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reiding-writing · 3 months

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cold!Reader starts becoming really soft for Spencer and the team noticing?

LITTLE THINGS [ONESHOT]

/ˈlɪt(ə)l -ɪŋz/

You’d like to say that you were entirely successful in emotionally removing yourself from your coworkers, but Spencer had managed to work himself into a crack in your emotional wall and the rest of the team is starting to notice.

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff || 1.5k || series masterlist!!

WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader being dismissive and cold duh

a/n: genuinely love writing for cold!reader keep ‘em coming

main masterlist!!

You walk into the bullpen with both hands occupied, a shed blazer occupying your left hand and a tardis adorned mug in your right.

It’d be a typical sight if you were a ‘typical’ person, but you had a deeply seeded aversion to the janky office coffee machine and everyone knew that the mug you were holding was reserved specifically for Spencer and his germophobic tendencies.

Although you had to agree with him on that one — sharing a coffee mug with somebody else was gross.

You leave the steaming mug on Spencer’s vacant desk as you walk around the cluster to your own, tossing your blazer haphazardly over the back of your chair to clear out the remnants of last night’s shift and the mess that remained in it’s wake.

“Good morning Ruler of all things cold and derelict, you look like you’re in a good mood today,” You shoot Morgan a glare at his jesting, pulling your desk bin onto your chair for easier access.

You blow a breath of air out through your nose as you rifle through the scribble notes you’d made, crumpling and tossing the ones no longer needed or just completely illegible. “And how would you know that?”

Morgan had a talent for not being deterred by your attitude, and he pivoted in his chair to gesture over to Spencer’s desk with his head. “You made Reid a cup of coffee,”

“So?” You furrow your expression with a glance in Morgan’s direction, putting your desk bin back beside your chair on the floor now that you could actually see the brown of your desk top.

“So, you hate the coffee machine,” Morgan raised an eyebrow with a knowing expression. “And if I recall correctly you expressly stated that the next time someone asked you to make a coffee for them you’d, and I quote, ‘shove it up their ass’,”

You roll your eyes at his response, slumping yourself in your chair with an annoyed expression.

“You‘re going soft Ice Queen,” Morgan chuckles with a shake of his head, leaning back into his chair with a satisfied expression.

“I’m not ‘going’ anything,” Your annoyance is very present on your face, but under your stony façade you know that he’s right. You are going soft. A little too soft.

“You’re going where?” Emily stumbles into the tail-end of the conversation with her own mug of coffee in hand, stopping beside Morgan’s desk with a raised eyebrow in your direction.

“Nowhere, leave it,” You scoff at the second unwanted attrition to your conversation, one you don’t even want to be having in the first place.

“She made Reid a cup of coffee using the office coffee machine,”

Emily’s gasp sounds like it belongs in a 90’s sitcom with how dramatic it is. “You used the coffee machine? You? Did you hit your head or something? Are you ill?” Emily reaches out her hand to press it to your forehead as an extension of her teasing, and you swat it away with a scoff.

“Screw off will you?”

“JJ, you’ve gotta hear this,” Emily waves JJ over as she walks out of Hotch’s office, her tone matching Morgan’s expression as the two tag-team you in their teasing.

“Huh?”

By the time JJ reaches the cluster of desks you’ve got your head in your hands and a seething expression on your face, mumbling to yourself about how much you wanted to go home despite only being in the office for fifteen minutes.

“You’ll never guess who made that cup of coffee,” Emily gestures over to the tardis mug with a smirk. “And using the office coffee machine no less,”

“Oh my god will you stop, it’s a cup of coffee for god’s sake-” You sound more exasperated than annoyed at this point, willing them to just stop making fun of you for making a single cup of god damn coffee.

“Oh, really?” Your prayers weren’t answered. And now there was three of them on your back.

You knew it was in good fun, and in part you were glad that they didn’t shut down at your harshness. It meant that they really saw you as a member of the team and felt comfortable enough in your presence to make these types of comments.

And you also knew that they did have grounds to make fun of you.

It didn’t make it any less annoying though.

The ding of the elevator was your true escape, although only for as long as it took you and your three coworkers to compute what exactly you were seeing.

Spencer’s hair. His shoulder-length hair with all of the waves and definition and the perfect silkiness that made you jealous to even look at it was gone.

You swear you almost had a heart attack at the sight, and JJ and Emily were no different.

The only one who looked vaguely normal was Morgan, a small smirk still etched on his face from his earlier teasing and now mixed with confusion at why the three of you looked like deers staring into a pair of headlights.

“Oh my god-” JJ genuinely looked like she’d just seen a puppy get hit by a truck.

“Is there something wrong?” Spencer blinked blankly at your three matching expressions, furrowing his eyebrows slightly in concern.

“Your hair-”

Spencer’s eyes rounded at the revelation of the origins of your dumbfounded stares, and he turns his eyes upwards like he’s trying to get a look at it himself. “It was getting distracting-”

He takes a small section of it between his fingers. “Does it look bad?”

It most definitely does not look bad. It looks like someone had just ripped him out of one of those romance novels where the male protagonist was tall and gorgeous and had fluffy hair that perfectly framed his forehead.

“It looks bad doesn’t it?” Spencer’s eyes avert from the group towards you, a furrowed expression on his face as his eyes scanned your features.

You were probably scowling at him.

He sighs as he dumps his messenger bag on his seat directly opposite you with a defeated look on his face.

You were definitely scowling at him.

He goes to pick up the mug from his desk with the intent of making a cup of coffee himself, but as his fingers reach the ceramic he realises that it’s hot.

“One of you made me a cup of coffee?” You can see the disappointment slowly fizzle out of his features at the sentiment.

Morgan opens his mouth to expose your favouritism but you catch him with a ‘tell him and i’ll kill you’ stare right before the first syllable leaves his mouth.

“Thought the pretty boy needed a pick-me-up, what can I say?” Morgan nudges Spencer’s shoulder as he sits down, effectively deflecting your secret coffee run onto himself.

“Oh- well- thank you?” He takes a sip of his mug cautiously like he’s expecting it to be filled with salt instead of sugar under Morgan’s craftsmanship.

But obviously it wasn't Morgan’s craftsmanship so there was no salt to be found, only a sickeningly sweet amount of sugar that makes you feel like you’re going to get cavities from just being near it. “It’s- perfect, thank you,” He sounds pleasantly surprised at the revelation as he takes a larger, more confident sip.

“No problem genius,” Morgan shoots a knowing look in your direction, joined by a firm pat on the shoulder by Emily as her and JJ retreat back to their own desks.

You can feel Spencer’s eyes linger on you as Morgan goes back to being productive, and you can still see the lingering insecurity in his pupils from the collective reaction to his new haircut.

He turns his gaze away the second you look in his direction, trying to busy himself with his mug as he takes the fourth sip in what feels like less than two minutes, moving a stray strand of hair out of his eyes with his fingertips.

“You look fine,”

“Hm?-” He almost chokes on the drink in his mouth at your response, holding a closed fist over his mouth to cough as his attention is immediately honed in on you once more.

“Your hair cut looks fine,” Your tone most definitely doesn’t match your words, but Spencer knew you weren’t the type of person to lie.

“I- uh- thank you,” Spencer deftly presses his lips into a line, a perfect example of the awkward smile that only Spencer seemed to be able to pull off without looking like a complete idiot.

