#ao3 HL

[sango691-fan-hl]

Fanfiction HL : The Lost Dragons

EN: Hello everyone! I'm finally publishing my Hogwart Legacy fanfiction! This is the first fanfiction I've written, so sorry for any mistakes or poor writing. Summy: Professor Fig didn't return to Hogwarts with just one new pupil in fifth year, but two! A boy and a girl. The Drake siblings are returning to one of the greatest schools of magic, but will they be able to cope with the Goblin Rebellion, ancient magic and the many adventures that await them? Friendships and love will be intertwined in the adventures of our two young wizards. Nolan and Helena come from a very ancient family of wizards capable of taming dragons, but for many centuries the House of Dragon has lived apart from magical society for various reasons. But the family oracle decided that the two young Drakes should go to Hogwarts to finally discover the magical world and to face the destiny that awaited them. Discover the magical secrets that the dragon family has been hiding for centuries.

Chapters : Chapter 1 : The return of the dragons [ Ao3 Fanfic.Net ] Chapter 2 : The new snake roommate [ Ao3 Fanfic.Net ] Chapter 3 : The start of lessons [ Ao3 Fanfic.Net ] Chapter 4 : The famous underground club [ Ao3 Fanfic.net ] Chapter 5 : On the road to Hogsmeade [ Ao3 Fanfic.net ] Chapter 6 : Purchases and Wands [ Ao3 Fanfic.net ] Chapter 7 : The troll attack [Ao3 Fanfic.net ] Chapter 8 : The library [ Trad: 0% Publication: 04/10/24 ] ______________ FR: Hello tout le monde ! Je publie enfin ma fanfiction de Hogwart Legacy ! C'est ma première fanfiction que j'écris donc navré pour les fautes ou la mauvaise qualité écriture. Résumé : Le professeur Fig n’est pas rentré à Poudlard avec un seul nouvel élève en cinquième année mais deux?! Un garçon et une fille. La fratrie Drake font leur rentrée dans l’une des plus grandes école de magie mais pourrons-t-ils faire face à la révolte gobeline,à l’ancienne magie et aux nombreuses péripéties qui les attendent? Des amitiés et des amours seront mêlés à l’aventure de nos deux jeunes sorciers. Nolan et Helena sont issus d’une très ancienne famille de sorcier capable de dompter les dragons mais depuis de nombreux siècles, la maison des dragon a vécu à l’écart de la société magique pour diverses raisons. Mais l’oracle de la famille a jugé que les deux jeunes Drake devaient se rendre à Poudlard afin de découvrir enfin le monde magique mais aussi de faire face à un destin qui attendait leur venue. Aussi, découvrez des secrets magiques que la famille des dragons cache depuis des siècles.  Chapitres : Chapitre 1 : Le retour des dragons Chapitre 2 : Le nouveau colocataire chez les serpents Chapitre 3 : Le début des cours Chapitre 4 : Le fameux club clandestin Chapitre 5 : En chemin à Pré-au-Lard Chapitre 6 : Chapitre 06 : Achats et Baguettes Chapitre 7 : L'attaque du troll Chapitre 8 : La bibliothèque Part 1 [Ecrit: 20% Correction: 0% Publication : Sort le 04/10/24 ]

[orqheuss]

I would know him blind

(Ominis Gaunt/F!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

He groaned again at the feeling of your pulse pounding under his fingertips, his voice gravelly and coated with arousal when he finally spoke. “What are you up to now, trouble?” *** You'd been with Ominis for some time, and as much as you loved your intimate times together, you wondered what it would be like to be in his shoes for a change. Your darling husband is more than happy to help you satiate your curiosity.

Word count: 4.6k

Tags: p n v sex, bondage, blindfolds, light bdsm, light dom/sub undertones, pet names, praise kink, ownership kink, corruption kink (just a lil bit), possessive!ominis, cunnilingus, established relationship, body worship, romantic sex

You loved your husband more than anything in this world. You had been with Ominis since your sixth year of Hogwarts, and even now, ten years later, you were still as thick as thieves. He supported your desire to teach at the school, even though you would be gone for days at a time and away from his comforting arms, and in turn you supported him and his work as an inventor, no matter how much time he spent locked away in his office. Through it all, you were a team. It was a truly happy marriage, one you would be perfectly content in until your dying day. 

That being said, there were some aspects of your life that had gotten a bit…stale. Being together for so long led to some challenges with keeping things interesting. In this particular instance, your more intimate times were starting to become lackluster. It was still lovely whenever you two got together, but you longed for your husband to do something surprising. Ever since your first night together it had been the same routine, and you were, quite frankly, bored. 

Not that you’d ever tell him that. Godrick’s heart! 

Being a professor had its perks, one of which being access to the restricted section of the library at any hour of the day. No student is going to question a professor as to why they are out at such an hour, it would be absolutely balmy. Not that you didn’t miss the chaos of sneaking down there with one particular Sallow twin, but it was certainly nice to not fear the appearance of Peeves around any and all corners. On the nights that you slept at the castle, you’d been reading up on some things in the restricted section, and had learned some interesting changes to try in the bedroom that would hopefully intrigue the blond. Rather shockingly, the “Intimate Literature” section was…extensive. There were things in some of those books that you would have never thought of, even in your most raunchy dreams. 

One particular thing caught your attention, both for the possibilities it held but also for the fact that it had been something you thought about before: seeing in the way that Ominis sees. The Gaunt man’s blindness was never a hindrance to him, nor to you, but it definitely intrigued you. Around the house, he mainly saw through his enchanted wand, the location charm showing him shapes and outlines so he is able to get to and fro. But in the bedroom, Ominis preferred to use his hands, and sometimes his mouth, to find his way up and down your body. His favorite pastime was finding out what made you tick, what made you whine, what made you scream— always the tinkerer, always curious. 

As much as you loved him touching you, you wanted to know what it felt like when you touched him; no sight to help him know from what direction you were coming from or what you were going to do to him. One simple finger running down his chest would send his heart aflutter under your palm— your legs brushing against his would make him breathe heavy like you had taken all the air from his lungs. He once described it to you as feeling everything the earth could possibly give you but so much more. It looked electric, and Merlin, you wanted to be shocked all over. 

So, the only logical way for this to happen was for you to be blindfolded. 

All you had to do was convince your husband, and you knew exactly how to do it. 

The always busy blond was locked away in his office when you enacted your plan. You knocked gently on the door, waiting patiently for his word to enter. Upon his muffled, “come in” sauntered into the room, your steps precise and your hips swaying like a dancer. He sensed something different in your posture right away, his ears perking up slightly as he took in the soft cadence of your steps. Leaning back in his office chair and silently activating his location charm, he watched you stalk closer to his desk like a lioness on the prowl. You were the picture of innocence— a slight hop in your step and your arms folded behind your back like a schoolgirl, and in that moment Ominis wanted nothing more than to pin you over his lap and corrupt you for hours. A wayward smirk stretched across his face as he twirled his wand between his fingers, his free hand coming up from his arm rest when you got close enough and running across the skin of your thigh. The blond’s eyebrow twitched slightly at the feeling of the lace trim of your negligee, and his fingers tightened against your pillowy flesh, pushing the skirt upwards with intrigue until your hand stopped him in his tracks. You smirked deviously at the success of your plan so far before climbing into his lap, pressing all of your weight down on his already half-stiff member so he could feel just how hot and needy you were for him. 

Ominis groaned lightly at the sudden warmth atop his hardening cock, his hands coming up to grasp at your hips and rock you slightly for that delicious friction he craved. Your breath stuttered in your chest at your bare, sensitive skin rubbing against the unforgiving roughness of his corduroy trousers and you quickly lost yourself in the moment. One of your hands made its way into his blond tresses, mussing up his perfectly styled quiff and pulling him closer for a searing kiss. He eagerly responded to your whims, surrendering under your burning lips and digging his fingertips into the silk that draped across your body. His left hand began exploring as you kissed, roaming up from the love handles at your hips and towards your neck, pausing briefly to paw at your breast and finding nothing underneath your new nightdress. He bit your lip roughly, pulling you back by your neck and greedily sucking in the oxygen that he forgoed to continue snogging you. 

Even after years, his kisses still tasted like ambrosia to a mortal. 

He groaned again at the feeling of your pulse pounding under his fingertips, his voice gravelly and coated with arousal when he finally spoke. “What are you up to now, trouble?” 

You giggled lightly, a lilt of mischievousness hiding behind the sound of pseudo virtue that made Ominis’ heart skip in excitement. You pushed gently against his hand, signaling that you wanted to whisper your desires in his ear, and he pulled you towards his face again, loosening his grip enough for it to be just the right amount of malleable. Your hot breath fanned across the apples of his cheeks, sending a spark of desire down his spine. A part of him wanted to disregard whatever you wanted to tell him, wanted to throw you onto his desk and have his way with you. But, there was a stronger, more curious part of him that also wanted to know what you had in store. 

You bit lightly at his earlobe, licking away the pain before murmuring against his pulse. “I want to try something new tonight, if it’s alright with you, darling.” 

He growled at your fingernails wracking up and down his clothed arms, the bone just sharp enough to be felt but not enough to leave marks. He pulled your face back, staring into your eyes with an unnerving amount of contact that one with his disability would normally not be able to achieve. There was something tantalizing swirling in his irises, something dangerous, something devious, and you had to steel yourself to continue with your scheme and not drop to your knees and pleasure him then and there. His smile was lopsided and delicious looking when he replied. 

“What do you have in mind, little dove?” He traced his finger up the outside of your thigh once more, running the pad of his thumb against the coarse lace. “What devilish thing is swirling in that gorgeous brain of yours?” 

You let go of his arms, trusting Ominis to hold you still while you reached into your hair and undid the ribbon holding it up. The black silken cloth caught on the low lamplight of the office space and swallowed the glow like a deep pit of tar. Your hand was delicate as you grasped onto his wrist, lifting his hand from your thigh and raising it level with your chest, palm up towards the ceiling. You first ran the ribbon lightly along his hand, letting the ends tickle his skin just enough to catch his fancy before carefully laying it in his palm. His other hand released your throat finally, taking the other end of the ribbon between his fingers and pulling it until it was completely unraveled between your buzzing bodies. It was smooth in his palm, sensual, one would even say. He approximated that it was around the length of his arm, possibly the width of your wrist. 

