#and this conversation was the cherry on top | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weirdgenetic-fuckup · 1 day

Text

No Nut November - Steven

A/n: I had no motivation to write this but I'm happy it's finally done and I can add to this short series that people seem to be enjoying, oddly enough I don't expect this one to get the same love as the others just because it's Steven BUT I LOVE POPCORN

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, Steven being sad, reader admits to getting off on Steven in the middle of the night, if you think I missed something let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Intro

No nut November was a stupid idea, he never should’ve brought it up. The month hadn’t even started yet and he was pissed.

He left the studio with a headache just thinking about what would happen when he eventually lost. Even after moving in with you he’s woken up multiple times with stains on his underwear, all while you were sound asleep beside him.

He blasted the radio on his way home. Once he got to your shared apartment he couldn’t bring himself to get out and just sat there listening to Aerosmith’s “Crazy”, and a whole lot of their other sad songs. How did the radio know what he needed? And why was it all one of his favourite bands? He didn’t know, but he took it as a sign anyway and sat in his self-pity.

Eventually you came out and knocked on his window. He rolled it down and looked up at you with sad eyes and pouty lips.

“Did something happen?” You asked, reaching out for him and holding his face in your hand. He shook his head. “Then why are you sad?” He took a deep breath and rolled the window up, turned the car off and got out.

“Let’s just go inside.” He mumbled, an arm going over your shoulder as he walked you back inside.

Steven went straight for the couch and turned the TV on to distract himself. You went to the kitchen and got dinner, the dinner you made before he got home. It was a little cold but edible nonetheless.

“You wanna talk about it?” You asked as you sat beside him. Steven poked at his food and slumped back on the couch.

“The guys and I have a bet going to see who can go a whole month without-” He stopped abruptly, not wanting to say it in front of your home cooked chicken.

“Without..?” You repeated softly, wanting him to finish what he was saying, though you had a pretty good idea on what he meant. “We can’t do anything for a month?” You finally asked, the drummer solemnly shook his head.

“It sucks ‘cause I know I’m gonna lose, I mean, I can’t even count the amount of wet dreams I get from just sleeping beside you.” You froze for a second. Steven must have seen that because he groaned. “Shit, sorry, I guess you didn’t know.”

“Guess I’ll have to stop doing that...” You muttered under your breath.

“You’ll stop doing what?” He looked at you with a smile, wanting to hear this dirty little secret you’ve been keeping from him.

“Well, it’s just,” you started, cheeks starting to heat up, “sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and-and you just look so pretty beside me...” You trail off, now it’s your turn to poke your food.

“Do you fuck me in my sleep?” He asked, sounding more proud than anything. You drop your fork with a huff.

“I don’t do that, I just- I may or may not...” You trail off again, poking your food once more.

“Do you get off on me in the middle of the night?” Steven asked with a big smile and bright eyes. You huffed again and that was all the confirmation he needed. “Oh, sweetheart, you could’ve just woken me up, I would’ve loved to help you out!”

“I know, but I don’t want to wake you up for something that simple when I know you won’t wake up if I just do it.” I look up at him with a small pout that quickly fades to a grin. “You sleep like a dead log, by the way.” You added with a chuckle. Steven scoffed and threw a cooked cut of carrot at you.

After that conversation Steven had more hope in this bet. Then he heard that Duff was out and he thought it would be even easier! The cherry on top was Axl getting out before him, oh he was teasing the ginger about it the rest of the day. Axl almost killed him for it, but he had no regrets.

He came home to you, hoping to tell you about it because he was so proud of himself for lasting longer than Axl, the man who started it. Kind of, it was mostly the drummer's fault for bringing up NNN in the first place. However, when he got home he found you already asleep on the couch.

Steven thought you were adorable, all curled up in your blankets with the TV on. God, he loved you so much.

He picked you up and carried you to bed, helping you out of your jeans and into something a little comfier before crawling into bed with you and falling asleep with his head on your chest, his favourite sleeping position.

“Stevie.” You whispered in his ear. “Come on, Stevie.” You gave him a little shake, trying to wake him up. When he didn’t stir you moved to sit on his lap, hovering over his limp dick with your hands planted on his fluffy chest. “Stevie~” You purred. “Stevie I need you~” You leaned forward and started kissing his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin and biting his earlobe.

Finally the man began to wake up. “What are you- Oh~” He hummed when he put two and two together. “Couldn’t wait till morning?” You shook your head and rolled over beside him.

“I know you can’t do anything but...” You trailed off, tracing shapes on his bare chest.

“But..?” He prompted. You looked up at him with pleading eyes and a pout you know he just can’t say no to.

“Please..?”

“Please what?” His hand trailed up your arm and down your side before landing on your waist, giving it soft squeezes.

“What if you just fingered me or something?” You asked, thinking of other alternatives. Steven thought about it for a moment before crawling over you, slowly lowering himself further down the bed.

“I’ve got a better idea.” He mused as he tugged on the waistband of your shorts. His shorts, really, he got you into them because he thought they’d be more comfortable while you slept.

He pulled them off of you, as well as your underwear, and stayed like that for a moment just admiring your slick folds before delving into them. His tongue worked wonders on your sensitive parts, dipping into your cunt and circling your clit, sucking on the nub and making you go cross eyed with moans spilling out of you like a second language.

You had barely noticed that Steven had started grinding himself against the bed. His only thought was pleasuring you, though usually when he ate you out he’d do this, it was instinctual to get himself off on getting you off. He couldn’t help it, his drooling cock was bright red and ready to burst the same way you were, the knot in your gut quickly coming undone.

You screamed out his name, your hands pulling his hair as your thighs clamped down on his head. You often did that and he never complained once, rather loving the feeling of being locked to you.