You give him a hum as you turn your attention towards your computer, although his eyes don’t turn away from you when you break eye contact. “It suits you,”

Spencer hides his fluster behind the royal blue ceramic of his mug with a muttered “thanks,”.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #mgg #asks 🫶

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angelbarelywrites · 3 months

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♡ mine | tommy hewitt x reader

♡ fandoms; texas chainsaw massacre remake/ the beginning

♡ characters; thomas hewitt

♡ reader; AFAB body description, second person POV

♡ cw; graphic sexual content, implied voyeurism, breeding kink, light daddy kink (just calling him daddy? wasn’t sure what to tag that )

♡notes; i feel the need to apologize for this one lmao. i didn’t intend for this to see the light of day but i felt we needed more smut around here and this was already sittin in my personal folder

i don’t know that I’ve ever posted detailed smut anywhere before? so lmk how i did, i still haven’t even asked to get my friend to beta read so I’m sure There’s Issues.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

“Oh fuck, baby,” You sighed softly, letting your head roll to the side as you ground on Thomas’ thigh - the mountain of a man pushing his leg up with a huff. Luda-Mae, Monty, and Hoyt had taken a rare trip to their cousins’ place upstate, and left Thomas and yourself in a…sticky situation.

It had already become a war of attrition with you living there, each of you testing the other’s boundaries as you tried desperately not to cross the line. Thomas was allegedly a good, Bible-following boy- and you a shy little virgin . But god, something about Thomas just made you crazy. You needed him- and you’d gotten so shameless that you’d let him do just about anything to you.

That’s what landed you there, trying to entice Thomas and only ending up a squeaky mess as you rode his thigh. He was steadfast for a man years pent up- seeming to find great pleasure in making you unravel without cracking himself. Of course, you had no idea of the hours he spent fucking into his own hand as he imagined you around him, stealing your panties from the laundry bin and palming himself to the sight of you splayed out sunbathing in the yard. Even now you seemed too hazy to notice his cock straining against his trousers, or his fingers dug into the couch to prevent himself from touching your body. The way he trembled as he felt you making a mess on him, the only thing between your slick cunt and his leg your already soaked lacy panties…

His laser focus was broken by something entirely unexpected. You whimpered and hid your face against his chest, mumbling “Daddy- please—“

He wasn’t sure if it was the phrase,the tone, or both that finally broke his resolve- but either way he pinned you against the floral sofa forcefully, snarling like an animal.

“T-tommy- what- I’m sorry—?” You squeaked, seeming utterly confused. Did you even know what you’d said to him?

He growled and quickly signed ‘Again’. You blinked, perplexed look quickly replaced with embarrassment. You whined and tried to hide your face but he snarled again and made you look at him. ‘Again. Now.’

“…daddy. Please. Please I need you. Please—“ You begged, panting weakly as you writhed uncomfortably and unsated.

He rutted against you quickly, moving and kissing your neck sloppily. “Mine,” He rasped quietly, a rare sound even for his partner “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“Oh my god Tommy- please- I need you to give it to me- I wanna feel you inside-“

He made quick work of his belt, pushing your dress up carelessly and making just as quick a job out of ripping your undies clean apart.

You yelped but replaced the complaint with a blissed out, shuddering whine as he finally rubbed against your bare pussy. “Oh fuck…please- put it in-“

He grunted and pushed your legs back, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours as you felt his weight pressed against you. Even in this moment, he tried his damndest to be gentle, looking your face over for the slightest bit of fear or apprehension. “Tommy, please. Fuck me.” You whimpered out softly.

He pushed in carefully , having to stop only halfway in as you squeezed around him. He was huge, long and girthy and a painful stretch even with you relaxed. He gave a grunt and nuzzled you, hips twitching as he reached between you. Clumsily, roughly, he found your clit and slowly rubbed, purring in approval as you mewled out his name.

He was able to jerk his hips and finally bottomed out with a low groan, face buried in your neck. He held still, taking a ragged breath to try to regain control- but you didn’t want control. You needed him to lose it completely.

“Daddy, please. I want you to fuck a baby into me,” You murmured, letting a desperate whine leak into your voice. It was a bit of a long shot- but he was so possessive. Why wouldn’t he want to breed you?

Thomas’ eyes darkened at the thought and he gave a low noise you could barely classify as he pulled nearly all the way out and snapped his hips, setting a brutal pace.

“Oh god-“ You yelped, bracing yourself on his huge arms as he pounded into you, the entire couch creaking and slamming into the wall at the force. You lost any coherence you had as he again teased your clit, mind blank. You got exactly what you wanted, and it was too much in the best way possible.

You came first- you didn’t know if it was because of his stamina or because even in a frenzy he still needed you to feel just as good. You were almost crying as he continued, overwhelmed and overstimulated - and wrapping your legs around his waist to make sure he didn’t stop for a moment. “Baby please- inside- I want you to finish inside-“ You mewled out in your haze- but damn if you didn’t mean it.

That was all it took, unsurprisingly, for him to thrust one last time and fill you with a snarl. He peppered your face in soft kisses, giving a heaving sigh as he relaxed. You tried to move but he growled, keeping himself firmly inside of you. You blushed a bit as you saw his intense expression “You ah…you really liked when I asked you to knock me up, huh?”

He nodded, huffing at you.

“…you know we have all night to try again, yeah?”

He grunted and finally relented, pulling out and smirking at the sight of his seed dripping down your thighs.

“Tommy baby? I love you.” You sighed sleepily

He looked up quickly and seemed shocked. Man of few words that he ways- and never having dreamed he’d need to learn the sign, he took your hand and pressed it against his chest. Right above the heart. In your mind, there was no better way he could have said it; he loved you too.

#slashers #thomas hewitt #slashers x reader #slashers x you #tcm #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #tcm 2006 #tcm 2003 #tommy hewitt #thomas brown hewitt #leatherface #cw daddy kink #cw smut #cw voyeurism #cw breeding

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festivating · 4 months

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Elphie + Glinda + Liir family headcanons?? (I’m reading attrition rn and I love itttt)

Omggg happy you're liking it so far!! All of my headcanons will show up in attrition one way or another, so I'll try not to give too much away with these :)

Both Elphaba and Glinda are extremely protective of Liir, but in different ways. Elphaba will physically hurt anyone that hurts him, but Glinda takes the approach of showing Liir how to take care of himself via not looking for trouble and learning how to associate with the right people.

Liir is slow to trust others, because he's used to being picked on/bullied, but he trusts Glinda immediately. He and Elphaba take a bit longer to see eye to eye, but he trusts her blindly too.

Glinda cannot cook to save her life, since she's never had the need to cook for herself, but I like to think she can learn and does in fact try to learn so she can help Elphaba in making family meals.

Liir is not a picky eater, he will eat anything, but it's easy to tell he vastly prefers some meals over others and so Elphaba and Glinda both make an effort to learn how to make those.

I like to think Liir starts picking up both Elphaba's and Glinda's habits without them even trying to instill them on him. Like, as he grows he gets an interest in the things that matter to Elphie like Animal rights and social justice, but he also gets an eye for expensive things like Glinda lol

But because kids are never carbon copies of their parents he has his own things that he likes that Glinda and Elphaba Do Not Get. I don't know what the Ozian equivalent of an emo phase would be, but he would have one.

Activities!! When things are quiet and "normal" I like to think they enjoy spending lots of time together, whether that is going places or just staying at home. Even when he's a child both Glinda and Elphaba genuinely like talking to him.

Glinda and Liir are menaces together. Elphaba has never known a day of peace in her life, especially because when Glinda starts teasing her about anything Liir is always eager to join in.

When something scares him he usually goes to Elphaba because he thinks she's brave. When he's uncertain about something he goes to Glinda because he thinks she's wise.

That super common thing of the child waking up in the middle of the night because of a nightmare and crawling into bed with the parents? Happens a lot. Neither him nor Elphaba are cuddly people, but just being there with them can calm him.