A look of confusion quickly took over the blond’s features, and you chuckled softly at how adorable he looked. You took the silk from him, leaning forward just enough to gently drape it over his unseeing eyes and whisper against his parted lips. 

“I want to feel what you feel when I touch you.” 

He gasped against your mouth, his arm snaking around your hip and pressing against your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer until your ravenous core was flush with his throbbing manhood. Ominis’ smile was all teeth when you pulled back again, the ribbon dragging against his skin in the most delectable way as you gazed into his eyes. 

“Oh, you do, now?” He mused cheekily. “You want to know how I feel when you touch me?” 

He took the silk from your hands, letting it run over your exposed collarbones. There was something impish in his smile, like a wolf in sheep's clothing— the cheshire cat would be jealous of its verisimilitude. He was always mischievous in nature while at school, but he had never really brought it under the sheets with you. Perhaps your proposition excited him in a way unfamiliar, you mused. Gently moving it over the backs of your shoulders, he looped it around the front and draped it across your chest like a loose fitting scarf. It was your turn to be perplexed when his hands began to wind around the ends of the satin ribbon, the question only being answered after a maddening pause. Using the silk for leverage, Ominis yanked you closer until your chests were pressed together, noses brushing and mouths inches from touching. 

“You want to know how it feels to be blind— completely under the whim of your partner? You want to put your faith entirely in my hands, not knowing what I could possibly do to you next?” His voice lowered with arousal, taking on a gravely, almost growl-like cadence. “You want to surrender yourself to me?” 

You sucked in a shaking breath at his insinuation, nodding minutely as your eyes fluttered closed. You were far past coherent sentences at that point. His mouth only inched closer with each word. 

“Oh, my darling girl, your wish is my command.” 

He stole your breath with his kiss, his skin feeling like pure sunlight under your fingertips. He stood from his seat with you in his arms, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he made his way towards your bedroom via the route he memorized long ago. 

Your comforter is plush when you land, cushioning you as Ominis rests his body above yours. You pull him downwards by his collar, your hands only getting a small moment in his hair before he has you by the wrists, one of his hands roughly planting them above your head while the other explored your curves. Only a minute in his domain and you were already his prey. The blond leaned forwards slightly, his back arching so he could reach your supple, sensitive throat, before nipping and sucking at the webbing between your shoulder and neck. You keened softly, rolling your hips upwards to meet his gentle hip trusts. He let go of your wrists, trusting you to keep them there as he carded his hands down your sides, only stopping when he got to the teasing lace of your negligee’s trim. More and more kisses were pressed to the column of your throat as he smoothed the fabric up your body, revealing your bare, naked body underneath to the world. He groaned at the feeling of your baby-soft skin under his fingertips. 

“Nothing underneath? Such a good girl for me.” 

You felt Ominis reach into his back pocket for his wand, slowly bringing it forwards and above your heads. The point just barely touched the skin of your wrist when he lazily whispered the binding spell. 

“Incarcerous.” 

Cotton rope the color of the forest at night wrapped itself around your conjoined wrists, tightening just the right amount so that you couldn’t move but you weren’t in pain before winding around a bar on your headboard. A startled gasp fell from your lips at your sudden capture, your eyes filling with excitement and a little bit of fear at the predatory grin stretching across your husband's face. His hands trailed up your sides again, sending delightful shivers through all of your nerve endings on his journey to your eyes. His fingers paused at the tips of your ears, the ribbon brushing against where your hair was fanned across the bedspread. 

Ominis smoothed his thumb across your cheekbone, softening his smile as he leaned down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. His voice was little more than a breathy whisper against your eyelashes. “Are you sure about this, my love?” 

You smiled at his care for you, pressing a soft kiss to the closest bit of skin you could reach before answering him, your voice flooded with love. “Yes, my dear. I want you to do whatever you want to me. Make me feel like you do.” 

He groaned at  your words, taking your consent to wrap the ribbon around your head, tying it in a simple knot at the back. The last thing you saw were his starlight-filled eyes before your world was bathed in darkness. 

You were incredibly aware of your level of undress when Ominis moved his body away from yours, opening up your skin to the chill of the room without his body heat. You squirmed against the rope slightly, testing its strength before trying to train your ears to hear your husband moving around the room. Everything was eerily quiet— not even the sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway could be heard beyond the closed door. For a moment you feared the blond left you in the room, leaving you tied up against the bed so he could work in peace. Your heart began to pound harder in your chest with nerves. 

All fear quickly fled from your body at the feeling of his fingertips running up the skin of your stomach, drawing a long gasp from your chest. It felt like his hand was touching every nerve in your body, igniting your veins in sinful fire as he crept up and up towards your heaving breasts. He started off slow, just moving his fingers up and down different parts of your body with just the barest touch until you were begging for more. This type of teasing was torturous for you, only just aware of where he was but never knowing if he was going to give you what you wanted. 

You whined in the back of your throat, body vibrating with need as he grazed against your chest for a fifth time. “Please, Ominis!” 

You were sure your heart would give out when his other hand wrapped itself around your left mound, squeezing the skin between his fingers before taking the right nub between his teeth and nipping. Ominis chuckled at the whine that spilled from your throat, his voice reverberating through your sternum and sending a lovely heat to your center. He let the rest of his weight fall on top of you, relishing in you feeling every bit of skin he had uncovered in your small moment of silence. He was completely bare for you, his hardness pressing against your thigh and pulsating with a delicious heat. You could feel him everywhere. His fingers brushed against the very fabric of your being, pulling you apart by your strings. His breath curled around your lungs, stealing the air frantically inhaled through your squeezing throat. His mouth licked at your brain, sending pulses of pleasure down to your core. You were in utter bliss under his careful, loving hands. 

He laughed again at how pliable you were under him, murmuring against your stiff peak. “Where do you feel me right now, pet?” 

You sighed shakily as his voice shot through you like a bullet. “Everywhere. I feel you absolutely everywhere.” 

The blond took your nipple between his teeth again, flicking it with his tongue until your reacting whimper pittered off into the air. “That’s how I feel whenever I’m around you.” 

Ominis began to kiss down your chest, pausing to mouth hotly at your hip bones and leave open mouthed kisses on your naval. “Your mere presence shifts the air around me— changes the trajectory of time itself in my mind. The world slows when you touch me, my darling. My name falling from your lips feels like one thousand tiny suns kissing my cheeks in devotion.” 

He mumbled your name against your lower stomach, hopelessly inflamed by how you shivered at the word. 

Unable to resist his carnal desires any longer, he dives into your sweet tasting center, first licking a long stripe from base to tip before lapping at you like he was starved and you were his only source of sustenance. You keened loudly for him as stars filled every space behind your blinded eyes. 

There he is, you thought. There’s his tongue wrapped around my soul, stealing all my life force one flick at a time. 

He moaned at your scent, fully slotting himself between your legs and encasing his head between your thighs. It felt like his tongue was a lightning bolt against your sensitive skin, shocking your clit with every stroke, every tap, every suck. You completely surrendered to his whim, clamping your thighs against his ears, fully intent on keeping him right where he was for the rest of time. It had never felt this good before, never felt this encompassing. 

Ominis pressed his face deeper into you, taking the button at the top of your most private parts and sucking it into his mouth. You nearly screamed, your words jumbled as they launched themselves into the air. 

“Fuck! Oh God, Ominis!” 

His strong hands pulled your legs away from his head, his mouth unlatching from you like a leech as he paused to catch his breath. 

“Oh, is it a ‘God’ you want, precious?” 

His voice had never sounded breathier— never sounded so completely sinful. 

The blond laughed, a barking thing that sent a tingle to your toes. “I do not care if every single God and Goddess across all of the world, all of mythology was fighting over you— you are mine.” 

He bit harshly at the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh, indenting his teeth marks into you so everyone would know you were owned by him and him alone.  

“But if you truly wish for something devout, something reverent, then let my hands be your chapel.” Ominis gently ran his fingernails along the skin of your waist, dragging them up and down until you were a shivering, wiggling mess. “And I will treat your screams, your whimpers, your pleas as my scripture.” 

His unseeing eyes never left the direction of your heady, breathy pants as his middle finger slid deep inside of you, long and lithe and curling against the spot that made you believe religion was real. Moans of his name and swears that would make even the devil blush swam in the air around the pair of you, only being swallowed by the plush feather-down comforter under your writhing body. You plead with your husband for more, unsure what more entailed but all the more pressing your center against his awaiting mouth once again and grinding against his tongue. He quickly complied, pressing a second finger into your opening and thrusting in and out at a sped up pace. His lips latched back onto your needy clit and that was all it took for you to spill over into maddening nirvana. 

Your hazy mind picked up on the feeling of your husband leaning up on his elbows, kissing his way back up your chest until he reached your gasping lips. He quickly stole them in a gentle but desperate kiss; you could taste yourself on his lips and it drove you even further into madness. His prickly, end of the day stubble rubbed against your cheek as he tucked his face into your neck, kissing up and down your shoulder and neck with urgency. 

“You did so good for me, sweetheart. So, so perfect— just for me, so good just for me.” He was breathing even heavier than you against your pulse, hopelessly devoted to your pleasure, your happiness. 

He kissed your pulse, his whispered voice filled with adoration.“Mon coeur.”

He kissed your nose this time. “Mon âme.”

Finally, he pressed delicate kisses to your eyelids, resting his forehead against yours. “Ma vie.” 

My heart. My soul. My life. 

Warmth filled your entire body, your heart squeezing around his words and committing this moment to memory. Never before had you felt so loved, so worshiped. It was iridescent, the way you could picture his love-struck smile glowing behind your eyes— completely and irrevocably arduous. 

Still feeling his burning desire against your inner thigh, you rocked your hips against his, pleas beginning to spill from you once again, but this time with a need to please him. 

“Please, Ominis. I love you so much. Take me. Use me. I’m yours, no one else's. I want to feel you inside of me.” 