You felt him moaning around you and when you looked down you could see he was twitching, he looked ready to cry.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” You cooed, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at him. Steven got up and looked down to see a huge wet spot on his sweats, right where his cock was bulging through.

“I-I didn’t mean to-” He sputtered, clearly not over his high. You weren’t nearly as pent up as he’d been, getting yourself off whenever the need came about, the only difference was that Steven wasn’t the one getting you off. You hadn’t thought about how pent up he must’ve been, hell he probably didn’t put too much thought into it either.

“Well,” you started, still staring at his crotch, “if you’re out now there’s nothing keeping us from continuing... right?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, but...” Steven trailed off.

“But..?”

“I’m tired.” He said and crawled back to the top of the bed so he could lay down. “Can you top?” He asked with a big grin. You returned the expression and happily climbed on top of him.

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses smut #steven adler x reader #steven adler fluff #steven adler gnr #gnr #steven adler

28 notes · View notes

safarigirlsp · 24 hours

Text

Forbidden

Hogwarts Professor Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Aggressive and Dominant Jacques. Chasing. Implied Age Gap. Student/Professor Dynamics. Professor/Professor Dynamics. Everyone is over 18, as All Readers Must Be.

AO3 Link

Author’s Note: Based on a special request for a sexy Christmas party with Professor Le Gris from my beautiful friend @kyloremus ! She does the absolute best edits around and keeps me absolutely rabid! Edits by her, of course!

More Hogwarts Professor Jacques fics for anyone hooked:

Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

Dashing Through The Snow

I Put A Spell On You

A Duel to Remember

Fog hung heavily in the winter air, snaking through the cobblestone streets and the serpentine twists of Diagon Alley. Fat snowflakes danced lazily down from swirling carbon clouds and the cobblestones were icy and slick beneath the fresh powder snow. Shop windows glowed with a kaleidoscope of lights and buttered rum and spiced wine could be scented on the frosted air. Christmas Eve was a glittering evening, the kind filled with beauty and wonder and promise. A gust of wind blew down the alley toward you, twirling a flurry of snow up from the ground. You pulled your coat tighter around your body and trotted toward your destination a few businesses ahead.

Ducking inside the welcoming doors of the Leaky Cauldron, you were instantly enveloped by warmth and the smell of drinks and fried food. The bar was more crowded than you had ever seen it, packed to standing room only with patrons out for Christmas Eve. Festive music, a mix of cherry and clubby, almost made you want to dance as you weaved your way through the crowd. The edges of the bar were obscured in that murky shadow that liked to linger on the sidelines, like wallflower shades watching from the wings. You could see figures of people sitting in the shadows, but couldn’t make out any discerning features. You could almost feel a pair of eyes on you, watching you from the shadows.

A wave from the crowded bar caught your eye. A group of four people pressed together at the bar, two couples, waiting for you. Your friends. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be the third wheel in your group, still single after your closest friends had paired up with men during their school years and shortly thereafter. Zelda was now married and Dina, more protective of her freedom, was with a man she had been dating for years. It was easy to see that the man who was supposed to meet you tonight was absent. You expected to hear whatever excuse he had for that from your friends. It was no bother, really. Blind dates were always something of a disaster.

Zelda waved at you more animatedly, fitting for your bubbly blonde friend. Beside her Dina, a stately brunette, must have told their men to clear some space for you because both men moved to the edge of the bar under the guise of having some conversation amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe Gaston stood you up!” Zelda huffed indignantly when you joined them, referring to your absentee blind date. “What an asshole! I wouldn’t have thought it of him.”

“It’s best for the assholes to weed themselves out early,” you said nonchalantly. It was hardly an upset. You were beginning a new job soon anyway, one that would have you sequestered away from the world for most of the year. Starting a relationship now was impractical.

“I agree,” Dina added. “At least you hadn’t invested any energy in him or wasted any time. Besides, now if we see him out and about, we have every reason to be as nasty as possible to him, which is always fun.”

“To hell with him,” you said and took the beer the bartender slid in front of you. The three of you raised your glasses and clinked them together to a round of, “Merry Christmas!”

“There’s more to celebrate on top of the holidays,” Dina said with a coy smile.

“Yes!” Zelda added excitedly. She clinked your glass again with too much vigor, spilling beer over both your hands. “Cheers to the newest professor at Hogwarts!”

Elation and slight embarrassment rushed through you at her toast. You were proud and excited, and still a bit in disbelief that you had secured such a coveted position. After all, it hadn’t been too long ago that you had graduated from Hogwarts yourself.

“To the new History of Magic Professor!” Dina added and took a drink. “Leave it to you to make that class interesting at last. I must admit I’m shocked the Headmaster liked your pitch.”

“Not nearly as shocked as I am.” A wide grin spread across your lips. “I figured that since I had no real chance of getting the job anyway, I might as well shoot my shot and lay all my aspirations out on the table. In my wildest dreams, I never suspected the Headmaster would actually want a course that teaches both the history of magic and the added practice of the arcane spells we lost to history.”

“Another toast! To no lost limbs or dismembered students in your first term!” Zelda teased.

“At least, to no one I like,” you laughed.

“Just think,” Dina mused with a rosy blush on her cheeks. “Now you’ll be on equal standing with our old professors.”

“Ooo, yes!” Zelda said conspiratorially. “Maybe it’s best you’re going into this job single.”

