Ominis being the gentle, composed, soft-spoken dad during the day… but turning into a bold, teasing, dominant lover at night… Just thinking about it makes me go absolutely insane...🥵🥵🥵
I know Sebastian technically doesn't kill for MC in this scene but you get the idea, the dude need to calm down. Besides that, I think the quote fits all too well with our favorites from HL!
we went to bed at 6pm last night and whenever i woke up my brain would try to slowly reconstruct the phrasing and imagery of McDonald's Honey Bustard Pickled Sea fuck meal and as soon as id get it right i would fall back asleep happened about a dozen times
You are a death looper. You have faced the same apocalypse a thousand times until you finally defeat the big bad. Now, years later, aged and on your deathbed, you have an epiphany.
"I got your coffee, boss. Sorry about the wait, the cafe was packed," the henchman said as they entered the room, only to pause as they saw the heroes standing over the bloodied corpses of their boss and their co-workers.
Unedited. I've stared at this for way too long. Hope you enjoy xo mdni xo wc: 2151
The library this late at night is nothing more than a cathedral of lonely shadows and hushed but twisted murmurs. The towering bookshelves stretch high up into the ceilings darkness like silent sentinels guarding forgotten secrets and lost causes. There’s a faint glow of the lamp you’re working beneath which dances with a mockery across the worn wooden desk you find yourself seated at – an array of strewn parchments and opened textbooks sprawled around you like some kind of chaotic halo. Mattheo lounges in the seat beside yours; his tie loosely hanging around his neck, top few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned just enough to taunt you by revealing a sliver of tanned skin you’ve spent far too long being distracted by. He’s only here because he promised he’d help out a little more with the group assignment you’ve got due to potions tomorrow, but his quill hasn’t touched parchment in close to almost twenty minutes. Instead, his eyes – tainted with that signature Riddle family mischief – keep finding their way to yours, lingering a little too long – promising you things that you shouldn’t want, but are tempted toward.
“Your boyfriends late again…”, Mattheo manages out with a drawl, voice as smooth as velvet, knowing that Tom, like clockwork visits you at the same time every night when on prefect patrol. He leans forward lazily, resting his elbows on the desk and shuffles across slightly to close the distance between you both. His knee nudges yours beneath the desk; the deliberate press sending a shiver that courses down your spine almost unwilfully. “You know, that leaves the two of us alone for a little while longer. Kind of dangerous, don’t you think? You and I.”
His lips quirk almost menacingly into a smirk, the move slow and pestering. He twirls the quill he’s been playing with between his fingers like a toy; forcing himself to become a distraction. One that you really, don’t fucking need. You swallow harshly at his words; an unexpected heat creeping up the side of your neck as a scarlet blush as you try as hard as you can to focus on the scribbled notes you’ve got directly laying in front of you.
“We’re just here to study Mattheo.” You attempt to remind him. Like every other night. “Nothing more. Nothing else.”
The words slip off your tongue almost a little too easily and far, far too rehearsed. Mattheo’s gaze drops from trying to catch your own to your lips, taking them in for a moment and then lower; tracing down your neck to the way your shirt clings to your shoulders, chest, curves; almost making you feel stripped bare under the look alone.
“Mhmm… studying.” He’s quick to echo your response, his voice mocking and his tone dripping with an undeniable flirtation over the last few years you’ve become well accustomed to. “Is that what we’re calling it are we? Studying? Even when those pretty little thighs of yours keep inching apart under the desk in a display of how much you want me?”
Mattheo’s hand is quick to drop the quill he’s been twirling, moving bold and unhurried with a soft slide up your leg without warning. You should stop him – you really should… your boyfriends name like a siren going off inside your mind but your breath ends up catching in the back of your throat and your legs just seem to part oh that tiny fraction more giving him a silent, reckless, unspoken kind of yes. Sinful permission at its finest. The grin he’s wearing turns almost wicked; victorious, as his fingers begin to trail higher – sliding beneath the hem of your skirt to dance along the edge of your underwear before grazing effortlessly across the dampened fabric concealed between your thighs. He lets out a groan that burns across your skin.
“Damn baby girl… you’re already soaking, and I’ve barely had to fucking touch you.”
