#but if you get those things right then the rest is fairly subjective

[brawlmetaknight]

to be honest meta knight has been portrayed in so many different ways over the various games, manga, novels, anime, smash etc that you can basically Build A Meta Knight and end up with something completely different than somebody else but all the traits are still somehow official lol.

[okkotsuus]

Hey, just requesting. How r u? Can I request... Barou Shouei, Karasu Tabito, Shidou Ryusei, Raichi Jingo x GN! Ahodere! Reader (Ahodere: Someone who's very friendly, kind-hearted, and high-spirited, but completely stupid when it comes to romance. They're super dense and usually mistake romantic gestures towards them as something else. Matter of fact, they can even be oblivious to their own feelings. They're like Bakaderes, but Bakaderes are more naive and childish.) Genre: crack, #Save[Various], Reader is as dumb as a rock when it comes to romance - [Various] gets encouraged by their friends (Any group of Blue Lockers of your choice) to finally make a move on Reader (or they encourage themselves with their friends watching). After practice, they finally flirt with Reader. Fairly easy right? Not when your crush is denser than a rock. It's honestly embarrassing to watch.

DENSITY (bllk) !

features: barou shouei. karasu tabito. shidou ryusei.

contents: pining. very fluffy. crack. dense reader. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 karasu. i'm down bad for karasu. shidou is his own warning tbh.

notes: i'm good, how are you? i got lazy and didn't do raichi but i hope i did this the way you wanted, thank you for requesting :))

barou shouei

it was no surprise that barou was incredibly hesitant when it came to romance. he was possibly just as dense as you when it came to the subject.

if it weren't for bachira noticing the way that his gaze would stick to you, how little he shouted in your direction: it would have gone unnoticed. all it took was just a week's worth of constant pestering from his teammates to make him nearly start clawing at the walls.

he was so pissed that they had something to hold over him, someone to torment him with. meanwhile, you were so easily unaffected, it made him question if you even held any affection for him.

but barou is not a doubting man, he doesn't get nervous over something as simple as the idea of being rejected. so, begrudgingly, he ends up walking your way after a long practice: wanting to just get it over with.

a few 'woops' and cheers sound behind him, likely bachira and isagi. he only flips them the birdo over his shoulder before stopping in front of you.

"hey, y/n. go out with me." his voice is slightly rough, eyes narrowed. he may never find himself getting nervous over the most simple things, but barou swears his heart speeds up just slightly.

your eyes widen as your head tilts to the side, brows pinching in confusion. "oh? i'd love to hang out some time! shall we invite the rest of the team and maybe go bowling?" the words nearly have him letting out a shout, eye twitching.

he sighs, gritting his teeth. barou can feel the entire team staring him down, too far away to actually hear the words but still watching. "no, not with those peasants. just us." the man grumbles, the slightest hue of pink rising to the tips of his ears as his eyes hurriedly look off to the side.

then, your eyes widened, a smile crossing your face. "am i getting a surprise for something??" you just sound so damn excited that he can't help but internally groan.

strong hands grab your shoulders, hauling you closer. barou's face is dangerously close, his brows are furrowed and a vein pops out of his forehead. "dammit you moron, i'm hitting on you..!"

"but you're only holding me, not hitting..?" he lets out a loud exasperated shout, turning and storming off while the team watches in awe.

it seems the barou will have to try again another day, he ran out of confidence patience.

karasu tabito

karasu has never been one to have trouble with finding someone, much less with being able to attract them. he was a pretty boy, tall and lean, even had a talent to boot.

but you, you evaded his charms so easily. it made him feel like a damn fool. which leads to him ranting to otoya in the locker rooms after practice.

"i swear man, it's like they don't even see me as a man, ugh..." he trails off with a sigh, eyes closing as his head leans back against the lockers. sweat drips down his face before his eyes open to look back at his friend.

otoya lets out a wicked cackle, amused by his best friend's misery. "then ya gotta do somethin' real bold, make 'em remember!" he offers, smirking as karasu's eyes widen like he had an epiphany.

the taller boy jumps up, shouting a thanks as he rushes out of the locker room. he nearly tumbles over as he skids to a stop in front of you, chest heaving.

karasu backs you up against a wall, eyes narrowing as a smooth smirk splits his pretty pink lips. "wanna get out of here, angel..?" his voice is like honey, thick and sweet.

but you don't even flush, no sense of surprise or nervousness, just that same dumb smile. "are you getting tired of the facility? i'd love to show you around the town at the foot of the mountain!" your words are chipper, but there's no sense of truly understanding what he had actually meant in them.

he swears his heart stops for a moment, eye twitching as his mouth hangs open in shock. but he decides to double down, hands resting against your waist as he leans ever-closer.