Nearly every teenage girl at Hogwarts had a crush on one professor or other. You and your friends were no exception. It didn’t help matters that several professors were men in their prime, in their thirties and forties, at the peak of their attractiveness. Zelda had charmed her journal to explode with pink hearts whenever she wrote a certain name in its pages. The hearts smelled like roses and would flutter around her like butterflies. Of course, the name belonged to their charms professor, a dashing man with chic mahogany hair, masculine chest hair that peeked through the buttons in his shirt, and eyes as richly green as the forest after a rain. Dina had been so enamored of their quidditch coach, a tall athlete with golden hair, sky blue eyes and a movie-star smile, that she engineered a few nasty falls from her broom just so he would rush to rescue her and carry her to the hospital wing in his burly arms.

It was undeniable that both professors were attractive, but your interest had never been piqued by nerds or jocks. Bad boys appealed to you, or rather, tall, dark and handsome men. Byronic men with a hint of darkness who would be right at home in a gothic Victorian novel. The sort of man who exuded danger and vigor, the kind who had a predatory presence and a devil-may-care glint in his eye. The kind of man who, when he looked at you, he looked ravenously, leaving you wondering if he was going to steal you away to a dark tower or ravage you against the wall at the ball where you could be discovered at any moment.

As schoolgirls, the three of you spent countless hours in the library and common room discussing your favorite literary men, debating which men were the best. Fortunately, there was never any competition between you for your favorites. Zelda could have gallant Mr. Darcy and Gatsby and Atticus Finch. Dina could claim lively Cpt. Wentworth and Beowulf and Jean Valjean. So long as they left roguish Mr. Rochester and Heathcliff and Edmund Dantes for you. The dark antiheroes and villains who you weren’t really supposed to love. The forbidden kind of man. Prince Charming was so boring compared to the Beast, and what prissy prince could eat you better than the Big Bad Wolf? Naturally, the literary epitome of this was Count Dracula, but until he crossed oceans of time to find you, you were left with a sadly more mortal selection of men.

And if there was ever a man who epitomized tall, dark, handsome, and Byronic, it was Jacques Le Gris. When he stalked down the halls, he looked as if he were roaming his family’s century’s old gothic mansion. When he strolled across the grounds in the evening, it was easy to picture him roaming a Scottish moor. Adding to this imagery was the fact that he often undid the top two buttons of his shirt when taking his evening stroll, revealing the thick cleft of his chest. You thought you were suffering a heart attack one morning when you saw him running shirtless near the lake through the mist before dawn.

In coffee and in men, your tastes ran dark, robust, and strong. It was the Head of Slytherin House and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor who had captivated you from the moment you first saw him. The year he came to Hogwarts as the new defense against the dark arts professor was your last year in school, and despite the number of candles on your birthday cake, there was nothing childish about you at seventeen. The memory of that first day was still as vivid in your mind as the present moment you were living. Professor Le Gris all but storming down the hall in his long purposeful stride, unruly ebony hair dusting his impossibly broad shoulders, his cape swirling in his wake as though it were a living thing. Heat flooded you at the mere memory. Some girls had their sexual awakening in some bumbling experiment with a pimpled teenage boy under the quidditch stands. For you, it was imagining Professor Le Gris’s huge hands running over your body, gripping you so hard in his passion that the bruises he left lingered for days; his long hair falling around his face in sweaty tendrils as he looked down at you, caged beneath his enormous body, running your hands over his broad back and feeling his muscles flex with every thrust into you.

Memories of your darkest fantasies flooded your mind with an almost dizzying intensity. It was unsettling, you had never experienced such vivid, intrusive visions. The feeling of Professor Le Gris’s hands on your body felt as real as the wooden bar you leaned against. The sound of him growling your name in your ear rang deeper than the cheery music in the bar. The rich masculine scent of him overrode the smells around you, and the taste of beer on your tongue was overshadowed by the taste of his skin and arousal.

“Hello?” Zelda snapped her fingers in front of your nose playfully. “Were you listening at all? I asked if you still have a crush on our old defense against the dark arts professor?”

“Oh, Professor Le Gris?” you feigned ignorance, hoping your friends didn’t see the way your pupils had dilated at the thought of him. “I haven’t thought of him in years.”

“Perhaps you can seduce Professor Le Gris and put in a good word for me with Professor Wren and we can have an awkward double date together,” Zelda laughed. “Best we not tell my husband.”

You rolled your eyes and took a drink in an attempt to open your throat back up, since it had closed at the thought of him.

“You’re not a student anymore,” Dina said suggestively. “And rumor has it Professor Le Gris is newly single again after some tawdry fling with one of those jezebels teaching at Beauxbatons. You’re rather lucky, you know? I was devastated to hear that Coach Baldr had married.” She nodded toward her boyfriend at the end of the bar and snickered. “Poor Albert has no clue how precarious a position he has. I would leave him in a moment if that Norse god wanted to take me to Valhalla.”

“Speaking of rumors,” Zelda said, lowering her voice to the quiet tone they once used to gossip in the library. “I still wonder if Le Gris is a werewolf. He has the look, doesn’t he? Those amber eyes, all that bushy hair, and those teeth. The way he looks at you a little too intensely. Can’t you just picture him howling at the moon?”

“My money is still on him being an animagi,” Dina argued. “I agree that he would be a wolf though, like his patronus is. A big black wolf with yellow eyes.”

Unbidden, the image came to you of a big black wolf chasing after you as you ran through a misty forest. Your heart pounded in your ears, almost as loud as the wolf thundering behind you. You inhaled sharply as the wolf lunged at you, sinking his teeth into your neck, pleasurably painful. Your wide eyes shot up as if the bite was real. And met a pair of amber eyes across the room, watching you from a shadowy corner of the bar.