He is easily distracted. Elphaba comes up with the weirdest games to entertain him and he takes them very seriously. "The floor is lava" is a life or death situation. Glinda doesn't get it.

Seeing who can scare Glinda and get her to scream the loudest becomes a regular activity once they start living together. Glinda still doesn't get it, but this one amuses her even if it's at the expense of her sanity.

The three of them have the wildest abandonment issues you can possibly think of, so they're pretty tight-knit. Perhaps almost to an unhealthy degree...

But to end on a fluffy note, they all love each other very much and it shows in different ways. Elphie with her protective streak, and Glinda with her willingness to rearrange her entire life to fit the two of them, and Liir with feeling safe enough to approach them for whatever he needs :)

#this .. was a lot. lmao #i can never shut up that's why the fic is so damn long #there's still a lot more to say like. both glinda's and elphaba's unwillingness to be parents in the first place #but i'll let you read about that as the story develops :)#i hope you liked my rambles dear anon <333 #answered #attrition tag #lana's writing tag

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totallynotcensorship · 2 months

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tags update: israel is now 5th. egypt is 8th, with lebanon, human rights, and middle east trending under it. collonialism and US politics are trending as well

context on why egypt is trending:

on this day(april 8th) in 1970, at 9:20 AM as a part of operation priha, israeli air forces bombed a primary school in a village named bahr el baqar(in el hesenia center. in the east of sharqia governate).

the attack resulted in 30 children killed. 50 children and 11 staff members injured. and the school building becoming rubble

after the attack, at the time israelli minister of defense moshe dayan stated "maybe the egyptians put elementary students in a military base" despite no military activity existing in the area, the "human shields" lie is THAT old. bahr al baqar was just the perfect combination of "damages from bombing it would push the egyptians into a ceasefire" and "not known enough for people to fact check our bullshit"

operation priha(tl;dr)

operation priha was a series of sorties by the israelli air force against mainland egyptian targets to stop egypt from fighting during the war of attrition. bahr al baqar was NOT the only one, on february 13th they bombed an industrial plant in abu za'abal(qalyubia), killing 80 workers. in addition to a long list of egyptian military and navel bases.

DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT INJUSTICE

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kedsandtubesocks · 1 month

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your favorite kryptonite

Comic Bookstore Owner!Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

summary: you think it should be illegal for someone this hot to work at your favorite comics & fandom shop

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MDNI. non canon AU. Dieter as a big fandom nerd (affectionate), brief one sided annoyance to lovers, mentions and discussions of various medias including marvel, video games & anime/manga, light use of gendered language, moment of harassment from a creep, Dieter cosplaying surprise, spicy themes, reader wears Dieter’s robe but no physical description is mentioned, light drug use (marijuana), silly chaotic but sweet!Dieter

word count: 4.3k

a/n: So I’m back with another wacky AU LOL this is my love letter to all things wonderfully nerdy & to nerd Dieter who in my heart i believe is totally a Kakashi and Goku fanboy lol the biggest thanks go out to @perotovar & @burntheedges who helped championed this and gave me the power up strength to continue, so grateful for y’all babes! And to you reading this thank you so much ♡

The new mecha anime figurines immediately draw your attention. Their sharp beautiful sleek designs stand impressively and although you might not be a huge fan you admire the striking style.

You’ve been coming to Atomic Planet Shop since your best friend dragged you here in high school years ago. Containing a wide range of things like a whole area to flip through comics, to a wall of Japanese manga - it’s a nerd’s paradise.

Currently you search for a birthday gift to get your best friend and maybe snag a treat for youdelf.

“Oh, a fan of Gundam I see.” An eager and new voice calls from behind.

Turning back you discover someone slinking out from behind the register. Normally Raymond, the sweet older man who runs the store, would be here. But now someone new stands in his place and you’re stunned.

The guy emerging from behind the counter is gorgeous.

Scruffy beard, fluffy hair, wearing earrings and rings on his hand, he’s hot. The shirt he wears says “Wolverine Call Me” in a heart shape. His deep chocolate even eyes seem to dance curiously.

“Uh, just looking.” You politely reply.

“Whatcha looking for?”

You explain how you’re here looking for a birthday gift for your friend.

“Oh nice.” He nods appreciatively.

While you’re turned, giving this new worker your attrition, you finally notice the glass shelf behind the register.

Your eyes go wide fast at what you spot.

“Is that a new Stardew Valley cookbook?” You can’t even process the words, you’re still in awe at the sight. Precious little drawings fill the space to show familiar dishes, like pink cake and lucky lunch, from the game. It’s gorgeous and so unique.

“Oh hell yeah, you a fan?” The mystery man exclaims. “You know we have a whole little-”

“Video game section off to the side. Yeah.” You warmly cut him off.

Originally the store had been very comics and graphic novel focused. However over the years it’s evolved to add more fandom-like elements and now there’s even a small but impressive video game focused area.

A sweetly surprised look falls over the guy’s face and it paints him utterly charming.

“So who’s your go-to spouse in SDV?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

You tell him and he nods sagely.

“I always go for Krobus. Gotta respect our cute sewer dweller.” He says.

While you laugh a flutter scurries across your heart.

A ring at the door chimes in breaking your sweet conversation and a cluster of guys walk into the store.

“Guess I’ll get back to birthday gift hunting.” You smile at the cute worker then return to the comic stacks.

Flipping through the different series and passing through many fun options, you catch the conversation off to the side.

The pack of young guys that walked in seem to know the cute worker and snicker with him about something.

“Oh yeah man, so I was rewatching Endgame the other day and the part where Scarlet Witch goes one on one with Thanos? Unrealistic!” One of them cackles and you pause.

Did they not even see or know about how powerful she’s confirmed to be in the other MCU projects? Even then, in the comics Scarlet Witch flat out changes the trajectory of reality. If anything Thanos is only strong because he got lucky.

But you hold your tongue and continue scanning through the comics.

These guys are probably just punk ass kids. You don’t want to waste your energy on these guys who probably also hate on other characters like Shuri and Carol Danvers.

Now the cute store worker scoffs amused but doesn’t correct them. Your face scrunches up.

You thought he was charming, maybe a bit eccentric, like a 90’s vibrant Lisa Frank vibe. Yet now your skin crawls just a little bit thinking he might be one of those unfortunately toxic gatekeeping jackass guys.

You decide to leave now. You still had time to look for a birthday gift for your best friend. So you’ll just come back later. Without a second glance to the cute worker, you slip out and wonder about maybe checking out another store.

Of course, you’re too tired to actively look for another store. The next time you return to Atomic Planet, you pray Raymond is there.

You’re excited and almost relieved to see the familiar eccentric older man smiling toothy at you from behind the counter.

“Well, you’re a wonderful sight for sore eyes!” He greets you and happily you catch up and chat with him.

Suddenly a chaotic bang clamors in. The handsome worker from last time tumbles out from the back room into the front as if he tried to rush over.

“Dieter man, what’s the rush?” Raymond laughs.

Dieter. So that’s his name.

The guy, Dieter, this time wears a Naruto shirt under a sleepy and cozy green robe. His hair is still fluffy and you don’t miss how wide eyes stare at you.

“Hey.” You politely but curtly reply.

“Hi.” Dieter waves and you hate how cute he looks.

“By the annoyed look on your face, I take it you’ve met this new headache.” Raymond chuckles and embarrassment rams into you knowing your annoyance is that obvious.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless.” Raymond waves. “He cries when he watches My Neighbor Totoro.”

“Hey what the fuck!” Dieter cries and you press your lips together trying not to laugh.

“Just ignore him, honey.” Raymond winks and you grin wide.

