content warning: awful writing, lots of dialogue, implied sebinis, slight dominis, spanking(?), only proofread once u have been warned, p*rn with barely any plot
It was almost pitiful the way your fleeting image was etched in his brain.
Most of what remained was a blur, but your hands, shoulders, and your eyes - gods your eyes.
He squeezed his own shut, hips losing rhythm and rutting carelessly against the pillow as he imagined them rolling towards the back of your head.
That was his favorite creation over the past week, the one that drove him the most wild. He’s always considered himself creative, having to mentally draw what he can gather from his remaining senses. He could officially add masochist to the list two nights ago, getting off to the idea of you casting a form Imperio on him, using him however your soul wished.
He pictured your eyes fluttering open below him, lower lid lined with salty tears as you begged him for anything and everything he could give you.
He would prop himself on his forearms to lean down close, using the tip of his tongue to collect the tears staining your skin. He wanted so desperately to know how you came undone. He’d gone through all the options, but his most recent one would have you clawing at his biceps, his pale fingers wrapped around your neck. He would be able to feel your rapid heartbeat against the pulse line of your neck, he thought. He’d take your scratching wrists in his other, keeping you still as he’d beg to fill you up, make you his little dove. If any one thing remained constant through his fantasies is where he would finish, pushed as far deep as he could go without hurting you.
He cried out as he came with a sudden and pathetic thrust, allowing the ecstasy and daydreams to finally drag him down to rest, sensitive cock still moving absentmindedly against the wet pillowcase as he drifted off.
When morning came, he’d shamelessly toss everything aside to wash later. He’d head to shower off the stench of sex, starting the cycle over again with a cry of your name muffled by water.
•
He hated you. Ominis Gaunt finally had the balls to cut you and Sebastian off after everything you put him through during your time at Hogwarts.
“I’m telling you,” Sebastian announced with a gulp, slamming the empty pint glass against the wooden bar. “He is okay, you’re overthinking it! He goes through these moods sometimes. Lyra probably just put too much work on his plate.”
You rubbed your temples, ignoring his wishful thinking, forcing him to relay you the information you could repeat verbatim by now. Still, it provided a temporary comfort from the guilt that was beginning to become suffocating. “And you are sure of that? How was his tone? His body language? Maybe you missed something. Did he really say he liked working at home better than the ministry’s office?”
“If you don’t believe me,” the freckled man grumbled, motioning to the bar keeper for a refill. “Go and check on him yourself.”
Yeah, right. With the way he clamored into the carriage, tossing enough galleons at the man for a ride across England and back, there was no way you thought he’d want to see you. It’s why you had sent Sebastian to check on him three times now.
He was right, though. Ominis did get in these moods sometimes, but he would never push away you of all people. If anything, you’ve proven to be an obliging confidant for him during these times.
“I did something wrong, Sebastian, I swear it,” you whined, staring at your untouched glass. “I can feel it in my being. He needs help.”
That’s how you ended up here.
Ominis’ thumb traced your bottom lip, a quick smile tugging up one side of his own. His hands were anything but graceful, swiping down rather than across, pulling your lip down with it. Ominis let out a shaky gasp as he pressed the pad of his finger against your tongue, reveling in the soft flesh and saliva.
“Omi..?,” you formed the question as best as you could, catching his wrist before he pulled away.
“I’m sorry.. I - I couldn’t help it.”
With a trembling hand, you guided his hand back towards your face and into your mouth, wrapping your lips around his thumb. Ominis grit his teeth, exhaling heavily through his nose.
“Little dove…” he whispered with warning, cupping your jaw as you pursed your cheeks, sucking at his finger. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.” His gruff voice sent shivers down your spine, placing a hand on his own, a gentle touch to assure him this was out of your own free will. He couldn’t believe it, mind hazing over, slipping back into the sweet embrace of lust he has been hiding in. Slowly, he began to swipe back and forth, fucking into your mouth with his thumb. His lips parted in a sweet sigh as he explored with his touch, growing more confident yet less lucid. He pushed down on the back of your tongue, forcing out an audible choke.
That was the final straw.