Shock froze you in place, made your muscles seize as though it was Medusa’s eyes you had looked into and been instantly turned to stone. It was lucky actually. Otherwise, you would surely have dropped your beer and made a much more outward spectacle. As it was, you managed to keep a modicum of decorum and show no obvious displays of surprise. Or arousal, even as old fantasies again played in your mind like a song on repeat. You met those eyes steadily, eyes you hadn’t seen in person since your last day as a student at Hogwarts.

Professor Jacques Le Gris watched you intently. The way a wolf watches a fox frolicking unaware. Even the way he leaned casually back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, was lupine. A predator at ease, waiting for the opportune moment to seize his prey. Though he reclined in his chair, he still dwarfed the small round table for two. He was dressed all in black, the way you had most often seen him. Only tonight, his jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms. His cravat was undone, the tails hanging down on either side of his shirt, framing the vee of chest that was exposed by the top two open buttons. He looked every bit the swarthy rake, a bodice-ripping libertine straight out of a Victorian penny dreadful. A half-smoked cigar was pinched between his index and middle fingers, a tendril of smoke spiraling from its glowing end toward the ceiling as he casually circled the rim of his glass with his forefinger. His eyes had a fiery glint to match the cigar.

Instantly, you wondered how long he had been there. How long he had been watching you. If he had heard you. Judging by the level of his drink and the length of his cigar, he had been there some time before you arrived. His plush lips twitched in a lopsided smirk as he raised his glass to them, watching you over the rim as he took a drink. Another image intruded into your thoughts. Professor Le Gris striding down one of the many long, dark hallways of Hogwarts. He was behind you, stalking you. And of course he caught you. Grabbing your shoulder, he roughly turned you around and pushed you back against the nearest wall. He crowded against you, towered over you. His hips pinned you to the wall and his arms caged you in, his huge hands planted on either side of your head. He leaned in, his lips hot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. Every part of him was huge and hard; his thick chest under your hands, his iron fingers gripping you, his massive cock digging into you through his pants. The thought was too real, utterly taking command of your mind, and your body responded. A deep throb rocked through your core along with a melting heat, dripping through you slowly and deliberately like candle wax.

“I need some air,” you told your friends. They looked at you concerned, so you added convincingly. “It’s nothing. Really. It’s just stuffy in here with the Christmas party crowd. You know how I hate being packed in with the unwashed masses.”

You pushed through the crowded bar and all but bolted outside, hoping the cool winter air would have a chilling effect on your rampant imagination. Outside, you walked briskly, feeling the icy snowflakes land on your cheeks. And the way they steamed on your hotly flushed skin. Thankfully, there were few people outside on Christmas Eve. They were all either home with family or inside at a party like the Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley itself was nearly vacant, the shops darkened. Darker still and more vacant was Knockturn Alley. You were counting on it as you rounded the corner into the literal darker alley and trotted past a few darkened storefronts.

In the privacy of a shadowy doorway you leaned against the locked door and let out a heavy breath. You sounded lewd even to your own ears. The overhand of the doorway blocked the snow from falling on you and your skin felt instantly hot again. Another image flooded your mind, and you began to wonder if this was what madness felt like. This vision was different than any you had ever had before, but just as vivid. In your mind’s eye you saw Professor Le Gris standing shirtless in a gothic bedchamber with tall arched windows and a grand king bed, perhaps his chambers at Hogwarts or his home, wherever that was. In that omniscient way you know the thoughts of every character in dreams, you knew the thoughts that plagued him. How he had been consumed by the desire for a particular woman for years. A forbidden woman. Jacques would never seduce a student, fuck a student. No matter how beautiful and enticing, and blatantly responsible for his wolfish hunger you were. In nearly forty years, he had never been so captivated. So enchanted. So cursed.

Clear as a florid memory, you saw Jacques lean against the wall, pressing his head to the cool stone. Here, in private, he could imagine all the things he could never do in reality. Like fuck his favorite student. He knew how wrong it was even to think such disturbing things. The thought made him grin to himself, an indulgent, devilishly handsome grin. He pictured your luscious body. He wondered how sweet you smell. He imagined how delicious you taste. When he focused hard enough, he could feel the tight hot squeeze of you around his cock when he fucked his fist. Stroking his cock, he imagined thrusting into you, over and over and over, feeling you strain and flutter when he stretched you around him. The way he groaned was absolutely filthy when he came, imagining he was filling you until it was leaking out of you. He all but banged his forehead on the stone wall when he finally rested his head there, his hair falling around his face in a disheveled ebony curtain, his bare chest heaving and glistening with sweat.

There in the snowy alley, you watched it all happen in your mind’s eye as though it were your own memory. No, less like a memory and more like watching it happen through a window, like a voyeur. Your friend’s statement flashed in your mind. An exciting, enticing thought.

I am no longer a student.

As you felt a slick heat ruining your panties, you sobered for a moment. Just long enough for one lucid thought that was both thrilling and frightening. You remembered another rumor about Professor Le Gris. He was rumored to be a master of occlumency and legilimency. A legilimens could access another’s mind, see their thoughts and feel their feelings. No one could keep any secrets from a legilimens. Not only could a man with such a skill read your thoughts, he could influence them. He could plant any thought, any feeling, any image into your head as though it was your own. He could make you fantasize about him and remember your most forbidden desires. He could make you see what he felt for you, what he always had. He could make all those thoughts and feelings boil to the surface of your mind, make your desires simmer. He could even make you drip for him, almost on command.

