitched. “Knew what?” You whispered.

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. “That I wanted to marry you.”

You watched with bated breath as Clark shifted, his hand reaching back to pull something from his back pocket. Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, you knew. The realization hit you like a wave, and you could feel the telltale sting of tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Clark…” You began, but couldn’t finish as you slowly raised both hands to cover your mouth, your breath catching as the small velvet box appeared in his hand.

Clark’s fingers trembled slightly as he held it, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been carrying this around for weeks,” He confessed softly, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “Waiting for the perfect moment… But the truth is, every moment with you feels perfect.”

Tears spilled over your cheeks as you shook your head slightly, overwhelmed with emotion. “Oh, Clark…” You managed, your voice muffled behind your hands.

He smiled, his own eyes glistening as he opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. The band shimmered with a soft, delicate shine in the light, and at its center was a brilliant stone. “I love you more than anything,” He said, his voice steady despite the emotions coursing through him. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, Y/N… Will you marry me?”

You took in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as tears continued to stream down your face. You stared at the ring, then back up at him, your heart racing with disbelief and joy. Suddenly, you surged forward, collapsing into his arms, wrapping your own arms tightly around his neck. The surprise knocked him backward, his back hitting the blanket beneath you both.

You sobbed into his shoulder, barely able to breathe through your emotions. “Yes… Yes!” You cried, repeating it over and over, your fingers weaving into his soft curls, “Yes, Clark!” Clark’s heart swelled at your answer, and he smiled - a huge, bright, beautiful smile that lit up his entire face. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let go. You lifted yourself slightly, staring down at him, your heart full as you gazed into his eyes. “I would love nothing more than to marry you,” You said softly, your voice thick with love. Without another word, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss.

The kiss started gentle, your lips brushed against his, warm and soft. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, deepening the kiss. You responded, your fingers continuing their journey through his hair, tugging him even closer. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness and you melted into him, completely lost in the kiss.

As you slowly pulled back, your breaths mingling and your heart racing, you couldn’t help yourself - your hands gently cupped his face, and you pressed soft, joyful kisses all over him. First, you kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment, then moved to the smooth skin of his cheeks, your lips barely grazing his skin before you kissed the tip of his nose.

Clark’s eyes fluttered closed with each kiss, a soft chuckle escaping him when you kissed his nose, before rubbing your nose against his. His hands gently gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned into your touch, his face breaking into a warm, adoring smile. He let out a soft sigh of contentment, clearly overwhelmed by the moment. “You’re incredible,” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Eventually, the two of you slowly pulled back, sitting up together. Clark took a deep breath as he reached for the small box that had somehow fallen to the side - which were next to his glasses, which flew off as well - and with careful hands, he slipped the ring onto your finger.

After admiring your ring, wiggling your fingers to watch the gem in the middle sparkle in the sunlight, you looked up at Clark - well, your now fiancé, “Well, guess this means you're officially stuck with me forever, huh?” You teased, grinning playfully.

Clark rolled his eyes lovingly, a soft chuckle escaping him. “You’re the one who’s stuck with me,” He said, his voice warm, yet playful. Then, without another word, he gently took your hand, the one adorned with the ring, and pulled you close; his eyes softened as he leaned in, sealing your lips with his. You let out a soft sigh, your free hand coming up to cup his cheek, and for a moment, you let yourself completely lose yourself in his warmth and love.

And in that moment, there was nothing else - just the two of you, in love, sitting under the giant oak tree.

~~~

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