Ominis ripped away, gripping your waist to turn you around, his broad chest keeping you face first against the wall. It was cold, stray spit staining your cheeks. He leaned in close, keeping your wrists pinned behind your back. His voice was steady as if whatever just happened didn’t affect him.
“This is your last chance. Walk away now and we can forget this ever happened. I’ll return to work and we’ll continue to be friends,” he said. “But I pray you don’t. I beg of you to stay instead… give into me.” He loosened his grip on your wrists. “Please,” he added last with a whisper. “Don’t resist me.”
“Take me, Ominis.”
His hands moved frantically, grabbing at your throat and waist, pulling you into his chest. He walked you both backwards towards the couch, like a predator dragging home its prey, teeth nipping and tongue licking over the skin on your neck as he sat you in his lap. His knees pried yours apart, quite literally manhandling you above him.
“Omi-“ you squeaked as he worked, nails sharp and claiming under your skirt and over your inner thighs.
“Didn’t they ever teach you not to wake the beast?” He whispered in your ear with a chastising laugh. “You’ve kept me up all week with such a simple touch, don’t expect me to go easy on you.”
A hand made it’s way into your hair, tugging your head back and exposing your throat to the possessive man behind you. Ominis smiled against your skin as your hips twitched, seeking out his touch again.
“Look at you..,” his warm breath brought you goosebumps. “Tell me, how many times have you thought about being touched like this?” His fingers slithered their way up to your warmth, tracing over the scalloped sewn edges of your underwear. He was too close and not close enough at the same time, making you feel like you were drowning.
“Always— always you, Ominis,” you swallowed heavily. “Ever since fifth year— you’ve driven me crazy.”
The viper let out a soft growl, grip on your hair tightening.
“How many times did your pretty hands misbehave? How often did your pretty lips bespoke my name?” His fingers danced under the fabric’s waistband, swiping up to collect the wetness. A gasp left your lips, and before you could answer, he raised them up to your mouth, an offering you gladly accepted.
“Oh, little dove,” Ominis hummed sympathetically, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’m going to absolutely ruin you.” His palm came down with a sharp slap against the fabric in between your thighs making you cry out, your body fighting against the decision to move away or arch into his touch, ultimately choosing the latter. Your head thrashed against to the side, pressing your cheek into his bicep.
“Again,” you whimpered quietly. He complied without hesitation, swatting his hand down once, twice, three times more before your legs instinctively broke away from his grip, closing them tight around his hand. He soothed the skin, rubbing gently as he cooed praises behind you.
“Doing such as good job for me, love. So perfect— my perfect dove.” He kept it up until you rolled your hips against his palm, babbling and whimpering for more.
“C’mhere,” Ominis commanded, helping you turn around in his lap. “Kiss me.”
It was messy and heated, full of deep rooted confessions that should have been said years ago. His lips made your skin blaze, sinking into him more and more as he claimed you whole.
He panted, fumbling in between your bodies to unzip his slacks, sliding them down enough to free his hips. Before he could grasp at his cock, throbbing for any amount of relief, you grabbed his wrist, balancing yourself with your spare hand against his shoulder.
“May I?” You whispered, moving his wrist away and wrapping your hand around is already leaking length.
“Merlin—“ he cried out, voice cracked and whiny, nothing compared to the domineering façade he placated moments ago. You smiled, reveling in the effect you and you alone had on him. “If only you knew-“ he panted, hips moving up with a needy thrust, feeding himself through your hand that refused to move. “How much this exact moment has plagued my mind for the past six years…. Gods your touch is addicting but I can’t— I need— fuck” Ominis swat your hand away, pushing your thighs apart where you sat on his lap.
“I have to be inside you before I go insane.”
You pleaded your agreements, flipping your skirt up and your soaked bloomers aside, guiding him inside. Holding him at the base, you slid on easy, help of what was essentially years of teasing.
“Dove—“ Ominis gasped, reaching out to wrap his arms around you, fully encapsulating your body. He brought you close to his chest, tucking away his face into your neck.
With his hot breath against your skin, teeth out and grazing, you thought you’d be done right there. It was heaven - purely euphoric as you pulled yourself up on your knees, giving you a better angle and a better view.