“I’ve known your secrets for some time,” his voice sounded from the alley corner. Real this time, deep and hoarse with desire of his own. Jacques Le Gris leaned against the brick wall of the shop whose doorway you had hidden in. “The way you wanted me to corner you in the halls, pin you there against the wall where you couldn’t escape. Take whatever I want.” His pose was casual, his shoulder leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankle. But his eyes were the opposite, watching you with a burning intensity that all but crackled through the air. “Now, you know my secret, too.” His voice was a growl when he added, “I’ve always wanted you. To ruin you for any other man. To make you mine and keep you all to myself.” He pushed away from the wall and stalked toward you in that predatory way of his. “And now, there’s not a damn thing stopping me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, a feeble attempt to cling to some dignity. A thought flitted through your mind – he was prostrating himself before you. In his own way, he was making himself just as exposed as you were. He was pursuing you, taking the greater risk.

“Don’t you, now?” he teased in a gravelly voice. “I’ll never believe you didn’t know how you tormented me. Seeing you in those little skirts, thinking about those fumble-fucking schoolboys laying their clumsy hands on you. Knowing how much more a man could give you. What I could give you.”

“And what exactly is it that you could give me?” You tilted your chin up defiantly to add, “Professor?”

“Knowledge.” He walked to you until he stood so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, grinning wickedly at the way his proximity affected you. “Regardless of what else I may be, I’m a very good professor. There is a loophole in the Hogwarts Code of Conduct that you might find interesting. Relevant.” He placed his hand on the door next to your head and leaned in close, his body only inches from yours. “Would you like to learn it?”

“If it saves me the time reading through the Code myself,” you tried to sound nonchalant, certain you failed. In fact, you did need to read those exact Codes before assuming your role as a new professor, but you had until the start of term to do it.

“Still a procrastinator through and through,” Jacques tisked you and leaned closer, his entire forearm now resting on the door next to your head, his face very close to yours. “You should know that relations between fellow Hogwarts professors are forbidden. A fireable offense.” He dropped his head and brought his prominent nose near your neck, and you thought he was going to kiss you there. Instead, he inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the scent of you like some exotic perfume he had long been denied. “But forbidden only when the relationship postdates the beginning of a professor’s tenure.”

His words seemed to echo in your thoughts, needing a moment to take root. Looking up, you met his eyes. Eyes that glimmered like gold in the snowy night. “Relationships that predate the beginning of a professor’s term are allowed?”

“Clever girl,” Jacques said, his lips still near your neck, his breath steaming hot on your skin. “You always were a quick study. The very best and brightest. Did you think I only wanted you for that luscious ass?”

You tried to detect a note of sarcasm, but found none. You took a steadying breath and put a tentative hand on his chest. It was hard as granite beneath your hand. Jacques placed his free hand over yours, trapping your hand over his heart. You fixed your eyes on his, watching for a flicker of doubt when you asked, “What is it you want with me, Professor? Exactly?”

“Everything,” he growled the single word. It was more than an affirmation. His eyes told you it was a promise.

“We shouldn’t waste a moment, then,” you told him confidently. Fortune favors the bold, as they say.

“You read my mind.” He smiled genuinely, one of the very few you had ever seen on his lips. His toothy smile could have looked gawky, but right now, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. His chest rose and fell under your hand as he leaned in to kiss you. Before his lips consummated your first kiss, he whispered, “My name is Jacques, not ‘professor.’”

“I’ll save professor for when I want you to teach me something, then,” you made your voice as seductive as possible now that you had decided on your course of action. It was easy now that you were confident he felt the same, that he desired you as fiercely as you did him. You eased your hips toward him, arching your back away from the door. Your lips were already parted when they met his, eager to finally taste the man you had dreamed of for so long.

The taste of him when he kissed you, the feel of him when his powerful body pressed against you, the strength of his hands on you was so much better than anything your imagination had ever conjured. It must have been the same for Jacques because he groaned into your mouth, his free hand dropped to your waist and he pulled you against him almost brutally. You wanted to feel every inch of your body pressed to his. Lifting a leg, you hooked it over his hip and wrapped your arms around his neck, using your entire body to pull him closer. His hand caressed your thigh from your knee up to your ass then squeezed you there. It would be so easy for him to hoist you up off the ground, for you to wrap your legs around him, for him to fuck you right now against the lonely door in Knockturn Alley, while snowflakes gathered in your hair.

“I know what you want. I’ve seen your fantasies,” Jacques purred, pulling back from your lips just enough to speak. “I know them so well they might as well be my own. Tell me which is your favorite and it will no longer be just a fantasy. I’ll enact it for you right now, down to every last detail.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing already?” you teased. You were on fire from his touch and you ached with desire. Thinking of him as you had been was its own kind of foreplay, and now it was torment to prolong it. He was hard and his cock rubbed against you through both your clothing, teasing you erotically in the perfect place. But then, he knew right where your perfect places were. And dear god, he was huge.

“This is too tame for your fantasies,” he laughed darkly. “Tell me your favorite. Although, I think I know it.” He kissed your neck, teasing your skin with his teeth and a light nip. “You want to run from me, pretend you have a chance of escaping. You want me to chase you down, catch you, rip your clothes off and fuck you like an animal. Or is that what the girls call being ravaged these days?” He pressed more weight against you, almost crushing you against the door, but the feel of his body and his weight was wonderful. “You’d pound your fists on my chest and tell me to stop, but you wouldn’t mean a word of it. You want me to take from you what has always been forbidden to give me.” Pulling back just enough to let you breathe, he brought his hand to your throat. His hand easily circled your neck, making you feel small and vulnerable, trapped in his grip. He squeezed. Gently, just enough for you to feel how easy it would be for him to truly take whatever he wanted. His voice sounded dangerous when he told you, “I can do that.”

“Yes,” you said at once without even taking a moment to think. This is what you had wanted for as long as you could remember wanting anything from a man. And Jacques Le Gris was offering to give it to. “I want our first night together to be like a fantasy. But I have a counteroffer.” He kissed you before you could make it, leaving you breathless when he pulled away. You took a breath and finished, “I say we play out my favorite fantasy first and your favorite second.” You cocked an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “If you’re game.”