Pushing aside the fabric, his fingers begin to tease your folds with the lightest of playful strokes, causing your head to tilt back, eyes close, a soft gasp escaping past your lips before you’re able to stop it from sounding. Just as you’re about to poke your tongue out lick your lips moist; Mattheo’s other hand reaches over to clamp shut over your mouth. The move both warm and firm; muffling all of the sounds you make as his fingers slip inside you both delicately and deliberate. Curling up surprisingly just the way you like it.
“Shh, be quiet yeah..”, he murmurs into your ear with a snicker.. “We wouldn’t want the portraits to start gossiping now, would we? Wouldn’t want them telling Tom just how much you like the feel of my fingers mhmm?”
The pace set by his fingers quickens; thumb lazily circling your clit with a riling precision that causes your hips to buck up and against his palm; chasing the ecstasy that’s begun to pool deep within the pit of your stomach. The slick, wet sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt filling the air with a filthy and intoxicating resonance causing you to become lost in the moment – lost in him; all until the atmosphere suddenly shifts and changes noticeably.
It’s a chill which slices through the libraries ambiance both sharp and indisputably electric. With his fingers still buried deep within you; both you and Mattheo look up to see his brother standing at the end of an aisle like a statue carved from shadows and bubbling fury. Tom’s presence is heavy and oppressive; like a raging storm in the middle of summer. His eyes flicker between the two of you with a cold, calculating and sinister edge. An obvious tension between the two brothers begins to crackle – an unspoken rivalry etched out of blood and bone that forces your mouth to instantly dry up. Mattheo doesn’t flinch however as much as you expected him to. He doesn’t pull his fingers out or away immediately either. Instead, with an agonising slow pace; he drags his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean as his gaze locks in on Tom’s. Relishing the taste of you with an ever-provocative smirk.
“Guess you caught us in the middle of studying huh?” His voice laced with an insolence. “She’s a quick study your girlfriend… wanna see what I taught her?”
Tom’s jaw visibly tightens. You notice a muscle twitching in his cheek that extends down his neck. He doesn’t fall for Mattheo’s bait. Oh no; he knows better. And you… fuck, just off his look – you’re in for it.
“Leave..” Tom’s voice is low, heavy – deadly. “Now.”
The words are aimed at Mattheo but end up carving you up completely. Mattheo lingers for a moment, his eyes etching over you one last time with a promise of more, a promise of trouble to come at a later date before he stands and walks away with a chuckle; brushing past Tom with a forced knock into his shoulder that just screams defiance and deviance. The air now trapped around you hums with a silent war between both brothers which dissolves slowly into the stacks of books towered around you for just a moment; leaving you alone, leaving you isolated; with none other than the tempest of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Fuck.
Tom’s movements are like that of a predator – slow and intentional. Each step is silent against the stone floors and yet you somehow ear them pounding in your ears. He stops just before you; towering over where you sit, where you’re still trembling from Mattheo’s touch and before you know it his hands cup your face almost tenderly; tilting your chin up as his thumb bushes across your bottom lip smearing off the faintest trace of Mattheo’s grip into nonexistence. His eyes – those gorgeous dark eyes you fell in love with once long ago now burn deep into yours; stripping every thought from you bare.
“Him..”, Tom begins, “You let – him – of all people, touch you? My baby brother, with my precious little doll – toying with her like some cheap, disposable toy.” His grasp at your jaw tightens; not uncomfortably yet unyielding. Your pulse races like a thoroughbred beneath his touch. Fearful and yet exhilarating. “You think I wouldn’t find out about this sweetheart? Wouldn’t sense it? Wouldn’t feel it?”
“B-but, I.. I – I..”, you stutter as you try to explain yourself. Make excuses for yourself. It’s pointless though – not now, not ever. He releases his grip off your jaw to grab at your wrists instead – yanking you up onto your feet off the seat you’ve been a little too comfortable in. Your breath hitches anxiously. The desk screeches as Tom spins you roughly, forcing you to bend forward until your chest is pressed into the scatter of books and parchments you were studying over; your hips now hard-pressed against the wooden edge. His fingers knot into your hair; tugging your head back just enough to hurt as you feel the heat of Tom behind you. Unwavering.