"no, but i'm awfully tired of you playing coy..." there's a slight rumble to his voice, convinced you were playing hard-to-get. karasu didn't believe that someone could ever be this dense. especially not with how obvious he's made things.

but you just blink at him, lips parting into an 'o'. he feels his heart stop as he realized you really are just that dumb, he would have to literally spell it out for you.

"i want you, in every sense of the word."

shidou ryusei

ryusei had never been one to falter when chasing the things he wanted. he has never backed down. for the longest time, all he'd desired had been soccer: scoring and winning. but that was until his eyes saw you.

like a predator he found himself observing your every moment, quieter than before. he lingered around you while in blue lock, as if someone would snatch you away.

every goal her scored has pink irises flitting in your directing, a wicked smirk parting his lips when he hears your praises. soccer had never felt so euphoric before.

he begins to crave the feeling, like an addict. ryusei scores goal after goal, getting hits from the little gasps of awe you give him so generously. he finds his cheeks flushed hot pink, eyes nearly rolling back into his head.

it's at that moment he decides he can't stand the thought of ever being without that sensation. so, after practice, only with a few wishes of his failure from rin, he decides to strike.

ryusei finds you easily, as if he was attuned to it. he doesn't introduce himself, just wraps his arms around you from behind, chin propping against your shoulder. "i have never wanted to score anything more than a goal, until you pranced so happily into my life..."

your head tilts back to look at him, a confused look on your face. you show no signs of fluster, expression completely neutral. "thank you?" your voice is perplexed, but still warm.

in that second ryusei realize how much he desires to see your facade crumble. how he wants to see you break and finally realize his intentions. he years to see your face painted in red with wide eyes locked on him: and only him.

and he never loses sight of his goals.

okkotsuus 24

[fadelbison]

Branded Pairing Heteronormativity and the Subtle ways that First and Khaotung Spill Outside Those Outlines

Right off the bat I'm going to absolve myself of all culpability by saying that this is a solicited opinion so all anon hate can go to @kattyangel 🤣. The second thing is that this is an opinion that will talk about very nuanced subjective topics like heteronormative standards and conventional attractiveness in a country I'm not even from so go into it knowing that even subtle shifts in worldview can change the way we perceive these things. My only claim to fame here is that fan service is my hyperfixation and I have watched at least couples compilation videos of all GMM branded pairs but for the vast majority of them have watched shows/vlogs/interviews fairly extensively. So without any further ado let's get into what the connection is between First's height and his pairing's inability to perform heteronormativity well. A branded pair has two main ways of connecting to heteronormativity. One is via the individual's connection to their audience which at this point we know is majority female with some degree of romantic interest in men. Second, is via the dynamics of the couple itself.

For example, the ideal pairing is someone who's individual unit BOTH seem like they are interested in women but when put together can also believably fall into a 'top' and 'bottom' role. The categories of 'top' and 'bottom' here follow from the yaoi 'seme' and 'uke' narrative traditions but its less about who penetrates or is being penetrated and more along the lines of who's 'the wife and who's the husband' which is just a confusing mix of relative closeness to femininity, perceived dominance and certain physical features like height/resting bitch face and skin color.

The vast majority of branded pairs fall under this paradigm at GMM: GeminiFourth, TayNew, BrightWin, JoongDunk, PondPhuwin, ForceBook and the recently officially divorced Ohmnanon.

If the individuals have a strong connection to heteronormativity themselves, but fail to perform it with each other then they tend to fail like PerthChimon. So what happens when individuals within the unit aren't that straight to begin with? If at least one can perform traditional masculinity then they're in the clear! Famously, OffGun are husband and wife like no other and I hope they and Off's voodoo dolls of him and Gun prosper for the length of their lives. This format of pairings is not that common in GMM but litter the industry quite a bit, Zeenunew and MaxNat are pairings I'm quite familiar with that follow this.