“Darling, I was born game and I intend to go out that way.” When Jacques grinned at you now, sideways and wicked, the wolf practically jumped out of him. You knew he was telling the truth, that he shared your desires in full. That he wanted you just as desperately as you did him, and that he possibly had for just as long.

“Wait, I can’t just run off.” You stalled him with your hand on his chest. “What will my friends think?”

“What do you want them to think?” He slyly tapped a finger to his temple, his message clear.

“It’s enough for them to think I went home with a handsome man and not to worry about me,” you said coyly. “And it had better be true.”

“So long as you think me handsome, it’s true.” His grin widened and he pushed your arms back up around his neck. “Hold on tight.”

You knew what he was about to do before he did it and asked, “Where are you taking me?”

“The perfect place to give you what you want,” he laughed, a throaty rumbling laugh, and held you so tight you couldn’t have escaped his arms if you wanted.

Suddenly, the world blurred around you and spun as if you stood at the center of a cyclone. Your stomach swooped with the unnerving feeling of falling and a boom like thunder rang in your ears. When the world stopped spinning, your head took another moment to catch up. You swayed against Jacques in what could rightly be described as a swoon. For a few seconds, his hard body against you felt like the only solid thing in the world. He held you as you regained your balance and composure, his arms comforting and secure.

You were no longer in Knockturn Alley, or the city at all. You were surrounded by thick pine trees with snow drifting lazily down around you and leaving a light blanket on the ground. The light was diffused softly from the light of the bright full moon filtered through a thin layer of cloud. It looked like a dream and you wondered if Jacques could possibly be such a powerful legilimens that he could be crafting this world all inside your head. But you knew this was real, and you knew precisely where he had apparated with you. Although it had been years, you had been here many times before.

You shook your head at him fondly, appreciating his humor in the moment. He had taken you to the Forbidden Forest.

Jacques was game indeed. He fully intended to give you exactly what you had always wanted– a man of action instead of those of lesser fortitude who hid behind pretty words. Now that the onus was on you to accept his offer, you found it difficult to keep from trembling with nerves. He was so big, so powerful, so predatory. It was more than a little intimidating to think of him chasing you, catching you, manhandling you. It was almost frightening. But then, that was the point, wasn’t it? It was always a fine line between fear and excitement, between a fright and a thrill.

“What shall it be, beautiful?” Jacques asked. The devious bastard had probably read your mind again. Or your trepidation was that plainly written on your face. “Do you want me to play naughty or nice with you?”

“You brought me here,” you said with as much conviction as you could, making up your mind. “Carpe nocturne.”

“I’ll seize something alright.” Jacques sucked his teeth and bared his canines in a wolfish grin. Moonlight glinted off his teeth and glazed his black hair with silver, giving him a wild look. A beast, at home in these woods. He lowered his chin and fixed his lupine eyes on you, looking ravenous and dangerous. His voice rumbled through you when you told you, “I’ll give you ten seconds to run before I hunt you down and sink my teeth into that delicious ass of yours.”

“Ten seconds, huh?” you teased as you took a few tentative steps away from him deeper into the woods, exaggerating the sway of your hips seductively.

“One.” He cut off your flouncing, deadly serious, and took an ominous step toward you. He rolled one sleeve back up to his elbow where it had slipped down, somehow making that gesture look aggressive.

Smiling, you began lightly trotting through the dense trees. The forest glittered all around you in white snow, silver moonlight, and deep pine trees. The air was crisply-scented and cool, but your skin was so flushed the chill was welcome.

“Two,” he huffed behind you. “Better run a lot faster than that.”

Deciding on a path through the trees, you quickly picked up speed as adrenaline flooded your bloodstream. The idea of the chase, of running from a looming hunter, was exhilarating. You found a small game trail snaking through the forest, a pristine white laceration between the snowy trees, narrower than a footpath. The trees themselves reached their twisted branches out to you, as if to offer their help to hide you from the beast at your heels. A light mist lingered in the forest, dancing around your knees and swirling in your wake as you ran ahead.

You felt it when Jacques gave chase. You couldn’t see him now through the trees and brush that separated you, you certainly couldn’t hear him, but you felt him somehow like an electric shudder through your body, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. It was as if the forest itself felt him too, the atmosphere changing around you now that you were actively being hunted.

A thick pine tree was close ahead of you, its lush low-hanging branches inviting you near, offering you a place to hide from your pursuer. Ducking under its branches, you pressed your back to the trunk on the opposite side of the trail. Snow dusted down on you from the branches you rustled, pleasantly cool on your skin. The fragrant smell of pine and sap surrounded you as you breathed heavily through your nose, trying to slow the hammering in your chest.

Snap.

The sound of a breaking branch reverberated through the trees, making your entire body jolt. You strained your ears to divulge more sounds, but there were none to be heard. The silence around you was so complete it was oppressive after the sounds of your running. It seemed as though the forest itself had gone quiet, and the snow offered more insulation on top of it. The trees surrounding you had become an audience waiting with bated breath to see if you would make your escape. Or if you would fall victim to the hunter at your heels.

Surely, Jacques could have caught up to you by now. You expected him to charge past your hiding spot behind the pine tree only seconds after you and run ahead down the game trail.

Slowly and as quietly as you could, you turned to look around the trunk of the tree that shielded you, daring to breach the side of the tree with only one eye as you checked your backtrail. Nothing. No big bad man in sight. Even the fog had settled again.