He bit your shoulder roughly, muffling his animalistic grunt before unlatching his jaws and leaning up on his knees. The blond spread your legs wider, lifting your hips slightly and wrapping your legs around his waist as he lined up with your entrance. You mewled at the feeling of his head rubbing against your opening, stretching you out slightly and giving you a taste for what was to come. 

Ominis whimpered at the feeling of your soft heat against his cock, a little bit of his original domineering persona slipping away at how welcoming you felt for him. “I love you too, my dove.” 

With no other words, the blond pressed his hips closer to yours, letting his length slide into your sweltering center bit by bit to not overwhelm you. You could feel every curve of his shaft, every vein along the underside without your sense of sight. Your touch was heightened to its full extent, and it was earth shattering how good this felt. You were simultaneously freezing and burning, living and dying. Your souls could have mingled together and entwined along your timelines with a burning pyre, thrusting you both into every lifetime possible to relive this moment over and over and it would never be enough for you. You both moaned in tandem when your hips became flushed once again, pelvis bones pressing into each other for a delectable friction. 

Ominis paused to catch his breath, little tiny moans breaching his lips between each inhale and exhale. His fingers wrapped around your hips, grasping onto your natural handles there as he growled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear with your slightly heightened sense of hearing. 

“I am going to make you feel so full, so pleasured, that by the time your climax sends you into oblivion the only word that will be able to grace your lips will be my name.” 

With that, he pulled out of you until only his tip was still inside and slammed into you, his hips harshly knocking against yours and his slit kissing your cervix. You wailed into the night as he continued to pound into you, chasing his own pleasure while still being perceptive of yours. In and out he went, the large prominent vein at the base of his lovely cock rubbing against the ridges inside of you in the most heavenly way. Your sounds sang together like an otherworldly chorus, your tones rising and falling in harmony as they floated delicately up towards the ceiling. Ominis’ hands continued to dig into your skin, his fingers surely leaving bruises on your hips that would last for days. You didn’t care in the slightest— all you could feel was bliss. If you thought earlier was pleasurable, this was pure, unfiltered ecstasy. The knot in your stomach tightened with each thrust of your husband's hips, each time taking him to the hilt and sending blinding whiteness behind your useless eyes. 

The blond’s hips stuttered as his orgasm fast approached, yours not far behind as he could tell by how tightly you were squeezing him. He surged forwards towards your face, capturing your lips in a kiss that was more teeth than anything else as he rocked the entire bed with his velocity. The headboard banged harshly against the wall as he swallowed your moans and screams, only the sound of his name breaching through the jumbled nonsense. Ominis nosed at your jaw, groaning next to your ear as his thrusts got sloppier and less rhythmic. 

“Come for me, my love— my life.” 

The instinctual, innate love he had for you was what ultimately did you in, his words ricocheting you into the strongest rapture you had felt in some time. Your husband followed soon after, your name conjoining with his as you both tumbled into the sweet hereafter. 

Your breaths tangled together as you both came down from your high. Ominis was the first to break the spell, pulling out of you gently before getting up and procuring a towel from your adjoining bathroom. He cleaned you like one would dust a prized possession, carefully and with reverence. You were like a precious jewel that he had to protect, something he could admire for years, centuries, millennia to come. Next were the bonds on your arms, which he undid with deft fingers. Your arms dropped to the bed in a grand thump, all of your muscles giving up from how hard you were thrashing. Ominis lifted you off the bed, his hands on your shoulders as he slotted himself behind you, letting your back rest against his chest as he finally undid the blindfold. Your eyes squinted at the sudden light of the room, fluttering closed for a moment longer as you relaxed back into your husband. The blond carefully took each of your wrists into his hands, bringing them up to his lips and kissing away the minute bruising. You swooned, perfectly content to stay in this moment until the very end of time— until the world died in a grand ball of fire, or with a tiny poof. 

Ominis kissed the side of your temple, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat. “Was that everything you hoped for, my dear?” 

You raised your hand up to his face, softly cradling his cheek in your palm. Pure affection spilled from you both in waves. 

“Yes, my heart. You were absolutely perfect.”  

***

like what you read? here's more!

[blindmagdalena]

The Fall

2.8k mostly sfw homelander x reader. christmas adjacent. depowered homelander.

Summary: After being struck by an unidentified projectile that renders him powerless, Homelander crash lands in your backyard, wholly at your mercy.

this is a rework of this original prompt. inspired by the fable of the mouse that aids the lion whose paw has been stuck by a thorn.  ♡

Homelander is over a hundred feet in the air when he hears something whistling through the sky behind him. Some kind of projectile. A small missile, maybe. It's nothing he hasn't handled before: It could blow up in his face and he would be fine. He’s more curious about what exactly it is, who’s stupid enough to fire it at him, and where it’s coming from. 

With that in mind–in that split second he has to react–he decides to forgo dodging it and instead attempt to catch it.  However, as the mystery projectile gets nearer, his vision begins to tunnel. 

What the fuck? 

His reflexes slow, and before he knows it, the projectile strikes him hard in his left side rib, exploding in fumes that fill his lungs and coat his skin. In an instant, he feels pain like he's been turned inside out, a sensation worse than anything he’s felt since childhood. Instantly he's plummeting towards the ground, crashing directly into your backyard in an eruption of snow and yard furniture.

With his vision going black, the last thing he hears is the sound of the world turning deafeningly quiet.

When Homelander comes to, he's being shaken. No���compressed, hands over his chest, pushing again and again in a steady rhythm. Warm lips press against his, and a rush of air fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and out of pure reflex, he drives his fist into your unfamiliar form, sitting up with a frenzied look in his eyes.

You should have flown back thirty feet with a hit like that. Instead, you only fell back onto your ass, coughing. Homelander's hands are shaking as he looks at them, and he can feel blood dripping from his ears, taste it in his mouth. He's disoriented, his whole body heavy. He's having trouble breathing, every ragged inhale a struggle, and his heart is pounding.

"Someone tried to kill me," he rasps in disbelief. Not surprised that someone tried, but that someone very nearly succeeded. "Someone... Someone tried to fucking kill me," he says again, growing more hysteric the more the pain sets in. His own brain is hammering against the confines of his skull, beating at the backs of his eyes.

He’s certain that he’s halfway to cardiac arrest, but no matter how he tries to focus, he can’t calm himself. His strength is gone. It’s gone. He looks at you, you, who should have a hole punched through your chest. Instead, you’re staggering to your feet, totally unharmed. 

"Homelander!" You address sharply, audibly trying to rein in your own bubbling panic. He can see his own fear reflected in your eyes. You’re just as confused as he is. Just a stupid little mouse that crawled out of your hole and found him like this. "I can help you, okay? Let me help you."

There’s something about the sharp authority in your voice mixed with an undeniable quiver of compassion that catches his attention. It could be the degree of his vulnerability sinking in, but after a second of dumbfounded staring, Homelander nods.

It must be pure adrenaline that gives you the strength to help him into your house. You don’t look like you should be able to carry him. He's practically dead weight in your arms, barely keeping himself on his feet as you both stumble into your living room. The height difference does neither of you any favors.

You get him down onto the couch before fetching a wet rag, a bottle of water, pills, and a first aid kit. He watches you fumble with it, hands shaking. He assumes it’s adrenaline, though you lack the acidic stench of it. No, you probably don’t. He just can’t smell it anymore. He can’t smell anything except the faint tinge of blood, and whatever nauseating scented candle you use to stink up your home. Though, even that’s distant compared to what he’s used to. However, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to panic. Is this what shock feels like?

He takes the water you offer him, but denies the pills. “No, no. I have no idea what that shit will do to me right now.” You nod, setting the bottle aside. You then lean over him, inspecting the level of damage. His ears are ringing, and his whole body is throbbing with sharp, painful aches. Maybe the pills would help, but he’s never had to take painkillers before. He’d rather swallow tacks than lean on something so pedestrian.

As you work, he notices a mottled mark blossoming darkly across the center of your chest, just under your collarbone, approximately the size of his fist. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it, remembering the blow he’d dealt you.

You startle, looking down where he touches with a wince. The skin looks as tender as he feels. It must sting. Is he bruised like this beneath his suit? The thought of these same ugly dark marks mirrored on his own body brings him visceral disgust. 

"Don't worry about me," you tell him, as comforting as your voice can muster. You grasp his wrist and gently lay it back down at his side.

I'm not worried about you, he thinks derisively. "That should have caved in your chest."

"Guess it's my lucky day, then," you say absently, more focused on using a wet cloth to wipe away the blood from his temple, up into his hairline, seeking the injury. You're meticulous but gentle in the way you handle him, cupping the side of his face to turn him one way, then another.

If not for how clumsy your movements feel, he’d think you’ve done this before. There is care and determination in the way you tend to him, but no obvious medical expertise. Even the kit you pull from looks out of date and sparse. You probably picked it up from a gas station on a whim because you needed safety pins. "I think these need stitches," you say as you carefully apply bandages, brows furrowed. Homelander's gaze lingers on your lips as you speak. What kind of person sees someone fall out of the fucking sky, blowing a crater in their yard in the process, and then thinks to give them CPR?

"I'm calling an ambulance," you say, moving to stand. That breaks him out of his stupor. He catches you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, despite how pitifully weak his own grasp feels. "No, no, not... Don't do that," he says, screwing his eyes shut briefly. No one else can know that this happened. Besides, if those psychopaths are still out there, it will draw them right to him. "Too much attention, I just... give me a fucking minute," he says, flexing his hands. They still feel weak, tingling like they've fallen asleep, but the bizarre sensation is gradually beginning to abate.

Whatever was done to him, it doesn't seem to be permanent. 

He hopes to fuck that it isn’t. "Okay," you say tentatively. Instead of leaving, however, you reposition to continue wiping the blood from his face, gently rubbing from his temples down his jaw. He watches you like a hawk, rolling his fingers in and out of fists, gradually feeling his strength return to him.

He's unaccustomed to the way you're handling him. One hand cupping his jaw, ginger in the way you move his head only when you absolutely need to. The concern wrinkled between your brows is so palpable, so sincere, that for a moment he almost forgets you're strangers to each other.