“You.. my doll... need to remember just who it is you belong to.”
He’s quick to lift and bunch your skirt up around your waist; your underwear torn down your thighs with one vicious yank. The cool air around hits your skin, causing goosebumps to prickle across it but they are nothing compared to the heat and fire of his touch as Tom presses himself against you. The hardened bulge you feel as his, unmistakable. Hearing the familiar clink of his belt followed by the ruffle of fabric it isn’t long until his cock is there – hard, hot and thick; nudging against your folds, teasing your entrance with the barest of pleasures and pressure. You get spanked only once; the sting sharp and loud as it vibrates through the library causing you to whimper and grit your teeth together. It causes you to arch your back into him; just how he likes it.
“Who do you belong to? Quickly now doll; answer the fucking question.”
Tom never curses. Salazar… you’re in trouble.
“Y-..you.”
The words come out with a gasp as you’re rewarded – or perhaps punished with a single deep thrust plunging into you raw and relentless, filling you completely. The stretch burns but is fucking exquisite. Almost overwhelming. It forces you to cry out as your hands scramble across the table to try and steady yourself; knocking books, quills and inkbottles franticly onto the floor. Tom doesn’t ease up; fingers tugging at your hair again as runs a hand down the back of your neck and between your shoulders – forcing you further down against the desk as he continues at a pace that is nothing short of brutal and callous. The desk legs creak beneath the onslaught of thrusts; each snap of his hips driving you further forward, the edge of the desk digging harshly against your hips, cutting into the delicate skin. One of his hands slide around the top of your thigh, finding your swollen clit and rubbing it tight in punishing circles that cause your vision to blur. His fingers, more meticulous than that of his brother.
“Say it louder sweetheart.”
“..y-y-you..”
“Louder.”
“Y-you..”
His demands are complimented with another spank; the sound echoing off the bookshelves like a symphony.
“Let that little shit hear you wherever the fuck he’s lurking. You belong to me. No-one else.”
“T-T-Tom…”
Your body tightens around him as the pleasure continues to coil; red-hot and nearly unbearable. Tom groans, low and primal, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release, forgetting about you momentarily, or perhaps purposely. His fingers dig into your hips, bruising in such a way you know they’ll be purple by morningand when you finally shatter, you scream his name like a curse and shudder beneath him against the desk—he follows soon enough, spilling inside you with a gruff sound that’s made up of pure fucking possession.
Tom stays there a moment; still. He’s panting roughly;chest pressed to your back before pulling out and adjusting your uniform back to how it should be with a cold, diligent touch. You’re a trembling mess, parchment sticking to your sweaty skin, a quill sewn into your shirt, and Tom straightens without a word, still looming over you.
“Next time,” he states, his voice a dark promise as he leans down, lips grazing your ear with a nip, “I’ll take you right in front of him. Let Mattheo watch me fuck what’s mine until he chokes on it.”
Almost calculative, Tom steps back, leaving you sprawled across the desk, the scent of sex and spilled ink thick in the air and now tainted across your body. Your breathing is ragged. A new tension between him and Mattheo now lingers like a storm on the horizon, even with them apart, and you know that this game isn’t over between them. Not by a fucking long shot.
In a last ditch attempt to save your people, you offer your life to an ancient god of war and blood. Unfortunately, your translation of the ancient text was a bit off. You're married now.
A Lich Lord covered his head with rags and disguised himself as a cleric, then joined the heroes' party. His reasoning? He was bored and wanted to see the world without instilling fear.
You’re a knight with a small pet dragon you raised from birth. They can translate what other dragons say. Instead of slaying another dragon for the princess, you attempt to settle this diplomatically.
In the animal kingdom, humans are viewed like witches/warlocks: they MIGHT help you benevolently in your time of need, or they might eat you alive, or they might save you but keep you forever. So you know just how serious things are when they say to you,
"Go get a human."
As the queen falls into a coma during childbirth, she asks the prince consort to entrust her son to her aunt. He defies her, leaving the heir with his cruel cousin. Raised in abuse & unaware of a birthright, one night the child flees the kingdom. Years later, the queen awakes. "Where's my son?"
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