His mouth was agape, eyebrows furrowed, that damn vein straining in his neck, the stretch of his cock… gods the stretch, causing your walls to flutter as you experimentally rose up, the tip flaring against your entrance like it refused to leave you. Your chests rise and fell against one another so insych you swore your breathing became one.
It couldn’t get better than this, you thought wrong, mewling out as you felt Ominis’ finger exploring where you two connected. He moaned as you took him — “there you go, doing such a good job for me” - cursing himself for not having his wand at the ready. He wanted - no, needed - to see how you took him inside.
“Ominis,” you panted, cupping his cheek to pull him in for a messy kiss. “Just focus on the - ah - the feeling, I can help show you n-next time.”
“Next time?” he said with a smirk, hiding the excited heat blooming in his chest.
“If you think I’m letting you go now, you’re blinder than I thought you were.”
He laughed, hands growing antsy at the thought of doing this over.. and over.. and over again.
“If that’s the case,” he grunted, hands clasping ontop eachother at your lower back. “Hold on, gorgeous.” He pushed gently, causing you to arch forward into him, hips shifting backwards. The new angle had you mewling, blabbering nonsense that Ominis took pride in creating. You gripped at the couches’ back, digging your nails in the velvet as he found his focus - an arm wrapped around hip to keep you still, spare hand on the couch for balance, hips snapping against yours like it was his only hope at surviving.
Profanities you have never heard of before spilled from his lips, joining possessive phrases - “mine, all fucking mine” - and sickly sweet praises - “good little dove, you can take it cant you?”
Ominis drove himself wild, focusing on the slick, lewd sounds that sung where you both connected, your heavy breathing and cries of pleasure as he fucked you. This was better than anything he could ever imagine. No pleasure his hand could bring would ever amount to this, he thought, heart racing wild. He need not require sight. Ominis would happily stay here forever, basking in your glory. He’d never let you go, no, not unless you explicitly banished him. He had tasted heaven and god there was no way he was coming down.
Your walls tightening around him, spasming with desperate rolls of your hips had him joining you over the edge, teeth sinking into your neck as he filled you in some sort of sick claim of ownership. Not that you minded, blunt nails leaving their own marks against the pale and sweaty skin of his back.
The creaking of the door yanked you both from post-coitus bliss. Ominis only had time to adjust your skirt, flipping it down to hide where his cock still twitched inside you.
“Ominis, did— Aw man, where was the invite?”
“Sebastian,” the blonde boy below you flushed pink. “Please go.”
The freckled one walked away unfazed in the doorway, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. Ominis pressed a kiss to your blushing forehead, smoothing your hair back. “Don’t worry dove, you were a better lay than he’ll ever be.”
hi im not sure if u alrdy know this so sry to bother u if u do but i wanted to let u know that one of ur tumblr posts is used in my philosophy textbook ?? Lmaoo
my favorite scene in LotR as a kid was when Sam started miserably freestyling in the tower of Cirith Ungol and the only reason he ever found Frodo was because he deliriously tried to join in
…i did read some of the novels, but i couldn’t get through them entirely…
…and so i genuinely have no idea whether or not this is serious. coz i mean, obviously, it could be a joke. but it could also have legitimately happened. people who have only seen the films underestimate the amount of random things that happen in the books that could come off as utterly silly and ridiculous if removed from their context.
Haha, well, it is pretty much what happens. Sam is looking for Frodo in the tower of Cirith Ungol and is despairing that he will ever find him. He sits down and does what any self-respecting Tolkien character does during their moments of hopelessness and bursts into song.
It’s a really good song (ten year old Ship had it memorized) and as he begins the refrain a second time, he hears Frodo’s voice answering weakly from above. Frodo is poisoned and despairing and beaten but he is still a Hobbit and cannot resist a singalong even while on the brink of death.
There's this local family owned restaurant near me that makes the best fucking chicken tenders I've had in my life and I desperately need to know the recipe in case I move away but its a secret family recipe and I'm this 👌🏽 close to asking if they have a single adult son so I can marry in to the family just for these fucking chicken tenders. Anyway there's a possible fake marriage fanfic plot for you
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