What happens when both have low affinity towards traditional masculinity (especially in the way they interact with fans) or they're a little too queer in their dynamic for heteronormativity? Well that leaves you with *my* favorite pairings: EarthMix and FirstKhaotung But they're challenged in slightly different ways. EarthMix's primary dilemma comes from the fact that they're very likely actually dating and gay couples sometimes just won't have a heteronormative dynamic. Mix has always rebelled against being 'bottom' and he's usually the one refusing to play this game. Earth on the other hand just with his natural old man tendencies still fits into the top/husband role well while Mix can be pigeonholed into bratty wife/bottom when push comes to shove. But oh my poor sweet First, born with the personality of a man who's at least 5 inches shorter than him and obsessed with his idiot best friend who hated being the good little wife during his PoddKhao era so much that he really came into Firstkhao with his arms swinging like 'never again'. First and Khaotung have their personalities and aesthetics switched. Khaotung is both the more effeminate of the two and also the more dominant. If you've been following their dynamic since The Eclipse then you will know immediately what I'm talking about. So much of The Eclipse fan service felt like they were playing out top and bottom in reverse and then just remembering that First is indeed Too Tall for this to ever work lmao. I'm struggling to think of a single pair other than PerthSaint where the top was shorter let alone a full 4 inches. I mean fans nearly staged a coup at an event to have them renamed Khaofirst and I feel like they had come so close to convincing First too 😂 They've changed a lot now and Khaotung has cooled it, maybe to be more helpful to First but primarily because I think he's discovered that being the bottom in this dynamic comes with added benefits of being a sugar baby princess who gets waited on hand and foot. But First is also a sugar baby princess which is why he says things like 'I'm trying to be cool' or doing something macho and then immediately undercutting himself with a nervous little 'Was that cool?' or whining at fans to stop flirting with Khaotung instead of having a possessive lover dialogue like Phuwin's little 'you can flirt with him but he needs my permission to flirt with you'. First is performing machismo slightly worse than the 'bottom' of a different pair like what can I say askdjkfhdjh

Firstkhao are doing husband and wife well on stage nowadays but I think in less practiced formats they will revert to their original dynamic and First's 'top' persona breaks often. They hit a besotted wifeman equilibrium for First sometime during only friends and that kind of works for them both and I think they're trying to stay there for the most part. But that's what people who like First and Khaotung like. A vast majority of lesbians fall under the category of besotted wifeman so I mean it's really working out for me. It's just that sometimes it's a little painful seeing First try so hard to be more like Kant in RL and I'm just like babygirl please you're fine your friend over there looks like he likes getting fucked in the ass no matter what you do but alas 😔 Meanwhile every time Khaotung acts like a naive little helpless baby it feels like he's taken another step towards nirvana.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Roosterwhale behind the cut; “we are so pleased with this match". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . what,” the scientist says, and Kara ignores him to revel in the perfect synchronicity that Kon and Match outright throw themselves at each other with. That's just very satisfying, as a beta. Especially as the beta who led this alpha to this omega. 

As the beta who led her only sem-zahm packmate to the kyn-tul who’s been waiting so long for him to come and let him be a good bitch for him. 

Kon and Match crash together and Match immediately tries to rip Kon’s throat out, which Kara considers very restrained of him under the circumstances, and Kon smashes him into the floor to keep from getting his throat ripped out, and Match hisses viciously and backhands him across the jaw. Kon snarls back down at him and Match claws at his face and Kon bares all his teeth, and Match’s breath–hitches, very noticeably. 

And then he tries to bite Kon’s throat out, which is also very restrained of him under the circumstances, Kara thinks. 

“About goddamn time,” the scientist mutters. “Subject Match will deal with this. You three, get the–” 

“Uh, sir . . .” one of the guards interrupts him warily, the other guards looking somewhere between confused and alarmed. Kara assumes it has something to do with them actually being combat-trained and therefore capable of noticing things like, oh, body language and intent and specifically how Kon and Match are fighting each other, and the equally specific ways they very much aren’t fighting each other. 

Like–very, very specifically, on both grounds. 

“Don't interrupt me!” the scientist snaps at the guard, who grimaces. “Call the collections team and tell Lab 4 to prep for a new sample set. Vivisection or necropsy, whichever we get.” 

Didn't even say “autopsy”, Kara reflects idly. Well, she already knew the asshole deserved this. 

 He deserves much worse than this, in fact, for keeping Match all locked up down here in a cell instead of letting him have what a kyn-tul on their cycle deserves. 

And for keeping her packmate’s kyn-tul from him, he deserves even worse. 

She is not in any way whatsoever going to even pity the Agenda, no. 

Kon and Match are wrestling more than anything else right now–well, as much as “if Kon fucks up Match will murder him” can pass for “wrestling”, anyway–and Kara remains impressed with Match’s restraint. She cannot imagine what her father would’ve done if her mother had left him alone in . . . how many heats must Match’ve had by now, if he presented about when Kon did? 