"What're you doing?" He asks eventually, voice low. You pause, looking down to meet his eye. "Oh, I just... There's still blood, and I didn't want to leave you alone."

Your response tightens something in his chest, like a steel coil wrung too tight, leaving him uncomfortable. He feels small, vulnerable, and the tenderness of your touch is doing nothing for it. "I don't need you," he snaps defensively. "I'm fine."

"Okay," you respond, aggravatingly calm. Still soothing. "What do you need?" Homelander opens his mouth, but hesitates. Your earnestness is infuriating, waiting on bated breath for what you can do for him. He closes his mouth, jaw tight. His gaze flickers back down to the bruise on your chest. It's darker now, varying shades of purple and yellow fading into one another.

Looking back up at you, he schools his expression into calm focus. "Close the blinds," he says, gesturing with his head to the window, where you have twinkling white Christmas lights strung up. 

"I need to lay low awhile." He can feel his powers steadily returning. Once he gets back to Vought, he'll find out who it was, and rip out their fucking spine.

You've already gotten up to do as he asked, drawing the blinds down, and then closing the curtains over them. Afterwards, you turn to leave.

"Hey," Homelander calls, frowning. You stop in the doorway. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen," you answer, hand on the doorframe. "You can call if you need something."

"Stay here," he says, ignoring the bit of petulance he can hear in his own voice. He doesn't care if you're confused. He doesn't care that he doesn't entirely understand himself. He just wants you to stay.

He watches you take a seat at the end of the couch, near his feet. He exhales, closing his eyes. It isn't as though you could do anything if proficient killers did appear, but for whatever reason, no matter how useless you would ultimately be, he feels better for having you near.

Even a curtain is better than no door at all.

After half an hour, his senses begin to sharpen again. It begins as a dull, irritating buzz at first. It has him rubbing at his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It rolls in and out of focus, making it difficult to adjust to. “Are you okay?” You ask from the other end of the couch, where you’ve been sitting with remarkable patience. Maybe you’re afraid of him. He hates not being able to tell by the rate of your heart.

“Peachy keen,” he replies flatly. “Hearing’s coming back.”

“That’s good,” you say, though the inflection you end with makes it sound more like a question.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s just… Loud,” he says, grinding the heel of his palm into his temple. His skull is still pounding. “Everything’s all… Coming back in a jumble. Giving me a fucking headache,” he says, though as he speaks, he realizes he’s able to focus fairly well on the conversation, drowning out the more intrusive ambient sounds. “Keep talking.”

You look surprised by his demand, but after a beat, you oblige. After maybe an hour of idle conversation, he learns your name, that you work from home, you like decorating for Christmas even when you spend it alone, and that you've lived a thoroughly dull, ordinary little life until this very moment.

That’s just what you’ve told him.

From his personal observations, he's learned that you’re a perpetual fidgeter, that you touch your face when you're nervous, and that you would rather laugh than take any of his disparaging remarks about your mundane life to heart.

"I think it's lucky for you that I’m so boring. I might not have been here otherwise," you counter. Your smile is so inexplicably charming–nose wrinkled like you’ve somehow pulled a fast one on him–that Homelander forgets to refute your point. Instead, much to your alarm, he sits up.

"Oh, steady! Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, standing as he does, hands out as if to catch him. He stretches his hands out in front of him, and then curls his arms back in. Exhaling, his eyes flare crimson. He likes the way it makes your heart jump when he looks at you through the red glow.

His lips quirk, lasers fading out. "Good as new," he says confidently, though the aches of his fall still linger in his joints. Not quite new. He takes a few long strides across your living room, pausing in the doorway to your kitchen, where he can see through to your yard, and the absolute crater he left in it. "Vought will... take care of that," he says, gesturing vaguely to the destruction.

You can't help but laugh, crossing your arms loosely to survey the damage with him. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm just glad you're alright," you say honestly, staring out into the wreckage of your yard.

Homelander purses his lips slightly, glancing at you from his peripheral. Above him, he feels something brush the top of his head. When he glances up, what he sees hanging in the doorway makes him smile deviously.

Without warning, he puts his hands on your waist and spins you to him, lips landing warm and firm on yours. He absolutely devours the surprised little noise you make against him, halfway tempted to see what other sounds he can wring from you.

Your heart quickens to a race in his ears, and much to his delight, you kiss him back. You even surprise him by grabbing the back of his head with both hands, deepening the kiss of your own volition.

Not one to be out done, he adjusts his hold on you, one arm wrapping properly around your waist while the other slides up to cup the back of your neck, gloved fingers gently squeezing your bare skin.

To his delight, you retaliate with your tongue, slipping it between his lips and coaxing his forth.

Just full of surprises, little mouse.

Maybe you aren't so boring after all.

He meets you eagerly, exhaling a rough, excited little huff through his nose, dropping the hand at your waist to grab a cheeky squeeze full of your ass, wringing a soft moan from you that sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock.

When Homelander pulls back, you're flushed warmly all over. You smell of antiseptic wipes and peppermint, like Christmas in a hospital. It’s bizarrely appealing.

"What was that?" You ask, dazed.

"Mistletoe," he purrs, tipping his head back without taking his eyes off you, settling his hands back on your waist.

You look up slowly–taking a solid few seconds to process–and huff a gentle little laugh, nodding at the aforementioned ornament dangling above you. 

"Is this your way of saying thank you?" You manage to ask after swallowing back the lump in your throat, your shoulders relaxing, though your heart continues to gallop in your chest. "I hope you're still going to pay for my yard."

It's Homelander's turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I haven't even begun to say thank you yet," he assures you, hands lingering on your hips. 

The kiss had been pure unrestricted impulse, nothing he intended to follow through on. However, now that you're toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, your skin warm against his, your eyes half lidded, he’s not sure that he wants to let you go. Your lips shine where you’ve licked the taste of his from them. 

“I think for your good deeds, you’re owed a very merry Christmas,” he says, waggling his brows. 

You give a flustered, incredulous bark of laughter, covering your mouth as you look away from him, that flush of yours intensifying, making your whole body thrum warmly. You wouldn’t need to worry about keeping warm on these cold winter nights if he had his way with you.

“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for… for that thought,” you say, tripping over your words in a way you haven’t this entire encounter. “You hit your head pretty hard, though so maybe before you make any promises, we make sure you get checked out by an actual doctor,” you say, pushing lightly against his chest.

He maintains his hold for just a second longer, utterly immovable. It feels good to be himself again. He runs his tongue along his teeth, downright predatory in the way he stares down at you, but he does relinquish his hold.

“You should come with me to the tower. You know, now that you’re… Compromised,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “Someone might come looking for me here. Interrogate you on my condition.”

Real fear flashes in your eyes at that. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he gives back gravely.

“Uh… Okay. Uhm, let me… I’ll pack a bag,” you say nervously, stepping away from him to do just that.

“Okie-dokie,” he gives back simply, glancing around your home while he waits. He picks up an odd little gnome with a big red hat that covers everything but a little button nose, and a long white beard. Maybe he’ll convince you to bring along some of your festive decorations.

Merry Christmas to me, he thinks, already daydreaming about twisting the head off of whoever hit him with some kind of neutralizing agent.

He might thank them for the impromptu date while he’s at it.

[letthemusicmoveyou28]

Tossing Round Like Coins by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

Written for @1domegaverseficfest

Pairing: Alpha Louis/Alpha Harry

Rating: Explicit- 25k

“No, no it’s fine.” Louis rubs the back of his neck a little awkwardly. “I guess I’m just not used to hearing another alpha talking about taking a knot is all. You caught me off guard a bit, but I don’t mind.”

Harry’s look of embarrassment soon morphs into a smirk. “Not a lot of knot talk in the locker rooms then?”

Louis laughs. “Oh yeah there is. But it’s more like arguments over whose is bigger and that.” He schools his face into what he hopes is an over exaggerated, self-righteous expression. “But not me of course, because I’m proper evolved.”

Harry snorts out a laugh. “Of course you are.”

(Or the one where Louis is an alpha who does manly alpha things like play professional football and lift weights at the gym, where he meets alpha Harry who wears nail polish and dates other alphas. Louis isn’t put off by Harry’s strange tendencies, more like intrigued. And maybe just maybe, he’s interested).

Title from Kissing Other Boys by JXCKY

Read on Ao3!

[dreaminrainbows]

I just wanna be yours (wanna be yours, wanna be yours)

Harry studies his sixteen year old self’s face for a long moment and it's truly pathetic how in fourteen years nothing has really changed. He's had enormous success throughout the years, has a couple of Grammys to prove it, yet he'd still be Louis Tomlinson’s vacuum cleaner in a blink of an eye. Louis does like his coffee hot and Harry would gladly be his coffee pot. He groans again, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He's been trying to get a grip on himself for the past fourteen years, the only grip he's gotten is on his man.

Read now on AO3

[lunarheslwt]

On a starlit night

Written by @lunarheslwt for @1domegaverseficfest

“Then… then, what is your motive?” “Must I have one?” Louis scoffed. “What, so am I to believe you just woke up one day and thought ‘Yeah actually, I would like to be one of the suitors of my pack Luna’s ceremony’?” “There’s no motive, nothing like you’re thinking,” Harry replied, glancing at him. “I don’t know what the alphas out there want. I just want a chance to show that I can be a good alpha that can fulfil your needs, both as your mate as well as in supporting you in your Luna duties. Just a chance to show you how well I could care for you, if you were to pick me.” Louis was floored by his sincerity. “That’s all you want? Just that?” Just me? “Yeah.” Or, omega and future Luna Louis is holding a mating ceremony to find his mate, but what he doesn’t expect to see amongst the alphas vying for his hand, is a familiar, yet unexpected face: Harry Styles.

24k / M / Omegaverse / Pack luna mating ceremony au / moodboard by me, all pictures belong to original creators and owners

Read here.

[sweetlarrybaby]

And You Knew What It Was by sweetlarrybaby / @sweetlarrybaby

Prompt 3182

Pairing: Harry/Louis

Rating: Explicit - 4K

Louis couldn’t help but steal glances at Harry, the kiss replaying in his mind. The curiosity had transformed into a different kind of wonder, a question that now felt much closer to being answered. And from the look in Harry’s eyes, Louis knew he wasn’t the only one thinking, what if?