After thanking him, you head back to the birthday gift search. Searching now through the manga selection you notice something moves by the corner of your eye.

Turning to the side, a large Totoro plushie floats beside you obviously being held up.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” A high pitch tone acting as the adorable creature's voice speaks out and your lips twitch.

From the side Dieter pops his head out.

His hair, rivaling a bird's nest, creates a cloud around him and his wide doe-like eyes peeking out are so hard to be fully annoyed at.

“You know,” he now fully speaks in his voice, moving to hold the large adorable plushie in his arms. “Never got your name.”

“You have my full permission to beat his ass if you need to, dear.” Raymond yells dully from the cash register and Dieter squawks horrified.

You laugh bright. Turning to the side you see Dieter already holds his hand out. The half crooked grin on his face paints him so boyish.

“Name’s Dieter.”

You shake his hand, finally giving him your name.

“So, do you really think Scarlet Witch can’t take on Thanos?” You offer light.

Dieter sighs loud. “I knew those guys and what we were talking about might’ve pissed you off.”

So he was watching you. That brings in a curious warmth that courses through you.

“Well I do apologize.” He bows his head a bit. You at least appreciate that.

“I bet those guys are the same ones that don’t like Carol Danvers either or even know that Squirrel Girl defeated Thanos.” You add a bit snippy.

“You know your shit, I like that.” Dieter replies proud and the way his voice drips out smooth does something dangerous to your heart.

You shrug but fight off the smug grin threatening to mirror his.

“Maybe you need to go Gandalf on my ass and teach me a thing or two, like maybe over coffee?” Dieter offers and you’re knocked out.

So he feels this spark, chemistry or whatever it is, between you too.

“Maybe,” you reply back with a grin. “For now I gotta get back to gift shopping.”

“You still haven’t found your friend a gift?! Geeze, what kind of bestie are you?!” He cries out teasing and you roll your eyes.

It’s getting harder staying annoyed with him and not taking up his offer to get coffee.

You eventually decide on a comic art book for your friend and then spot the assorted mystery box trinkets to maybe snag a few for her and even for yourself.

“I know everyone says Goku would beat the fuck out of Thanos, but you know who else would too without breaking a sweat?” Dieter’s voice again arrives at your side. He’s rather persistent, your cute, slightly not so annoying gnat.

“Sailor Moon.” He answers himself sagely.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You snicker amused.

He practically beams besides you when you agree.

You ask if he’s a fan.

“Oh hell yeah! Sailor Venus is my fav.” Dieter cries. “I can sing the entire song theme opening for you if you’d like. Not to brag, but that and the second Naruto theme opening are my go to karaoke songs.”

You laugh, feeling it deep into your bones. He’s chaotic, but unbearably endearing.

In a blink, a rush comes in all at once. The fun sweet bubble you had been cultivating deflates and you hate how disappointed you get seeing Dieter scramble to try and work.

When you go check out, you’re surprised he’s the one at your register.

Even though he’s focused on working you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker up to you shyly but with a confident smirk. He turns to fully gift wrap the items knowing they’re going to be a present and you thank him for that.

When you grab your bag he gives you a smooth wink and you playfully glare at him.

Later at home, when you unpack everything, you find an extra surprise in the bag.

It’s a small box of strawberry pocky snacks you know you didn’t buy.

There’s a sticky note attached to it.

A sweet treat for a sweet customer! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ ♡)

Call me if you ever wanna get coffee or just talk nerd shit and make me absolutely fall even harder for you

Underneath the message, he left you his number and you can’t believe it. After squealing about it with a few of your friends, you text him.

Dieter replies back quick with the funniest excited cat reaction meme and you realize you might be in the best kind of trouble with this guy.

— . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.—

You didn’t expect the convention to be this crowded. Chatter fills the air as cosplayers move all around.

The booths stretch endless with countless tempting merch.

Your best friend tried to get you to plan a fun cosplay with her. However neither you or her could decide on what to pick in time. Now you're gladly comfortable in an everyday outfit and simply allow yourself to be in awe at the intricate lovely costumes.

While scanning the convention and taking in the beautifully controlled chaos in, you also hope to catch sight of someone in particular.

“Dude, stop trying to look for your hot nerd boyfriend.” Your best friend snorts and your heart trips over itself.

Embarrassed, you chide her and remind her that Dieter isn’t your boyfriend.

“Oh yeah because texting a guy everyday for the past month and going to cute cat cafes with him isn't dating.” She deadpans with a smirk.

You playfully glare at her.

It’s not official and you don’t want to rush whatever this is with Dieter. You haven’t even been to his place yet. You don’t mind though. You’ve just been enjoying getting to know him more.

You learn Dieter’s favorite video game is Hollow Knight and his favorite anime is Neon Genesis Evangelion.

His favorite comic book villain of all time is the Condiment King.

Matcha flavored Kit Kats have become his newest obsession session.

He saw all the Lord of the Rings movies in theater and can practically quote The Two Towers. Still has the comic book his best friend in middle school gave to him. Also refuses to let any of his Animal Crossing villagers leave because he’s so attached to them.

Dieter had made you laugh more than you can count, but he can be a bit ridiculous.

Like when he called you after he got off a late closing night shift to ask if Pacific Rim was real did you think the Kaiju monsters would maybe stop attacking if they found out how much he loves them.

Dieter does have his headache moments, but he’s an endearing kaleidoscope of a soul.

Earlier this week when you visited him at the shop, he said he was going to be here at the conversation. But with how bad the convention center’s wifi is, you haven’t been able to contact him.

“He even said he was coming in cosplay just for today right? Any ideas what he’s showing up as?” Your best friend wiggles her eyes while you and her stroll down an artist alley.

“No!” You huff still upset. “He said he wanted it to be a surprise.”

While you appreciate him wanting to wait for a dramatic reveal, you wanted to know what his outfit was from the minute he told you.

You wanted to maybe try dedicatedly searching for him, but you get completely enthralled by the mass amounts of merchandise delightfully distracting you.

You spot incredible fan art pieces, adorable handmade keychains, and very expensive but beautiful figurines.

It’s like a mini wonderland.

Checking out the cute earrings at the stall you’re at, you lose sight of your best friend. When you turn to excitedly talk with her, that’s when you spot it.

She’s a few steps away, very politely trying to inch away from a guy, dressed in a Deadpool suit without the mask on. He’s talking way too aggressively and getting way too close to your friend.

Immediately you rush over and happily jump in.

“I gotta show you this!” You thankfully have the best excuse to pull her away.

But the guy only takes it as an opening to instead follow you both now.

“Just ignore him.” Your best friend whispers to you.

You and her continue to stare at the jewelry. Yet the guy remains. He continues his discussion and seems to get upset that you or your friend aren’t replying. It’s creepy and persistent especially with how he refuses to budge or take the hint.

You try lightly deflating the situation by apologizing and saying you and your friend just want to enjoy shopping.

“Oh, is shopping all you two came here for? You know, you fucking losers aren’t even in cosplay. Fake ass fans.”

Now he gets really aggressive.

The air and tension shift. The poor cute shop owner in her adorable R2D2 dress even reacts getting upset.

“Look, we just wanna enjoy the con.” Your best friend replies sharp with a hard scowl.

“What in the fantastic fuck do we have here?”

Suddenly Dieter’s voice rings out excited and bright and you almost sob.

You whip your face around to spot him.

Except it is and isn’t him.

His hair is slicked back, gelled and curled. Thick gray colored hairs line his temples. It even looks like he shaved a bit.

He’s dressed as Reed Richards, Mr. Fantastic himself.