You returned your back to the tree and rested your head back against it, still scanning the trail. As you returned to face front, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. You snapped your head around to meet Jacques’s unnerving eyes and hulking body looming right at your shoulder. You almost jumped out of your skin as a pathetic yelp left your throat. Jacques growled as his arm shot around your waist, pulling you roughly against him. He wasted no time in sinking his teeth into your neck in a biting kiss, ensuring he left a bruise to mark the presence of his lips.

“Jacques!” You jumped away from him, fueled by reflexes alone. Jacques let you. You took a moment to steady yourself, filling your lungs with air too slowly for your spinning head and rubbing the fresh mark on your neck. It stung, but sensually so.

“I’ll only count to five this time.” Jacques told you as he stepped toward you with a hint of menace and a devilish grin curling his lips.

Hungry lust radiated off Jacques in waves, so thick you could feel it on the air like a spectral presence. And it was all for you. He indeed thrilled you and also frightened you just a little, just enough for that rush of adrenaline to make you giddy. He certainly knew what he was doing, playing this little game of yours, or he had read your desires as clearly as a script and played his role to perfection. Sweat shone on his chest through the open vee in his shirt, a blush tinting his chest and neck. He looked voracious, driven mad by his desire. Jacques awakened the animal part of your brain that civilized society had tried for millennia to tame away, the part of you that wanted to be captured, taken, and utterly ravaged. Jacques was enjoying this even more, his huge chest heaving from the thrill of the hunt. You could see how it sparked a primal urge deep inside of him, probably even more poignant that it did in you. You could also see the evidence of his aching arousal tenting his pants. You were no better off. You had been melting inside all night, it seemed.

Backing away from him, you took a few deep breaths as you prepared to run again, unable to rein your pulse back down from a gallop. He registered your excitement and winked at you, enjoying your game. Laughing, you bounded away then skipped into a run that carried you further along the trail and deeper into the welcoming mystery of the woods.

The trail narrowed and became overgrown as the forest closed in around you. Deeper inside the forest, the woods grew wilder, much as the man chasing you was growing wilder with every pursuing step. You knew he was closing in on you swiftly. You slowed enough to look behind you. You were just in time to see Jacques lowering his massive body as he lunged at you with a growl. His shoulder connected with your waist as his strong arms gripped you, tackling you to the ground beneath him. He was careful with you. He’d never actually tackle you with his full force or risk hurting you. His arm hit the ground hard beneath you, cushioning your body when you met the cold wet snow. His heavy body covered you with enough weight to pin you but not quite enough to crush you.

Laying on your back beneath his sweaty body, your arms flew around him. One hand fisted harshly into his damp hair and one hand dug sharp nails into his muscular shoulder, earning a groan in response. Jacques crashed his lips down against yours in a hard, desperate kiss, his hot tongue twining with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. He kissed you hungrily, licking into your mouth and catching your lips between his teeth. He brought an enormous hand to your neck, again wrapping around your throat easily, squeezing just enough to make your pulse quicken and pound against his palm, adding to the effect of being captured.

“Do you like making me chase after you?” he asked into your mouth. “You must, since you’ve teased me for years. The torment was almost more than I could stand. Do you know how hard it was for me to resist taking what I know you wanted to give me?”

“I like being chased,” you whispered back. Feeling his weight press down upon you as you kissed, your legs fell open to invite him to settle between them. “But I like being caught by you even more.”

A low moan rumbled in his chest and he grinned against your mouth. The hand at your neck smoothed down to your breast, kneading you and making you gasp.

Moving his hand lower, Jacques’s fingers dipped inside your pants, inside your panties, discovering how hot and wet you were already. You were powerless to resist succumbing to him, your body not allowing you to maintain any coy pretenses. Jacques’s mouth moved down to your neck as he plunged two thick fingers into you, curling them firmly against that spot he knew could make you scream. His fingers worked you into a frenzy as his teeth and lips attended to your neck and throat. He began rutting against you, his cock digging into the back of his own hand, which was still making you writhe on his fingers. Even that light movement caused your body to shift on the ground. The snow beneath you had melted, the ground now soupy under your back.

“This is about to get messy if you want me to take you here, fuck you on the ground like an animal,” he said huskily, pulling back from your lips. “Do you want that? The beast from your fantasy? Or I can show you what I’ve always fantasized about doing to you instead. It’s much simpler, I’m afraid.” He kissed you again. “But you’ll like it.”

“You’ve already proven better than my fantasies,” you said, running your hands over the breadth of his back. “I trust your judgment.”

“Hold on,” he told you as he pulled his fingers from you. He collapsed on you and gripped you in a strong bear hug, but you barely had time to feel the heavy weight of him.

The ground fell away beneath you and you squeezed your eyes shut as your stomach swooped in that familiar way. Thunder boomed around you and the whole world seemed to shake from it. The cool air whisked away from you, replaced by a welcoming warmth. The snow and ice of the forest was replaced by the golden glow of a fire dancing inside a marble fireplace. The sky above you was replaced by an arched cathedral ceiling, and the ground beneath you exchanged for crisp sheets on a king bed. The only things that remained from the forest were the silver moonlight peeking in through the tall, arched windows, and Jacques above you, grinning down at you, the feeling of his powerful body covering you. He traced hot kisses down your throat and chest as he rose back off the bed to roughly shrug off his shirt and work his belt free.

The sight of him shirtless was breathtaking, you felt yourself growing wetter just from that sight alone. His chest was glorious. You had never seen a chest so thick and expansive. His shoulders were absurdly broad and made even more impressive by his fit abdomen. The taper of his waist, the lines of muscle along his hips, even the trail of hair descending from his navel, all worked in conjunction to practically drag your eyes down toward his cock. After pulling your shirt off, you centered yourself on the bed and arched your back seductively. Jacques reached for your pants and yanked them the rest of the way off, tossing them aside as he stood over you at the side of the bed. His eyes glistened like whiskey on ice as his gaze caressed your body.