(or the one where Harry and Louis have been best friends forever and it never meant anything more than that, until a fateful game of truth and dare)

Read on AO3 now!

[the-dangerous-mute-lunatic]

Redemption - @silverstreams

A commission that accompanies the final chapter of Redemption!

Every story comes to a close, and every character finds the bonds that make them whole. Congrats to Silver for 10 years and the finale of an incredible fic!

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Aftermath: Yellow Eyes

Gordon has trouble sleeping, even months after waking up in the hospital after the Black Mesa incident. Worse yet are the things he's been seeing since then.

CW: Drug mentions

Notes: A little over 2000 words, and another short Aftermath story, as a treat

Dyson Spheres.

Incredible, unfathomable structures built to harvest the energy of the stars; large rings of an intelligent being’s design, orbiting the star it imprisons. The rings each hold enough energy to power entire civilizations, those very civilizations being made up of things man currently doesn’t know, or will very well never understand. What remains out in the distant reaches of the universe remains a mystery, one that humanity may never even come close to grasping within its feeble minds and sense of what is reality. What even is reality? Is it something set in stone, the very pieces of it being placed together like a cosmic, fractured puzzle, with the full picture slowly being revealed? Is it something that fluctuates like the waves of the great seas, something that humanity can get so close to understanding, yet every time it goes the right path, the road ahead becomes twisted and deformed like tangled ropes, with humans having to begin the process of entanglement anew. 

The Dyson sphere appears so simple to the mind, the concept feeling like the natural next step in power production, yet at the very same time it feels so grandiose and impossible for it to be fully understood. What happens when something far greater than humanity has already found out the very concept of what reality is, bending it to its will and making the improbable and incomprehensible perfectly understandable to their greater minds? Would humanity fall to the greater power? Will they adapt to the new understanding of the universe, or will they perish like a rabbit ensnared in a hunters trap, doomed to thrash and attempt to free itself, only to realize it doesn’t have the strength nor the understanding to ever truly be free? Perhaps if we look at the stars long enough, they’ll finally meet our gaze; only then will we learn if our eyes will see the splendor of the cosmos or if they’ll burn like everything else.

Gordon stared at the messy drawings in his journal, depicting Dyson spheres and alien planets, ones that he could only imagine being out there, somewhere, in the infinity of space. His eyes stung from the cold air around him, with it being hard to remember if he’s even blinked once within the last few minutes. His glasses had slid down his nose, nearly falling off before he pushed them up with one of his thin, calloused and scarred hands. He was unsure of what time it was, or even how long he'd been awake, though the exhaustion creeping up on him, along with the headache he felt reverberating in his skull, were enough to deter him from wasting more time thinking too hard about too many things at once. He carefully shut the journal, shoving it into one of the drawers in the desk before standing up. His right shin ached, sending a sharp pain up his leg as soon as he placed his weight on it. He brushed the pain off, reaching for the wooden cane that was leaning against the side of the desk’s top.

When Gordon left the office, he glanced down the hallway he stood in, seeing the light from the lamp placed in the living room pouring through, barely reflecting off of his green eyes before he turned around, opening one of the doors of the hallway. He flicked on the bathroom light, being greeted to the mirror above the sink, with the sight of who was staring back at him from it making him let out a soft sigh. He first noticed how disheveled he looked; His hair was uncut and unclean, pulled back into a lazily done ponytail, and his beard was no longer a clean-cut goatee, but instead a messy, stubbly mess. He was still wearing the hand-me-down green sweater Eli had gifted him right when he got out of the hospital a couple months prior; God, had it already been that long? Despite the sheer mess his appearance was, his eyes were the worst part. They appeared darkened by the shadow under his brows, the bags under them telling how little sleep he’s gotten for him. The once bright, hopeful look in his eyes was now a hollow, dark glare. He examined the face of the man who he was surprised, yet disappointed, survived things that have made full armies fall, all before he shook off the feeling and opened the mirror, revealing the medicine cabinet behind it.

He pushed empty pill bottles to the side before grabbing a semi-transparent orange bottle with a white cap, one that had his name on it. He opened it, taking out the last two pills before swallowing them, all before slamming the bottle on the countertop beside the sink and closing the mirror. He looked down, not making eye contact with himself as he turned away, back into the dark hallway as the bathroom light was shut off behind him. When he limped into the living room, only barely using his cane to support his weight, he heard rustling coming from the kitchen nearby. He stared into the dark room, catching short glimpses of a green light coming from inside before he approached, flicking on the light to see if he could see what was there. He walked around one of the kitchen’s counters, hearing the rustling getting louder before he finally saw the culprit; A small bug-like creature biting and clawing at a pack of off-brand cookies. Gordon sighed, realizing it was nothing but his pet Snark, or Stanley as he called him. Gordon placed his cane against the wall, letting out his breath as he crouched down, his right leg nearly giving out as he did so, to pick up the dull red and black shell of the oversized bug, causing it to let out high-pitched squeaks as it was held up. Gordon stared at its one, giant glowing green eye before he held it against his chest with one hand, using the other to pick up the torn packaging of the plastic cookie container; no wonder the vet said that Stanley was slightly overweight.

Gordon tossed the container into the trashcan as he left the room, flicking the light off as he limped towards the living room couch and the lamp resting beside it. Stanley hopped out of Gordon’s grasp, landing on the couch cushions before Gordon sat down beside where it landed. He rested his hands on his jean clad legs, before reaching up and removing his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the other hand as if that would help ease the exhaustion. Stanley chirped and squeaked as it crawled around the couch, moving up and onto the back of it when Gordon turned his legs to lay across the entirety of the couch. He adjusted himself until he was mostly comfortable, using one of the cushions to support his head and sore leg, all before he lightly placed his glasses onto the coffee table in front of the couch. Stanley rolled off of the back of the couch, landing on Gordon’s stomach, making Gordon let out a breath and wincing slightly when he felt Stanley’s claws digging into his stomach, luckily not enough to leave any cuts. He lightly caressed the back of Stanley’s shell as it laid down on top of him, its eye closing before Gordon leaned back, reaching for the lamp’s pull-cord, and shutting it off.

.

.

.

Gordon heard static before his eyes had even opened, the harsh sound ripping him out of deep sleep more effectively than any alarm clock ever has. When his eyes opened, he glanced towards the pale-blue light of the television near the front of the room, seeing it was tuned to a dead channel. Gordon was tempted to get up and shut it off, but his arms nor legs made any attempt to move from their spot on the couch. In fact, nothing could move aside from his eyes, with a wave of paralyzation hitting him at that moment. Gordon’s heart thumped in his chest as he tried not to panic, knowing it to just be a temporary paralysis that would leave him at any moment, though the longer it took, the further he delved into feeling trapped in his own body. As he desperately tried to move a single one of his limbs, he froze, eyes staring at something he could barely see through his blurred vision. Next to television stood a tall man, one that was barely visible through the darkness behind the bright light of the static. Gordon could make out the outline of its white dress shirt under its dark coat and tie, but Gordon’s eyes fixated on the two bright yellow eyes staring back at him in silence. The man didn’t move, feeling close to a bizarre statue one might find in a museum somewhere, feeling so lifelike yet so surreal and fake at the same time. 

Gordon was unsure whether the apparition was real or simply another hallucination, yet his body had already made its decision that it was a threat, trying desperately to get Gordon out of harm’s way, yet remaining unmoving aside from a few minor twitches. Gordon finally managed to free his arm, reaching for the pull cord before turning the light on, his head turning to face where the man was, only to find him gone, as if he was never there in the first place. The TV was off, with the static’s sound and light disappearing when the light returned to the room. His breathing heaved his chest, making him ache with every harsh breath he took. He sat up, eyes fixated on the place where the man once stood, almost as if he expected him to reappear the second he blinked. However, his attention was drawn away when he looked down, seeing Stanley prodding at his foot with one of its claws, its antennae twitching all the while. Gordon glanced back up, thankful when he saw nothing out of the ordinary before he leaned over and let Stanley crawl onto his hand, holding it up and placing it back onto the couch cushion beside him.

“Gordon?”

The sound of someone else's voice nearly made Gordon jump out of his own skin, his hand instinctively reaching for a gun holster he didn’t have around his waist. Gordon’s tension was relieved however when he saw who the voice belonged to: Barney. Barney was standing in the hallway, covered in a blank gray t-shirt and sweatpants, with his tired eyes staring back at Gordon, with an emotion that was unreadable. 

“What are you doing up so early,” Barney asked, “I thought you were the one to sleep in all the time.”

Gordon tried to think of an answer, feeling his throat become tight when he didn’t have one, at least not one he wished to share.

“Also…I thought I told you to keep that roach in its pen while you stay here.” Barney pointed at Stanley, who was in the process of crawling underneath the couch beside Gordon’s foot. 

Gordon looked around, not seeing where it had went before letting out a breath, messily using sign language to say; “Put him back later.”

“Why don’t you put him back now,” Barney said with a stern tone, “I don’t want to come back from work to see it raided the pantry again.”

Gordon looked to the side, deciding to not bring up the torn up cookie container at that moment. Gordon stood up, a wave of nausea hitting him at once as soon as he did, causing him to fall back onto the couch, sitting there until it started to wane again. Barney’s slightly annoyed gaze softened when he watched Gordon rub his eyes, tiredly reaching for his glasses to put them back on.

“...You look like hell.”

Gordon was aware of that sentiment already, making him not feel a need to respond.

“You sure you’re good to work with Doc today?” Barney questioned as Gordon tried again to stand up, this time succeeding in not collapsing. “You know, I can always ask him to give you a day off–”

“Fine.” Gordon signed. “I’m Fine.”

Barney stared back at Gordon before letting out a slight scoff. “I suppose I can’t really tell you what to do, huh.”