The outfit looks based on the classic 1960’s first comic book released aesthetic and it compliments Dieter’s frame gorgeously. His shoulders look unbelievably broad and his even arms seemed bigger in the tight soft baby blue material. You’ve never seen him in something so form fitting and it has your throat drying up.

You’ve even momentarily forgotten about the guy bothering you and your best friend.

“You bothering these two, ya fucking creep?” Dieter says with a nudge of his chin.

It’s hot as fuck.

The guy stunned gapes like a fish and stammers, but no words come out.

“Beat it before I shove a lightsaber up your ass.” Dieter replies bored, but it adds a sense of deadliness to his words.

The Deadpool cosplayer turns on his heels and immediately scrambles away. Your knees almost buckle overwhelmed.

Your best friend and even the stall owner cry out wildly excited in a bright neon awe of Dieter. You swallow back a sob as you turn to embrace him. His warm large hands pat you comfortingly.

“You saved us.” You teasingly sob, but truthfully you know he did.

“I’d been looking for you for a hot minute and was about to make some sort of raptor call noise to get your attention until I saw that shit going down.” Dieter explains.

“What a hero.” Your friend jokingly adds, but you hear it in her voice how grateful she is.

Dieter snickers.

“Guess you could almost say I was fantastic… mister fantast-”

You cut Dieter off with a quick kiss to his cheek before he can make the pun and your friend along with the stall owner laugh.

Gingerly, almost tentatively you move to intertwine your hand with his. He reacts immediately pulling you to his side.

For the rest of the convention Dieter stays besides you, walking hand in hand with you.

Even when you arrive at the booth for Atomic Planet, the real reason why Dieter was here to help work, Raymond waves him away saying to enjoy the convention with you.

Your heart flutters and Dieter squeezes your hand excitedly.

The rest of the time is a blissful geeked out dream. Dieter buys you a few keychains, even treats you and your best friend to a bite to eat.

You came to the convention with your best friend…

But you leave with Dieter.

Especially when your best friend urges you to go home with him and enjoy his hot cosplay.

You give her a look when she cheekily tells you that, but she isn’t wrong. Even when you grabbed the quick bite before the night ended, it was hard trying to ignore the amount of people turning to stare at Dieter with wide curious eyes.

And a little twinge of something faintly possessive bubbles in you.

That’s why when you slide into the passenger seat of his car, your heart drums loudly in your ears trying to fight against the urge to just suck his cock right here in the car.

“So uh…” Dieter begins cautiously and even a bit bashfully. “I don’t wanna sound too aggressive and you can tell me no, but can I kiss you-”

You don’t even let him finish before you’re sliding over the seat to him.

He scrambles and immediately pulls you close as his lips become a magnet to yours.

This is the first time you’re really truly kissing Dieter. You’ve kissed him gently good night before. He’s been cute with leaving kisses to your cheek or even against the back of your head like a Victorian gentleman. But now it’s a raw unraveling getting to tasting him from the source so greedy.

You won’t dare admit it outloud, but the soft feel of his lips, the scrape of his jaw, the smell of his delicious cologne, and how warm he consumes you -

It’s pretty fantastic.

— . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.—

Dieter’s room is a treasure trove.

Framed posters of Pacific Rim, AKIRA, The Iron Giant, and the original Pokemon Kanto generation line the walls. His bookshelf is filled not just with comic books and manga, but various impressive graphic novels.

A mock infinity gauntlet sits beside his television. So many anime figurines, including a really nice Goku one, stand protecting his reading collection.

What surprises you is his expansive and sleek gaming corner which includes a striking computer set up.

“You look hot as fuck standing in my robe and knowing I just came in you a few hours ago is even hotter.” Dieter says from his bed in the most sinful but half groggily asleep voice.

You smirk and continue to soak in his room.

“So do you get good discounts from the store?” You ask.

“Yeah, but it also helps that I co-own it.” Dieter casually tells you. You hear him shifting among the seats then catch the flicker of the lighter igniting.

However your eyes go wide realizing what he said and you whip back around to him.

“Wait?! You co-own the shop?”

“Well yeah, Raymond, that old fuck, is my uncle.” Dieter coughs out as he exhales from the hit he took off his weed pipe.

Dieter even explains how, because his uncle is starting to get a bit older, he decided to step in to help run the place.

“Besides, how else could I show off my extensive knowledge of elvish language other than at the shop?” He says proudly.

How did you just now learn this?

Dieter reminds you of a rubik cube you think you’ve finally figured out, think you found a groove for - until one out of the corners a jack in the box pops out.

Before you can even ask him about the shop or about his uncle, Dieter’s phone goes off.

The loud ringtone sings into the room and your eyes go wide hearing it. Dieter checks who’s calling then denies the call muttering out about how spam scam callers need to be fed to a sarlacc pit.

“Wait…is Cascada’s ‘Everytime We Touch’ actually your ringtone?” You ask, still not believing it.

“Fuck yeah it is, baby! That song is untouchable!” He cries and you can’t help but laugh.

Dieter smirks then pats the open spot on the bed where you had been resting before. Sliding back into the warmth with him, he gently pulls your face to him and kisses you softly.

The taste of the smoke lingers on his lips, but it’s still him beneath it all. You eventually wind up in his arms, cozy and warm in his embrace.

“I noticed the nice audio and mic setup.” You comment while his fingers draw aimlessly against your skin. “You trying to maybe go the YouTuber route?”

“Nah. Maybe. Who knows.” He shrugs. “It’s mainly for something else.”

Now his voice grows a bit distant.

You gently ask him what that something else is and Dieter fidgets

“Don’t… don’t laugh okay.” He mumbles adorably.

You reassure him earnestly you won’t.

He sighs.

“So I’ve been wanting to get into voice acting work.” Dieter reveals with a mutter, even sounding a bit embarrassed

However, you perk up so bright. Turning in his arms you eagerly smile at him.

“Di, that sounds amazing!” You mean those words.

You can’t help but ramble about how great he would be for that. He has the personality for it and he’s told you how he’s done some stage acting work. Plus, it just fits him. You think of all the silly voices he does and you hope now he can make this path a reality.

Dieter’s handsome face falls a bit and you stop. You wonder if you’ve scared him off, or maybe he thinks you’re possibly making fun of him.

You’re about to apologize when Dieter swiftly moves to kiss you feral and fierce. His tongue slides into your mouth with a moan you greedily swallow.

The conversation is put on pause when his hands slide up your thighs, straight to your core, and you fall apart with him once again.

Basking in the afterglow you rest against his chest now feeling sleepy, not even knowing what time it is. You realize being with Dieter is like existing in a realm a bit separated from reality sometimes and it’s beautiful.

“I don’t wanna be that lame guy,” Dieter begins. “But shit, I already really really kind of like you a fucking lot.”

Your lips fight back a smile you can’t beat. You turn to bury your face against his warm bared chest.

“I really kinda like you a lot too.” You admit.

“That’s unfortunate.” He replies and you snort.

“It’s okay. I only want the good discount on merch at the shop.” You reply cheekily.

“Aw! You don’t even want me for my body? Just my discount?!” He cries hurt and even jokingly moves to shove you off.

“Well.” Then he pauses. “Guess I could call my dick a discount, but then again… there isn’t anything short about that-”

You cut him off with an eye roll and he snickers wildly amused.

His fingers move to tickle you, to corrupt you into his same fit of giggles and you wheezing trying to squirm away from him.

Dieter’s hands eventually snake around you and draw you back into his chest. You melt against him willingly and even sigh comforted.

“Next time if we go to a convention, if you feel comfortable with it, you should cosplay.” He comments.