“As many times as I’ve imagined you like this, you’re better,” he said reverently in a voice that was all smoke and gravel.

You watched the muscles in his arms flex as he undid his belt and pants. Without taking his eyes from you, he unceremoniously shoved his pants down, stepping out of them quickly. Towering above you, standing totally naked, he palmed his enormous erection and let you admire the sight of him, the cocky bastard, watching you with his molten gaze. You expected Jacques to have a nice cock, as big as he was everywhere else. You had imagined it embarrassingly often, but the sight of him still made your breath hitch. It was practically monstrous, and deliciously thick. He would have injured you as a schoolgirl, and you couldn’t be entirely certain he wouldn’t now. Another bit of danger he offered. There would be a limit to how rough he could be with you, and you were thankful that he was seasoned enough to know it.

“If you can’t handle me, tell me now.” Of course, he couldn’t resist teasing you.

In response, you held his eyes firmly as you reached to undo your bra, slinging it across the room to be lost with your other discarded clothing. You raised one eyebrow at him, meeting his challenge. Jacques walked to the edge of the bed, pausing briefly to absorb the sight of you as you lay spread before him, the best Christmas gift he had ever received, before he lowered himself to the mattress and crawled over your body.

Eagerly, your legs spread for him again and he settled between them. Jacques caged you in with his impressive arms on either side of your body as he bent over you, a predator over his prey, and kissed at your navel. His kisses were open mouthed and he lavished you with his tongue. He trailed his mouth down until he placed a wet kiss at the top of your pussy, still covered by the lace of your thong. Bringing a hand down to the thin line of fabric at your hip, he yanked it roughly, ripping your thong away from you and tearing it apart with one motion. His aggressive lust had you aching with the need to be filled. Jacques paused and just admired you, the way you glistened with desire. He lowered himself, wanting to kiss you there, taste you, make you cum on his tongue. But you stopped him.

“The first time you make me cum, I want it to be with your cock,” you told him huskily. “I want to feel you inside of me when I cum.”

Jacques grinned up at you before trailing his nose and lips slowly back up the center of your body as he crawled up into position above you. He paused to inhale deeply at your throat, taking in the scent of you and exhaling in a low heady groan. He kissed you passionately and deep. His taste was smokey and lush, making you shiver. His weight was resting on you now, pushing you down into the mattress. You could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders tense and flex under your hands as he moved, and his heavy chest pressed against yours, a sharp contrast to his soft lips. The unduly thick head of his cock nudged into you, teasing at your entrance. When you bucked your hips against him, he plunged into you in one fluid stroke. He rolled his hips against you gently, giving you time to adjust to his size. Your nails raked his back as a pornographic moan escaped your lips at the pleasure of being so completely full of him. Jacques’s mouth returned to diligently kiss you as the rolling of his hips became shallow thrusts. When your hips started moving to meet his own in time with his thrusts, he began thrusting into you more passionately.

Jacques propped himself up with his hands on either side of your head. Groaning again at an unabashed volume, he pulled back and slammed his entire length into you. It skirted the line of painful pleasure, but he felt so good. He saw your features rendered beautifully distraught by pleasure and kept that angle and rhythm that he knew was driving you in exactly the direction you wanted. You fluttered and tightened around him, your orgasm imminent. Jacques could feel it. Losing control himself, he fucked you harder, pistoning into you roughly. His whole body tensed when he felt the pulsing orgasm surge through you, shooting through him like a current of pleasure connected the two of you. Jacques’s thrusts grew erratic, his shoulders and arms quivered, and he came moments after you on a deep thrust. You reached to his thick, damp hair, tangling your fingers in it and pulling him down to settle over you. He looked down at you adoringly then kissed you lovingly. Though it was unspoken, the emotion was unmistakable.

After lavishing you slowly and indulgently, he rolled onto his back and pulled you down against his enormous chest. Wrapping the arm beneath you around your waist tightly, he held you in something between a cuddle and a bear hug and caressed you with his free hand. His huge body was hot beneath you, his arms radiating warmth around you, and his lips searing as they gently kissed along your hairline. The man was an absolute fever dream. He could keep you in an erotic stupor for hours if he wanted.

“Where are we?” you asked lazily, drunk on the rush he had given you.

“Normandy,” he purred, his hands gentle and warm on your skin. “My home, precisely speaking.”

“This looks like the inside of a castle,” you said of the bedroom with its stone walls and arched windows.

“You could call it that.” He smirked. “Regardless of the descriptor, it will accommodate us well until the start of term.” He brought his fingers under your chin, tipping your face up to look at him. “Provided you’ll accept my invitation to stay with me until then.”

“I’ll need a change of clothes,” you laughed.

“Not for what I have planned,” he laughed too, and rolled back over you again.

Briefly you wondered at the stir you would cause when the pair of you returned to Hogwarts in January. Together. Gossip spread through those enchanted halls like wildfire and you knew a professorial couple would be a source of it for a long time to come. You had no time to dwell on the thought now. Jacques demanded all of your attention elsewhere.

************************************************************************

Tagging some bewitching beauties 🖤

@babbushka @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @gabesprincess @maybe-your-left @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @heartlight-starlight @clydesfavoritegirl @celiholland @reveluving @reylokisses @queen-of-elves @kyloremus @looking4mymagicshop @lumberjack00fantasies

#my stuff!#my writing #hogwarts!jacques le gris #adam driver #jacques le gris x reader #Jacques le gris x you #halloween #winter #best #fic #werewolf

17 notes · View notes