Gordon glared at him, not noticing, nor caring, how harsh the look appeared. It didn’t last long regardless however, as right after he began to look for Stanley to put him back in his pen, whistling to try and get its attention. Barney continued to stare at Gordon from the hallway, tired eyes only barely concealing his worry before he turned back towards his room to get ready for his job at the hospital. When Gordon heard the door close, he looked back at the hallway, brows slightly furrowed as he thought to himself. He didn’t expect Barney to understand exactly the things he had been experiencing since he woke up, and the very thought of telling him, risking the very friendship Gordon had been treasuring since he could remember, made him feel ill. Of course, the ill feeling could have also come from the tension he felt in his chest, but it didn’t matter regardless. Barney deserved better than to be dragged into another man’s mess, anyway.

Thus, by choice for once, Gordon remained silent.

[anto-pops]

you don't have to post this.

I'm just happy you nodded to how destructive that blog is. I'm glad to see some resistance to that blogs fucking existence.

I'm sorry anto. Parts of me is happy you've slightly moved on from HL just so that hopefully didn't barb you as bad as I'm sure "bitch of the blog" wanted it to.

Yes she self-submitted it. She does that with all her worst ones. It's for attention - and blatantly visible in her discord servers. Do not take it to heart.

I will post this because if you and I feel similarly about it, there’s bound to be others.

I’ll say it with my whole chest: that entire blog is a joke and an excuse for insecure, mean spirited people to harp on others. I blocked the entire page basically right at the beginning when I started seeing it pop up in my feed, but from what I gathered when my attention was dragged there by the anons in my own inbox, it’s full of people who:

A. Hate the game and all the characters

B. Are jealous of other creators and their success

C. Are too lazy to write their own stories yet have the gall to criticize other writers’ work

The fucking audacity to make a blog like that and defend the blatant bullying with “well we’re allowed to dislike things and have our own opinions” is so unbelievably lazy it’s not even funny. Nevermind the fact that there’s nothing anonymous about half the asks there— I could clearly tell who certain asks were referring to. Maybe the whole thing started with a few harmless polls (which is what I saw at the start) but it’s transformed into something so nasty that to defend it just leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Fuck that blog and fuck the people who feed into the toxicity.

[ltfemrry]

Sultan.

Tags: Harry bottom | Louis top | Harry dancer | Louis sultan | Harry femenine

Chapter: 1/1

Words: 1,700

Louis is an important sultan, Harry his beautiful partner and at the same time a beautiful dancer. Harry will give Louis a surprise, a dance in front of all the guests and also let him show how Louis claims him as his own in front of hundreds of eyes.

[starryhaze28]

To you I can admit, I’m just too soft for all of it

read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53088826

“Harry?” Louis asks when he hears the frantic crying coming through the speaker. “H, darling what's wrong?”

Concerned, Louis puts on his shoes as he keeps hearing the sobs. It’s the middle of the night and the phone call has definitely pulled Louis out of his deep slumber, but Harry is crying, and Louis has to be with him.

“It’ll be okay, baby, I'm gonna come over, okay? You just- Haz you have to send me your address, yeah? Can you do that for me?” Louis asks, trying to remain as poised as possible as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his jacket.

“No.” Harry cries out. “It's all wrong, Lou- It’s-” Another sob. “I hate it, Lou, I hate it so, so much, make it stop.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

the nesting shop au

[orqheuss]

In the pursuit of knowledge

(Ominis/F!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

“Have you ever been kissed, Ominis?”

***

It's after curfew, and you and Ominis are tipsy on firewhiskey in the Undercroft. The sexual tension is heavy in the air-- what are two teenagers secretly in love to do?

Ao3 link here

Smut based on a drawing by @gangstagandalf​

“Have you ever been kissed, Ominis?”

You were lying on the floor of the Undercroft, your legs crossed in front of you and your hands resting on your abdomen as you gazed upwards. A small smile creased your face as you asked the blond next to you the question that had been on your mind since the firewhiskey entered your system a few hours ago, your foot lightly tapping his where they touched. Ominis was leaning against one of the many columns in the space, his head resting heavily against the stone and his legs stretched as well, forming an L shape with your bodies. You both were pleasantly tipsy by this point, a soft warmth filling your bodies and a lovely little fog swirling through your minds. Sebastian had left not long ago, claiming that he was off to his bedchambers to sleep off his inevitable hangover; you had a sneaking suspicion that he was actually going to go bother a particular brunette Hufflepuff with a soft spot for beasts, though.

The boy pondered this for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing at his brow. He swirled the bottle of whiskey in his hand around, tapping the base of it against his thigh. A hum left his closed lips before he spoke. “No, never really had the inclination to.” He leaned forward slightly, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a small drag of the amber liquid before letting gravity pull him back towards the pillar with a thump. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. “Many have tried, but it didn’t feel right.”

A look of confusion passed over your face, your lips tweaking into a small frown as you raised up to your elbows. “What do you mean?”

He lazed his head towards your direction, eyes still closed but a close-lipped smile creeping up his cheeks. “I always thought my first kiss should be with someone I cared deeply for— maybe even loved, if it came to that. My parents have tried to set me up a numerous amount of times, but I didn’t feel anything for the girls they introduced me to.” He turned away from you again, his eyes opening and staring unseeing at the arched ceiling. “I want all the feelings people talk about— the butterflies, the fireworks, the encompassing warmth, not just my name signed next to some random woman that my mother deemed ‘appropriate’ for me so we can keep the bloodline strong.” He cleared his throat, swallowing around the sudden nervousness that rested there. “What about you? Has there been anyone?”

You hummed in thought, nodding along with his words. “I’ve been waiting for the same, though I can’t say I’ve had many strong contenders.”

You watched as a chuckle took over his visage, his perfect teeth glowing in the candlelight and his shoulders lightly shaking with mirth. “Yes, I imagine there aren’t many good choices in our current pool of suitors.”

A snort blew out of your nose against your consent, your expression twisting into one that said “no shit.” “Agreed. Most only want one thing anyway, and if I haven’t kissed anyone yet I’m certainly not doing that. At least, not with just anyone.”  

Ominis made a sound of annoyance in the back of his throat, the smile falling from his face as fast as it appeared and his eyebrows pinching downwards. “If those neanderthals only care about getting their dick wet, they don’t deserve your time.”

You laughed loudly, the crassness of his words startling you. After a few moments, he joined you with his own sounds of joy, ending with both of you breathing heavily and a rosy flush across your cheeks. Your hazy, intoxicated eyes floated over to his form, taking a moment in the calm to drink him in entirely. Nearly everyone knew that you liked the blond boy— everyone except him, of course. No matter how many times you’ve tried to hint at your feelings, each one completely went over his head. Some had told you to just give up, that he was never going to get it or he was just trying to spare your feelings by ignoring your advances, but you truly couldn’t help it; the boy was beautiful inside and out. It certainly didn’t help your hunger for him that he had decided it was too hot earlier and undone the first few buttons of his shirt, unknotting his tie in the process and leaving it loose around his neck. You took in his birth marks first, tracing each and every little dot from the corner of his eye, down the tops of his collarbones, all the way to his long, lithe fingers still wrapped around the neck of the square shaped bottle. Merlin, even his fingernails were lovely; you had never admired the small details of someone before him— how his elbows sat outside of his rolled up sleeves, the length of his golden eyelashes, the curve and pale pink color of his cupids brow. Your eyes danced over the curve of his mouth, wishing desperately to know what he tasted like. Would he be sweet, like the candies he loved so much? Would he be bitter like the firewhiskey on his breath? Or would he be something entirely new, something you had never tasted before? Your cheeks burned at the thought. Moving slowly upwards his face, you got caught on the sharpness of his cheekbones next. One wrong move and you could cut yourself on those ridges. You thought that would be a beautiful reason to bleed. Trailing up the soft curve of his ear, you admired his flaxen hair under the low lighting. The tiny blazes of the floating wicks caught each strand growing from his scalp and transformed them into spools of pure golden silk. You wondered if it was as soft as it looked— if it would look as pretty grasped between your fingers, if the light would catch it the same from between your thighs—

Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest, a familiar warmth growing in your lower stomach.

Cutting off your lewd thoughts, you snapped your eyes to his, watching the pale blue irises dance in the firelight. They were almost ethereal— otherworldly, you would say. There was something about the color that drew you in like a moth to a flame. Or maybe it was the sparkle that resided inside, the hidden spark of mischief that rarely saw the light of day? Either way, you could stare into those eyes all day if he would let you. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system or something about the intimacy of the situation at hand, but you wanted to swim in that blue. You wanted to jump in and dive all the way to the bottom of his mini-oceans. Drowning in his eyes would be your favorite way to go.

Your eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, your tongue poking out to wet yours as you pondered your next move. Crawling up to your knees, you shuffled towards the boy, reaching your hand out for the whiskey in his grasp. You gently unwound his fingers from the neck, minutely shuddering from the dizzying spark that passed between your hands touching, and took a long drag. Ominis laughed at the little cough that escaped from you, his hand reaching up and smoothing his hair before flopping downwards and landing right on your thigh. His fingers slid dangerously under the hem of your skirt, smoothing against the tops of your thigh-high socks. Color spread across your face and down your neck at the pure heat that radiated from his palm— a matching blush stretching across the boys cheeks just the same. Even still, he made no move to change his grip, going as far as to squeeze the skin between his fingers unconsciously.

You swallowed roughly, your gulp near audible as you lifted your own hand into the air, letting it hover for a moment with nerves before steeling yourself and letting it fall atop of his. Pure  need  burned under your skin. Perhaps it was time to be more direct in your approach.

Clearing your throat, you leaned slightly closer to the very handsome Slytherin. “Ominis, you’d say we’re friends, correct?”

Confusion creased his face, a question dangling at the tip of his tongue. “Yes, you know you’re my closest friend besides Sebastian. Why?”

You shift closer, causing the both of your hands to slip further up your skin. The blond swallowed thickly, shifting slightly to alleviate the pressure building in his pants.

“Would you say you care for me?”

Ominis can smell the tension in the air around the both of you. He inhales it deeply, his eyes fluttering closed at the enticingness of it. His voice comes out as a stuttering breath. “Y-yes, you could say that.” Care was definitely putting it lightly— he had been smitten with you for Merlin knows how long.