You admit that you’ve thought about it and list a few ideas you’ve had. But mainly, your mind thinks about the different outfits Dieter could go as.

The thought of him now as Doctor Doom instead of the heroic Reed Richards is a glorious thought.

But of course there’s so many other incredible options.

Dieter as Harvey or even Marlon from Stardew Valley.

Even a few anime characters that would fit him so well come to mind.

Specifically Kishibe from the series Chainsaw Man, with his striking cut across his mouth and incredibly lazy hot older demeanor, just fits Dieter so well it stirs something in you again.

“Maybe next con,” Dieter offers and pulls you from your thoughts. “I’m thinking about going as Tuxedo Mask. Do you wanna be my Sailor Moon?”

A couples matching outfit.

You didn’t even think of that. That’s what he was nudging towards.

You didn’t even think of that. But just getting to be beside him is something sweetly moving.

Then thinking about him in the sleek tuxedo outfit, in the white mask, is a dangerous thought you already ache to maybe see come true.

“We’ll see.” You hum with a smile, but when you go to kiss him it feels like a gilded warm promise.

“Never mind. I want us to go as Undertale characters and I wanna be Sans.” Dieter says suddenly and you snort against his shoulder.

This time spent with him, and the promise of maybe something more, is sweet starlit bliss.

#I blame this on wanting another anime tattoo so I’m sorry I’m here to spread the nerd Dieter agenda lol #comic bookstore owner!Dieter #nerd!Dieter #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #pedrostories

154 notes · View notes

matchavellichor · 10 months

Note

okay huge fan of your dark!seb but hear me out…… dark!ominis

A.N: I absolutely adore dark!ominis omfg—I have like five diff dark omi drabbles in my google docs that i've abandoned bc i feel like no matter how i write it, it seems too out of character for him, then i end up hating it LOL. This isn't as bad as my dark!seb but here's Ominis doing some.....uhhhh questionable things to MC under Imperius.

Just This Once

dark!Ominis x f!MC - NSFW/Angst - 3.1k words - ao3

Tags: !!Non-Con!!, Pining, Obsession, Inappropriate Use of Imperius, Unconsensual Kissing/Touching, Masturbation, Omi Being a Lil Pervball

Summary: Ominis' infatuation leads him to break some of the principles he's held dear to him for the better part of his life.

Part 2, Part 3 (づ￣ ³￣)づ

The fireplace in the Slytherin common room has long gone out for the night, only a few crackling embers to fill the silence. Moonlight seeps in from the windows, through the murky waters of the Black Lake, casting the room in a palid, green hue.

Despite the hour, he knows he’ll find her there.

He wonders if it’s one of the rare nights where she’s asleep by the time he arrives, curled into herself on one of the armchairs with her book forgotten on her lap.

One of the rare evenings where he can afford himself a bit less self-control. Indulge in the silkiness of her skin, trace his fingers over her features until the point she inevitably stirs, and he’s forced to retract himself as if he’d never touched her.

It doesn’t matter if it is. Tonight, he’ll touch her the way he wants to, either way.

His skin prickles with warring emotions as he makes his way soundlessly down the steps of the dormitories. Shame, guilt, disgust—overwhelming anticipation.

The dizzying feeling of want overshadows them all.

An ugly, marred tug of obsession claws its way under his skin like a parasite. He can’t escape it, can’t make it stop—hasn't been able to for a while now.

He’s grown accustomed to it. Grown used to the way his nerves burn when he touches her, the way his lungs scream for oxygen when he catches her scent.

He always wants, yet he never gets, and he’s so, so tired of wanting.

Just this once.

The reminder eases through him like a breeze, quelling the incessant pounding of his heart in his ears, the thin sheen of sweat settling itself over his skin.

His hand trembles when it dips into the pocket of his robes as he approaches the familiar set of lounges in front of the fireplace. He feels for his wand and tightens his hand around it, the wood biting into his skin, a sensation almost comforting in nature.

Just this once.

“Was wondering when you’d show,” her voice is warm and sleep-rough, a hazy melody that proves just as useful in easing his nerves. “Long day?”

“Something like that,” he murmurs. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, weighted with attrition for something he has yet to do.

She waits for him to sit down beside her, but instead he stays in place, hovering over the side of the couch.

He clears his throat, nerves stiffening his voice. “Do you think we could read in the Undercroft tonight?”

She looks at him perplexed, until her lips curl into a smile.

“Since when did you become such a rule breaker? Sebastian finally rubbing off on you?” She humors, stretching her sore limbs.

“I’d just prefer it. Change of…scenery.”

She snorts. “Change of scenery, huh?”

He nods sheepishly, cheeks burning. Change of scenery? Really, Ominis?

He can feel her staring at him, contemplating. He’s half-convinced she can hear the way his heart is nearly beating out of his chest.

“Please,” he adds for good measure.

His fingers find his wand again, tucked surreptitiously behind layers of fabric. He supposes he could cast it here, even if that isn’t part of the plan. The thought makes anxiety trickle up his skin. He doesn’t want to stray from the plan.

When she rises from her seat with an acquiescent sigh, his entire body sinks with relief.

“Alright, fine, let’s go…but we’ll have to be quiet.”

The walk to the Undercroft is spent in the silence of disillusionment spells and muffling charms. Inside the darkened cellar, with only the soft sound of her humming as she settles onto one of the old chaises, a flurry of second-thoughts numb his brain in white static.

Disgust settles itself like a boulder in his gut, the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat as he takes a seat beside her, as he considers over and over again what he’s about to do.

He can feel her thigh press against his when she shifts in her seat. It’s strangely grounding. He feels the taste rescind.

She’s so incredibly warm, so terribly close, that it buries any trepidations he holds deep into an untouchable part of himself, until he can think of nothing but the prospect of more of her skin on his, until desire overshadows any inkling of guilt he might possess.

The urge to touch, and taste, and caress, subjugates the contrite voice in his head that repeats a litany of you promised, you promised, you promised.

His nausea blends into something else as he quietly slips his wand from his pocket, and any vows he’s made to himself about never doing what he’s about to do, dissolves into inexistence as the spell passes through his lips in a whisper.

“Imperio.”

The incantation takes effect with such fluidity, with such little effort, that in that moment, despite all his years of fervent resistance, he has never felt more like a Gaunt.

He resists the urge to double over and be sick on the flagstone floor.

He can barely hear the sound of the book in her hands falling to the floor, nor his own wand slipping from his fingers with a dull clatter. The ringing in his ears is far too loud to allow it.

His core buzzes with the thrum of dark magic that washes over him, a mordant reminder of what exactly he’s done, one that he can feel impress itself on his very soul. He takes a fortifying breath.

Just this once.

“Turn to me.”

The command works over her immediately, and though he can’t see her, he can hear her shift in her seat to face him. He’s never been more grateful for his blindness than in that moment, that he can’t see the glazed-over appearance of her eyes, her vacant stare. He’s certain it would break him.

He shifts forward himself, and when he touches her for the first time with trembling hands, the incessant ringing in his ears ceases. The drove of self-reprehension comes to a halt, replaced by something starved, replaced by the instinct to take.

He drags his fingers unsteadily over the ridge of her cheekbone, traces the contours of her brows, down the bridge of her nose, the same way he’s done before only briefly in her sleep, though this time with more unabashed exploration.

The thrill of not having to be careful awakens something in him. He wants to commit every millimeter to memory.

His thumb brushes over the gentle arch of her cupid’s bow, then over the plush pillow that is her bottom lip.

He doesn’t even realize he’s been holding his breath until his lungs burn for oxygen. His hand takes hold of her jaw and he dips forward, so that his first inhale is made up of nothing but her, his nose pressed to the soft hair at her temple.

He tilts his head and lets his lips land on the smooth plane of her cheek. Her skin is warm and silky, just as he remembered from the brief bits of contact he’s allowed himself in the past. He lets out a contented sigh.

Slowly, patiently, he works himself up to his destination, planting tender kisses along her face, reveling in every little sensation, until he reaches the corner of her mouth.

Her mouth.

He’s almost convinced he’s dreaming.

He takes a shuddering breath and connects their lips the way he’s wanted to for an agonizingly long time.

If he’s ever known softness before, it’s incomparable to what he receives from her lips, from her face cupped in his hands.

He’s filled with the insatiable desire to know more, to drown in it, to suffocate on the feeling of her against him.

His tongue brushes over her bottom lip, tentative and a bit too cautious. He’s not exactly sure how to kiss her, but he notes rather morbidly that she won’t mind either way. It’s not like she’ll remember.

He tries again, experimenting, prodding at her lips softly at first, but she doesn’t part for him the way he expects her to, doesn’t grant him entrance. It’s… not right.

His brain blares with alarms in deafening repetition that it’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong.

She’s stiff against his lips, frigid and unmoving. It’s not how it should be. It’s not how he wants it to be. It’s askew and breaks him out of his fantasy and it makes him angry.

Makes his fingers dig too harshly into her skin, makes him crowd her against the armrest of the lounge and press his mouth to her more forcefully, as if he can brutalize the compliance out of her.

A whimper escapes her, a brief breach in her trance-like state, and he’s snapped out of his overwhelming frustration. He breaks the kiss and pants against her skin, the reminder of the power he has over her surging back.

“Kiss me.”

Relief oozes into him like the trickle of a downpouring stream, cooling his blood and letting him melt into the feeling of her lips finally moving against his. His touch retreats back to tenderness.

There’s a clumsy sort of uncertainty in the way his mouth moves against hers, an unpracticed mess of tongue and teeth. He doesn’t mind, doesn’t let himself dwell on the chagrin that is his first kiss.

It’s all he’s ever wanted with her. She tastes sweet on his tongue, the culmination of all his desires being fulfilled, and yet still, somehow, it’s not enough.

Even as he kisses her deeply, tenderly, until his lips feel raw and kiss-bruised, and there’s a delicious soreness in his jaw — he can’t shake that little, driving pain in his chest of want.

No, not of want. Of need.

There’s a part of him that he doesn’t quite understand, a part of him that aches for more without being conscious of just what more is.

He’s aware of it, though. He feels it in the tension pulling just below his navel, the heat pooling in his blood. He recognizes it in the depraved instinct to slip his hands up her blouse, to hike up her skirt, and— and—

He contemplates straying from the plan for the second time that night.

All he wanted was to kiss her, just this once, just this once— but as he tips her back onto the cushions, as he hovers over her with his lips never leaving hers, he realizes that isn’t true.

He lets himself sink against her. Her body molds with his, presses against his own, plush and warm and indescribably perfect. He pins her down with his weight—even if he’s aware he doesn’t have to, he finds some sick sense of security in knowing she can’t escape.

He wants more.

He slots himself between her legs and tugs one of her thighs around his waist. It’s almost too much, his breathing scattered and uneven.

He wants more.

Even if he isn’t sure what more entails, he possesses some idea as his hips begin to rut against hers of their own accord. The whimper he lets out makes him burn with shame.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck to hide his mortification. He inhales, until the dizzying scent of her perfume numbs his brain.

He’s subtly aware of the fact he’s grinding right against her knickers, her skirt bunched up haphazardly at her hips to accommodate him between her legs. He tries not to think about it.

His thoughts feel hazy as he contemplates the fact that only a thin piece of cotton separates her cunt from rubbing right against the front of his trousers. It would be so easy to—

He can’t.

He forces himself to keep his hands above her waist, far from temptation. He doesn’t force them not to wander, though.

Just this once, he repeats, as his fingers hover over the front placket of her blouse. He muffles his breathing with his lips pressed to her throat.

He trails his hand up to her collar and unclasps the first button with trembling fingers. He tries not to think about it, either.

He concentrates on how she tastes when he dips his tongue out to lick a stripe just under her jaw, and for a moment he doesn’t care how lewd it is, doesn’t care how utterly debased he’s acting.

Her breath hitches, just the subtlest change in pitch, but it’s enough for him to pretend that she wants this. That she wants him.

Little, brass buttons clatter to the stone floor of the Undercroft in quiet clinks, byproduct of his impatience, of his self-restraint slipping from his fingers in the hasty manner he undresses her.

The same hasty manner he fumbles with his belt—before he can think too long about what he’s about to do—until he’s gripping his weeping cock and biting down on his lip to stop the shameful noises threatening to escape his throat.

He palms himself shakily, remorse adling his unsteady movements, while he tries to work the courage to actually touch her. It isn’t long before his hand is slick with his arousal, and the skin of her neck is damp with his heavy breathing.

His hand hovers over the bare skin of her midriff, fingers twitching with the desire to sink them into her soft flesh, to trace over her curves and memorize the contours he’s only felt in daydreams.

His voice is raw when he commands her, riddled with shame. “Ask—ask me to touch you.”

She obeys in a whisper. “Please, touch me.”

It’s wrong, it’s all wrong, it’s not—

“Ask me to touch you and say my name.”

“Touch me,” she breathes, and he can feel the vibration of her voice where his mouth is still latched onto the base of her throat. “Please, Ominis.”

There.

His name on her lips strikes his nerves on fire, lights the very blood in his veins alight. He caves.

Her skin is warm under his fingertips. He can feel her heartbeat where he presses his palm to her sternum, a frantic pounding— undoubtedly a reflection of her subconscious beneath the influence of the spell.

He doesn’t allow himself to feel guilty, he can’t. Not now.

Instead, he indulges. Pushes the sheer material of her chemise the rest of the way up, until it’s over her chest, and he can feel.

Her nipples pebble as they come in contact with the cool air of the Undercroft and he runs his hand over the stiffened bud, rolls it between his thumb and index.

She’s overwhelmingly soft. It disgusts him how badly he wants to defile her for it.

He notes wryly how revoltingly weak he is, if all it took was some poorly-placed obsession for him to do away with every last principle he’s spent the better part of his life cultivating. How easily an Unforgivable spilled from his lips at the prospect of feeling hers.

He’ll scrub his skin raw afterwards in the shower in a desperate attempt to forget all of this, he promises himself. He won’t do this again, he can’t—

Just this once.

His head sinks to her chest and he murmurs against her skin, “Again— Say, say it again.”

“Please, Ominis.”

He sighs in blissful relief. “Yes.”

He counts the rows of her sternum with a drag of his tongue. Her chest is already sticky with his saliva when he takes hold of his cock again, the dripping tip sullying her untouched skin.

His hips rut into his own hand and the Undercroft fills with the sounds of his quiet grunts. He squeezes his eyes shut and imagines it’s her he’s thrusting into as he fucks his fist, his other hand groping blindly, fondling and squeezing her supple flesh until he’s sure he’s left marks in his carelessness.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, because he likes to pretend it’s real. “So–so good, angel.”

She lets out the softest whimper, and it’s enough to make his jaw fall slack, a pleasured groan escaping his parted lips.

He presses his forehead to hers. “I love you. I love you so much. Tell me— tell me you love me. Please say it.”

“I love you.”

She obeys too fast, her voice too vacant. It’s unnatural. He doesn’t care. Those three little words are enough to wrench a strangled sort of sound out of his chest.

“Again,” he begs, voice hoarse, and he’s only distantly aware of the wet tracks running down his cheeks. His thrusts are sloppy and frantic, so close to his undoing. “Say my name.”