In a bold movement, you shifted your weight and threw one of your legs to the other side of his, straddling his hips and pressing your heat against his thigh. His other hand shot up to hold you still at the waist. Both of you were panting, heaving breaths mingling in the space between your faces. Your hands came up to drape around his shoulders, one of your thumbs smoothing back and forth on the skin creeping out from under his starched collar. Leaning forward a bit more, your nose brushed against his, igniting the fireworks in your chest and sending your eyes fluttering shut. There were mere inches between the two of you— one move and you would fall into the sweet oblivion of his kiss.

The boy could hear your heart pounding in your chest; It was a comfort to know that you were just as nervous as he was. His grip tightened at your waist as his thumb mimicked the motions on his neck at the center of your thigh. He could feel himself getting excited where the both of you were connected, and his heart skipped a beat when your lips very lightly brushed against his— barely a touch but still so very tantalizing.

Your words were nothing more than a breath. “Can I kiss you, Ominis?”

He loved how his name sounded on your lips.

A low groan came from his chest, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”  

And then there was no more space between the both of you. The kiss was gentle— lips carefully caressing against lips like two fragile pieces of glass. It felt like you were made to kiss him. Neither of you moved in fear of scaring the other away, your bodies stiff and hands trembling where they rested. After a moment you separated, breathing shakily against the other while your foreheads rested together. Ominis’ hands squeezed you harder, pressing his fingerprints into your skin and accidentally dragging his still moving thumb to your inner thigh. You sighed, a small moan humming in the back of your throat.

It was like a switch flipped in the blond at the sound— a primal hunger waking up inside of him at the sound of your pleasure. His lips surged forwards again, capturing yours in a searing kiss for the second time. He pressed you tightly to him, the hand on your thigh moving even farther up your skirt, passing over your bottom and pressing at your lower back. The other moved from your waist up to your head, weaving his fingers through your hair and gripping at your roots. You keened against him at the sudden pain, rolling your hips in search of a delicious friction you’d never known before. The blond’s tongue ran along your bottom lip, drawing a gasp from your throat and opening you up to his invasion. The absolutely sinful sounds of your tongues pressing together sent a shiver of arousal down your spine. Your hand snaked up the side of his neck, slithering into his golden locks and harshly tugging his head back so you could get to the supple skin at his collar. He hissed, mouth falling open in pleasure as you attacked the skin where his shoulder connected to his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses in the wake of each of your love bites. The hand at your back slid down and grabbed hold of your ass, grinding you down on his hard length and sending a tumbling moan from the both of your mouths.

The fingers tangled in your hair tugged you back lightly, dragging your face from his flesh and forcing you to meet his eyes. His pupils were blown out to their full size, the cicle of black nearly taking over the entirety of the soft blue pools in lust. His chest was heaving as he struggled to push air into his lungs and speak at the same time. “Wait— I need to know that you actually want to do this.” It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of your chest at the vulnerable look in his eyes. He was bearing his whole soul to you. “Call me selfish if you wish, but if we continue down this path I do not think I will be able to stop myself. Please tell me you want this as much as I do— that you burn for me as much as I burn for you.”

You breathed a laugh against his open lips, grabbing at the ends of his tie and pulling him closer once again. “I crave you more than I have ever craved anything else in this world.”

You cut off his sigh of relief with your mouth, teeth clashing together from the velocity. You use your hips to slightly rotate the both of you, pushing Ominis’ body backwards with your chest until you were lying back on the cold stone ground. He chuckled against you, biting your lip and pulling gently.

“Eager little minx, aren’t you?” You wanted to kiss that smug look from his face.

Your hands began to unbutton the rest of his shirt, leaning close and just teasing your lips on his neck. You felt wonderful against him. “May as well move to the next step— the pursuit of knowledge awaits no man.”

His barking laugh filled the chasmous space around you, ricocheting off the walls and echoing back to you before it was swallowed by a surprised moan from your teeth digging sharply into his collarbone, your hips rolling downwards in tandem. His large hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs, trembling in hesitation and restraint; he wanted nothing more than to grab you by the hips and drag you down across his throbbing length. You had similar plans it seemed as you pulled back and began unbuttoning your shirt. Ominis quickly captured your lips again, replacing your hands with his and all but ripping the fabric from your form, leaning upwards slightly on his elbows and shucking his own shirt from his body. You undid the button of your skirt as well, leaving you in just your underclothes. You moved to pull the long socks from your feet but a hand stopped you, a growl filled with pure, unfiltered want sending a pulse directly to your already dripping core.

“Leave them on.”

You frantically nodded, dropping your weight back onto his lap and grinding against him again. The sweet, sanguine sounds of each moan you dragged from his bruised throat furthered your movements. Incredibly annoyed at the fact that he still has trousers on, you reached your hands down and began to undo his belt, threading the leather through the buckle and tossing it in the direction of the rest of your clothes. You wanted to lick, to taste every single inch of his skin. Your fingers ghosted at the area where you connected, dragging your fingertips along his hard member and drawing an absolutely lewd whimper from his kiss-bruised mouth.

You whispered against the skin of his chest, taking one of nipples between your teeth and lightly biting. “May I?”

Ominis didn’t care what you were asking for, as long as you didn’t stop. “Fuck— yes, stars, please.”

Him begging for your touch was doing something to you.

You smiled against his ribs, pressing kisses to every freckle and mole you could find as you drifted downwards to his needy manhood. If someone were to tell Ominis that he died and had gone to heaven, he would have believed them— there was no way this was actually happening. A rouged blush dressed his entire body when he felt your fingers drag along the waistband of his trousers, your nails kissing his skin before popping open the button and dragging down the zipper. He lifted his hips to help you, hissing as you pulled his trousers and pants down to his knees and letting the cold air of his secret hideaway brush against his smoldering skin. His cock stood at attention in front of your eyes, the tip a brilliant pink and precum leaking from his slit. Your hot and heavy makeout session really got him going.

You licked your lips, your eyes trailing a particularly prominent vein along the underside. “Merlin, you’re beautiful.”  

The praise drew another whine from his throat, and he threw one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound in embarrassment. You must have put some sort of spell on him, there was no way these sounds were voluntarily leaving him. You nipped at his hipbone in a warning, trailing your finger along the vein that was currently fascinating you.

“No muffling yourself, my love. Let me hear you— I love your voice so much.”

He hesitantly removed his hand from his mouth, choosing instead to run it through his hair and mess it up even more while his other hand reached down and threaded in your own locks.

You smiled wryly against the skin of his thigh. “Good boy.”

You punctuated your words with your tongue, dragging the appendage along the length of his twitching cock and drawing a long, thunderous moan from the boy below you. My, what lovely sounds he made. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his weeping tip before opening your mouth and taking him into your throat one inch at a time.

He made a choking sound in the back of his throat, pleasure flooding his system.  “Fuuuck, you’re lips feel so good around me, darling.”

Darling. The pet name only spurred you along even more, your eyebrows knitting together as you fought against your gag reflex to fit even more of him into your awaiting throat. You were going to take him all the way to the hilt.

A stream of moans and grunts fell from Ominis’ throat as you bobbed your head up and down, finding a rhythm that works for the both of you. His fingers tightened in your hair, struggling against his need to grab your head and fuck into your throat. It wasn’t like he hadn’t experimented sexually before, he was a teenage boy after all. Masturbation was normal at this point in his life, but his hand never felt this good. Each bob of your head, each twist of your tongue along his length, sent a bolt of electricity down his spine and directly to the spot in his lower stomach where a knot of pleasure was forming. You lifted off of him with a pop, heaving air into your lungs and tonguing at his slit, and the blond saw  stars. He wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate; his orgasm was fast approaching with every flick of your heavenly muscle. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for something as you inhaled and exhaled headily from your nose. He was about to ask what you were doing when you took him back into your mouth in his entirety, sliding his cock down your throat and letting your nose rest against the curls at the base. He couldn’t stop the sounds that came from him, each one higher pitched and more needy than the last. Ominis tugged at your hair, trying to pull you off before he finished.

“W-wait— Shit, I’m so close. Please, fuck, I’m gonna cum, wait—”  

You didn’t listen, digging your nails into his hips and holding on for dear life. Your throat pulsated around him as you struggled to not gag, drawing a particularly loud and high pitch whimper from the blond. You reached down and thumbed at his taut sack, and he was a goner. A hiss that sounded distinctly like your name flew from his open mouth as he shot down your throat. You swallowed around him, licking at his slit for every last drop and pulling overstimulated keens from your lover’s throat. He yanked you off of him, an absolutely glorious blush covering the entirety of his body. You watched his chest heave up and down for a moment before you made your way back up to his face, smoothing your hand over his cheek and pushing the sweaty hair off of his temple before capturing his lips into a kiss. Ominis squeezed you as tight as he possibly could to his chest. You couldn’t help grinding against his softening dick, coating it with the slick that had begun to seep through the crotch of your panties and run down your leg. The Slytherin hissed between his teeth, grabbing your neck lightly and pulling you away. You chased his mouth and he chuckled.

“I can’t decide if you were sent here to save me, or kill me.”

He could feel your chuckle against his palm. “Why can’t I do both?”

He hooked one of his legs around yours, using the leverage to flip you over and press your back against the floor. Your mouth dropped open in pleasure from the feeling of his fingers tightening around your larynx. Ominis chuckled again, feeling your heartbeat pick up against where his thumb was on your pulse point.

“Oh, you like that? We’ll explore that more text time, I think.”

Next time. You liked the sound of a next time.

He ghosted his hand down your chest, grabbing at your still clothed breast and kneading the flesh, and it was your turn to whimper. Ominis wasted no time reaching behind you and struggling with the clasp of your bra, curses falling from his lips in annoyed desperation. Just as you were about to help him, he retracted his hands and instead wrapped his hands around the band, growling in frustration.

“Blasted thing—”

With a hard yank, he ripped the fabric of your bra and tossed it across the room into some unknown corner. You opened your mouth to protest when he crashed his lips to yours, pawing at your now free breasts and drawing little whines from your chest.

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

The pretty blond kissed down your neck, leaving a scattering of bruises like you did to him before making his way to your heaving chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and tweaking it with the tip of his tongue. You ran your hands through his hair in utter bliss, soft hums breaching the space around you. He let go of your peak with a sinful pop, drawing your attention to him as his other hand slid down to the waistband of your panties. Ominis pressed a kiss above your heart, letting his finger run along the underside of your final piece of clothing and listening to your breath hitch. That vulnerable look was back in his eyes.