“I love you, Ominis.”

“Fuck,” his voice cracks, his head dropping to her shoulder.

He’s pushed over the edge with a sob, painting her stomach and chest in ribbons of milky white. An endless litany of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry pours from his lips as he shudders through his climax.

Shame sears through him like fiendfyre and he moans his forgiveness on a cry against her lips, kisses her tenderly as if it’s an act of retribution.

His hand finds her stomach, his palm rubbing into the incriminating mess of his seed on her skin, and the satisfaction he feels with it only serves to amplify his self-disgust.

He kneads the sticky flesh beneath his fingertips, as if he can make it so that even after the scourgify, some part of him will be there, a memory only he’s aware of. He doesn’t want to let her go, he can’t— he—

He does so anyway. He forces himself off of her on unsteady legs and tucks himself into his trousers.

He cleans her with all the care in the world, as if his tenderness will somehow make up for how crudely he’s violated her trust tonight.

Everytime his hand brushes over her skin as he redresses her, he repeats to himself that it was just this once. Brands it into his brain, lets that contrite voice repeat it over and over again until he might go mad.

He takes her back to the common room and sets her down gently into that same armchair she was waiting for him in at the beginning of the night. Brushes a lingering kiss to her forehead that stretches for a moment too long.

He mutters a reluctant finite incantatem under his breath, pairs it with a heavy sleeping spell, and retreats to his own dorm before he can fall to temptation again.

Only then, behind the drawn curtains of his four-poster, skin still prickling with the memory of every way he’d touched her, is he made certain of something he’s been trying desperately to deny all evening.

This was the first time, but it certainly won’t be the last.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt x mc #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #hogwarts legacy fan fiction

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hellenhighwater · 1 year

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Hey, sorry if this has been asked/answered already and I missed it, but I was hoping it was okay to ask; I just watched the post of you releasing the birds into their aviary and I was wondering where their baby went?

Adopted! Truancy went to someone from tumblr, actually, I'll let her tag herself if she wants to.

Ringneck doves do get territorial, though they're such wimpy babies that sometimes people fail to recognize their fights for what they are. (Males will peck and wing chop but females have been known to have wars of attrition where they literally starve an opponent out of an ideal nesting spot. ) So it's best to adopt away the babies, since I don't have the room for multiple nest territories when they're indoors for the winter. This also helps prevent inbreeding.

Arson and Larceny have actually had a bunch of babies, and they've even got grandbabies out there! Their kids are Forgery, Fraud, Joyriding, Jaywalking, Vehicular Manslaughter, and Truancy. All of them went to happy homes where they can have the space they need.

#i feel like I'm forgetting a pair...

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racefortheironthrone · 3 months

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Which federal laws and policies would you get rid of or modify in order to help the American labor movement.

I was looking through the labor law tag on my blog and your ask reminded me I haven't actually written a comprehensive post about this on Tumblr. (Indeed, you'd have to go back to my old, old policy blog from 2009...it's been a while.)

One silver lining of the Sisyphean struggle to restore American labor law that's been going on since the 1970s is that the labor movement and their allies in Congress, academia, think tanks, and progressive media have been thinking through this very issue of "what reforms would make a real difference" for a long time. I'm not going to say it's a solved question, but the research literature is pretty robust.

For the purposes of this post, I'm going to focus on the three most recent reform packages: the Employee Free Choice Act that was the main vehicle during the Obama years, Bernie Sanders' Workplace Democracy Act (which was introduced repeatedly between 1992 and 2018), and the Richard L. Trumka Protecting the Right to Organize Act (PRO Act) that is the current proposal of the Democratic legislative caucuses. There's going to be quite a bit of overlap between these proposals, because it's very much an iterative process where allies in the same movement are trading ideas with one another and trying to stay abreast of new developments, but I'll try to tease out some of the similarities and differences.

EFCA

While EFCA contained a number of provisions that sought to close various loopholes in U.S labor law, the three main provisions largely target the flaws that have made it extremely difficult to win a union through the National Labor Relations Act process devised in 1935 that has turned into a Saw-style gauntlet thanks to the professionalization of union-busting and the Federalist Society's strategy of death-by-a-thousand-cuts:

"Card check." Probably the most common pattern of union-busting in the workplace today is a war of attrition by management waged by an industry of specialized law firms. Generally what happens is that the union files for election with a super-majority of ~70% workers having signed union cards, then management delays the vote as long as possible to give their hired "union-avoidance" firm to systematically intimidate, surveil, propagandize, and divide workers, up to and including illegally firing pro-union workers pour encouragez les autres. Over several months, what happens is that the initial 70% of pro-union support starts to erode as workers decide it's just too dangerous to stick their necks out, until the vote happens and the union loses either by a squeaker or a landslide.

Card check short-circuits this process by just saying that if the union files with a majority of cards, you skip the election and the union is recognized. And for all the pearl-clutching by the right, this is actually how labor law works in many democratic countries, because the idea of a fair election that lets management participate is an oxymoron.

Arbitrated first contract. In the event that enough workers keep the faith and actually vote for a union, management's next move is to draw out collective bargaining for a year or more. After a year, the original vote is no longer considered binding and employers can push for a "decertification" vote, which they usually win because workers either give up hope or change jobs. So this provision says that if the two sides can't reach an agreement on a first contract within 120 days, a Federal arbitrator will just impose one, so that at least for two years there will be a union contract no matter what management wants.

Strengthening enforcement. As I said above, one of the problems with existing labor law is that there are basically no penalties for management knowingly breaking the law; companies literally just budget in a line-item and do it anyway. This provision would allow unions to file an injunction against employers for unfair labor practices or ULPs (at present, injunctions are only required for violations done by unions), and would add triple back pay for illegal firings and fines of $20,000 for each ULP. This would make union-busting much more expensive, because companies routinely rack up hundreds and hundreds of them during a campaign.

Workplace Democracy Act

Sanders' proposal includes the main proposals from EFCA, and adds a bunch of additional reforms, like mis-classifying workers as independent contractors, banning captive audience meetings, making "joint employers" liable for labor law violations by franchisees, legalizing secondary boycotts, and requiring employers to report to the NLRB on all anti-union expenditures during a campaign and barring anyone convicted of an unfair labor practice from being hired for anti-union campaigns and making "union-avoidance" consultants liable for fines for ULPs (which would kill the "union-avoidance" industry, because they commit ULPs for a living).

PRO Act

The PRO Act is very much an updating of the previous efforts we've talked about. It bans captive audience meetings, allows for secondary strikes and boycotts, massively increases fines and allows for compensatory damages, ends mis-classification, speeds up the election process, etc.

It also contains a couple new and ambitious proposals:

it allows unions to sue management in court instead of having to complain to the NLRB, which opens management up to a very expensive legal proceeding and discovery.

it bans "right-to-work" as established by the Taft-Hartley Act.

it requires that any worker who's fired for pro-union activity be immediately reinstated while their unfair labor practice process or civil lawsuit is going through the process. This would be enormous just on its own, because it changes the entire veto structure of illegal firing. As it stands, employers fire people and maybe maybe have to pay some back wages in a couple years when the worker has found another job and is unlikely to come back. This would reverse the balance of power, such that the worker is immediately back and other workers can see that they can speak up without getting fired, which makes illegal firings a giant waste of time and money for management.

In terms of stuff that's not on this list that I would add, I would say that an enormous difference could be made by simply making it illegal for management to lock-out their workers or hire scabs. You do that, and unions can win almost every strike.

#labor law #labor law reform #labor movement #trade unions #unions #union movement #public policy

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