“I want to return the favor. Please, please let me taste you.”

His sweet words were making your head spin more than the firewhiskey ever could. You made a noise of affirmative, not trusting your voice at the moment, and thread your fingers through his hair again. It truly was as soft as it looked. The blond smiled, his grin full of teeth and like he had just won the lottery, before he kissed his way down your stomach, stopping at your underwear and mouthing hotly at your hipbones. You whined in impatience, and he laughed against your skin before taking the hem of your panties and pulling them down your legs, kicking off the rest of his clothes in the process. Your breathing got increasingly shallow as he threw your legs over his shoulders, his lips pressing against the skin of your inner thighs and biting darker hickies in a spot no one else would see. He got closer and closer to your throbbing center, inhaling your heady scent and nearly losing his last little bit of composure. He looked up at you though his eyelashes, gazing at you like he could actually see how disheveled you were.

“I need you to tell me what to do, can you do that?”

You nodded, pulling lightly at his roots. He bit the mound of skin above where you wanted him.

“Words please, dove.”

You swallowed thickly. “Y-yes, I can do that.”

He smiled, turning your words from earlier back on you. “Good girl.”

A loud mewl spilled from you as he licked a hot stripe along your folds, the tip of his tongue catching on your clit and painting your vision white. He pulled back with an agonized groan.

“You’re so wet, my darling. Did I do this? Merlin, help me.”

He dove back into your sacred place, lapping at you like a man in a drought. You directed him to the best of your ability, telling him what spots made you see stars and the perfect rhythm to make you come undone. He was a quick learner, and soon you were writhing under him in the throes of pleasure. He had his lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves atop your privates, flicking his tongue every so often and sucking as his fingers teased your entrance. Whimpers of curses and his name streamed from your chest like a waterfall. Ominis carefully pressed one of his fingers into you, giving it an experimental thrust in and out, and your back arched off the ground in a desperate attempt to get closer as your thighs clamped tightly against his ears, suffocating him in your sweet center. You were a siren, and he was but a simple sailor entrapped by your hypnotizing song. What a lovely way to die.  

Groans of satisfaction sent vibrations through your entire body, dragging you closer and closer to your release.

You keened feebly, begging the boy making you feel this good— for what, you weren’t sure. “Please, Ominis—”

He groaned again, and the knot in your lower stomach got impossibly tighter as he pressed a second finger into you and curled, pressing his fingertips into that delicious place that you had never been able to reach when you were alone in your dorm room. Incoherent whimpers screamed from your throat at the sheer bliss that flowed through your body, your hips wiggling sporadically as he scissored his fingers and prepared you for his length. One particularly hard bit of suction on your clit had you tumbling, your orgasm rocking through you like a speeding bullet and sending blinding fireworks through your brain. Ominis smiled as he worked you through your finish, proud of himself for making you cum on the first try. You tugged at his hair, pulling him up from between your legs and crashing your lips together in need. You could taste the saltiness of your slick on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, slipping through your folds and sliding slightly inside. You both groaned at the feeling, your fingernails digging into the blond’s shoulders at the minute sting. Ominis pressed his forehead to yours, trying to steady his breathing and heartbeat and whispered against your lips.

“Are you sure you want this, my love?”

You nodded your head, a plea slipping out. “Yes.”  

He moaned at how needy you sounded— needy and cock-drunk for him. He kissed you, spilling all of the love he felt for you into it.

“Please tell me if you want to stop; I don’t want to hurt you.”

You huffed, “Why would I ever want to stop?”

You both moaned loudly as he breached your walls, pushing his hot member into your equally sweltering core inch by inch. Your eyebrows scrunched together at the pressure, and Ominis kissed the pain away as he got deeper and deeper. Finally he bottomed out inside of you, and you both stilled for a moment to get used to the feeling. You had never felt so full before, it was like he was touching every part of your body at once. Everything was simultaneously overwhelming and not enough. The blond dug his fingers into your hips as he warded away his encroaching orgasm; he didn’t want to finish before he could even savor the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. You squeezed his shoulders, giving him the signal that he can start moving, and he began thrusting in and out of you at a carefully slow pace. It was like nothing you had ever felt before— the pleasure was immeasurable. How people weren't doing this every second of the day, you weren't sure. You craned your neck down to were you both were connected and you couldn't help the harlequin moan that ripped from your throat. Whatever you were doing before this moment in your life was a waste— every moment not connected to Ominis Gaunt was an absolute waste. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pressing him deeper inside of you and drawing a growl from Ominis’ very soul. He picked his speed up as his orgasm crept up on him again, needing to feel you finish around him more than anything.

"Merlin, you feel so good around me— like you were made to take my cock."

His uncouth words went straight to your core.

Your mewls and moans filled the room; he was glad the Undercroft was so far under the school, lest someone would have definitely heard your screams of ecstasy. His fingers dug deeper into your flesh, definitely leaving bruises that will only get darker the next day, and slammed his hips against yours. His own wanton moans sang along with yours as the knot in his stomach tightened. You could feel how close he was from the stutter in his rhythm, and you reached your hand between the both of you and rubbed at your clit, pushing your own finish closer to the surface. In a rush of animalistic desire, Ominis leaned forwards and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, giving you the last push you needed to spill over the side of the precipice. Your orgasm crested over the edge, dyeing your vision a stark black as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You squeezed impossibly tighter around the blond’s thrusting cock, sending stars to the forefront of his mind for the second time that night and causing him to speed up his thrusts even more, chasing his own orgasm as you milked the life from him. His hips grew sporadic at the feeling of your tight cunt swallowing him whole, bringing his finish just out of reach. He panted against your shoulder, holding you against his chest as he whimpered.

“W-where do you want me t-to—”

You cut off his sentence, the throes of your orgasm still shocking through your system. “Inside me. Please, Ominis, I want to feel you fill me— I’m on the potion— Fuck, please!”

That was enough to send him over, his orgasm crashing over him like a tsunami as he spilled his life force deep inside of you. He thrust a few more times inside of you, prolonging his bliss before he stilled, both of you heaving air into your lungs like you would never breathe it again. He rolled off of you, dropping his whole exhausted body weight to the floor and pulling you against his chest. You rested there for a moment, basking in the glow of your first time and listening to the rapid pulse of the blond’s heartbeat. It sang to you a sweet lullaby, lulling you to sleep in the comfort of your lover’s arms. Ominis sighed, completely content for once in his life.

“I have wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea.”

Your head shot up in shock, your jaw dropping nearly down to your chest. “You mean we could have been doing that this whole time?!”

His eyes widened at your shout, processing your words for a moment before a blush spread down his neck again. He brought his hand up to his face, covering it in embarrassment as he laughed at how stupid the both of you were. You joined him after a moment, your head bouncing up and down against his vibrating chest. Once your cackles pittered off to soft chuckles, he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple and running his fingers through your hair.

“I guess we need to make up for lost time, wouldn’t you agree?”

You shuffled your body upwards, dangling your face over his and bringing your lips close for another sugary kiss. “Indeed we do.”

***

like what you read? here's more!

[hotcinnam0nspicy]

Hidden Intentions Chapter 8: Secrets

Available now on Wattpad and Ao3

Thank you to the wonderful @giselsann-opencommissions for this beautiful art work. Find a preview of the chapter under the cut. Warnings: MDNI, CNC content, Mature, Drug Use

"Incarcerous!" Ominis' voice suddenly rang in her ears. He'd trapped her in a matter of seconds before she could see him. The spell hit her hands and feet, black ropes appeared and immobilized her while Garreth grabbed her waist and covered her mouth. Sebastian quickly moved in and took her wand from her jacket, smirking as he held it in front of her panicked eyes and tucked it into his belt holster. His dark curly hair shadowed his satisfied gaze as Ominis and Garreth appeared out of their disillusionment.

"Darling..." Ominis called out as he stepped closer, "honestly, were you trying to put up a fight? What a shame... Are you not the hero of Hogwarts?" He asked mockingly as he smirked and ran the tip of his wand up Dalia's chest and up her jawline. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered with a satisfied tone, "It seems you're trapped, little Dove."

Dalia pulled against Garreth's grip and her restraints to no avail. Her eyes were filled with anger and disdain.

Ominis chuckled while Sebastian leaned in closer and teased her, "it seems you've let your guard down, love."

Garreth held his grip tightly on Dalia, she started wondering when he'd gotten so strong, his hand was held firmly over her mouth muffling her angry and confused screams.

"Now darling, you've been lying to us all day..." Ominis said as he pressed the tip of his wand to Dalia's chest with more force. "I am not happy about this. But... I'll give you the opportunity to speak truthfully."

[letthemusicmoveyou28]

Deemed and Delivered a Crime by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

Written for @larryafterdarkfest

Pairing: Harry/Louis (Mob AU - exes to lovers)

Rating: Explicit- 35k

Harry keeps his voice low and calm. “I need you to listen very closely because I’m only going to say this once.”

When he’s only greeted with silence on the other end, Harry continues.

“For every hair that is harmed on Louis Tomlinson’s head, I am going to break one of your bones. And then when you’re reduced to a pathetic little pile on the floor, my men and I are going to kick around your limp carcass in my garden for footie practice. Do you understand?”

There’s a few more beats of silence, before the voice on the other line answers. Still sounding calm and unbothered by Harry’s creative threat.

“I’m glad you received our message Mr. Styles. Are you ready to settle on a suitable sum for Mr. Tomlinson’s release?”

(Or the one where Harry is the most feared mob boss in London. Louis is his ex-husband who left that violent life two years ago to teach Uni. His peace is shattered when he’s kidnapped by Harry’s rivals).

Title from Which Witch by Florence & The Machine

Read on AO3!

[gothic-lottie]

Did a sketch for chapter 2 of Beating Some Sense Into You aka, the chapter where Isobel and Anne took the bit way too far.

Isobel is here to brighten Anne's dull life.

Chapter 1 Art

Chapter 3 Art

Master Link