Kara does a few conversions to Earthling calendars and some quick math in her head. 

. . . actually, she needs something stronger than “good bitch” to go with here, because any Kryptonian-raised omega would’ve gelded Kon for putting them through this. 

The El packs owes Match such nice nesting materials. And his pick of places for nesting in, too, up to and including all their own personal homes and bedrooms and laps. And also literally every single thing he ever wants when he’s in heat or pre-heat for the entire rest of his natural-born life. 

She should probably text Kal and her other self about collecting some of those things after they get out of here, she thinks. Once Match has gotten fucked into a more talkative mood, anyway, and can tell her what said things are. 

Though the nesting materials she is definitely already making plans for. 

Match slams Kon into the floor hard enough to crater it–hard enough to shake the room–and Kon struggles underneath him clumsily, clearly overwhelmed and trying to keep control of things he doesn't actually need to be in control of right now. Kara obviously understands why, given he's never done this before, but . . . 

“K-Kara, I . . .” Kon pants from where he’s pinned and struggling underneath Match, his eyes flared wide and pupils almost as dilated as they can get. He keeps most of the alpha out of his voice, which is honestly fairly impressive too. “I feel . . . I wanna . . .” 

“Don’t pay attention to her!” Match hisses down at him as he grabs his throat and starts to choke him, leaning all his weight and an obvious amount of muscle into it, and Kon grabs onto his wrists with a strangled wheeze. “I’m right here!” 

“I told you, Kon, you have my permission,” Kara reminds him patiently. Again, she understands why he's trying to keep a rein on his alpha, because he's never gotten to not keep a rein on his alpha, but that's the literal opposite of what the current situation calls for. “Don't you know what your Match needs from you? Don't you know how bad your Match wants you to give him what he needs from you?” 

Kon makes another strangled sound, and Match looks away from him just long enough to glare at her, baring his omega teeth in an alpha sneer–

Baring his neck, and leaving it unprotected. 

He doesn’t know what he's doing, doing that. 

But Kon's alpha does. 

Kon’s eyes snap into full eclipses and he lunges up and throws his arms around Match as he buries his teeth in his exposed throat with a full-on alpha snarl, and Match–well, Match doesn’t have irises to eclipse, but his eyes still flare the exact same way Kon’s did even as his body reflexively stiffens–as whatever these stupid humans taught him makes his body reflexively stiffen–and then, as its actually honest reaction, just melts completely down into Kon’s teeth. 

Because of course it does. Because Match is a good bitch who Kara can very clearly smell just slicked up enough to soak his hole over that bite, and is willing to let Kon prove that he’s a good alpha. 

Kon drags Match down and rolls them over and slams the other to the floor flat on his back, and Match’s expression goes all dreamy and heat-drunk and he tries to smash Kon’s temple in with a fist. Kon digs his teeth in harder and catches Match’s wrists, and Match makes a breathy, omega-soft sound and then brings a knee up into his gut, and they both shove down and claw at and cling to each other. 

Kara watches contentedly as Kon and Match thrash and struggle and crack the floor underneath themselves, all hisses and snarls and gasped-out little grunts and moans. They’re a little clumsy about it, but it’s their first time together, and she still can’t help finding it sort of adorable how their pheromones are all tangled up and smell like–well, a candy she’ll never taste again and a roaring fire, but also the quiet intimacy of a human bonfire off alone in the dark and the kind of sticky-soft-melty marshmallows that humans roast on them. 

. . . or toast, maybe? Maybe it’s toast, she doesn’t really know. Mostly she just burned hers to charcoal, the times Kal got her to try it. 

It’s a nice scent, though. Kara likes the thought of it all intermingled with and absorbed into their pack scent: the tangled mess of a compatible alpha and omega, all mixed up in each other ‘til even their own packmates won’t be able to tell the difference between their scents half the time. It might break her heart a little every now and then, but so does everything that’s ever mattered to her, from her parents to Krypton to Kal to their pack to finding out this was even a option. 

For now, though, it’s just a submission bite and not actually a mating one–obviously, because Kon isn’t the kind of bastard who’d ever force something like that–so for now their scents are still separate enough to recognize as separate scents. Kon’s teeth are still in Match’s throat, and he and Match are still struggling on the floor, and all tangled up like this they smell warm and melty and burningly horny, which is both a good sign for their compatibility and also zero percent surprising at this point. Especially since their “struggling” is increasingly less and less about the “struggle” part and more and more about getting their hands all over each others’ bodies and dragging and grinding them both together. 

And maybe about one other thing, Kara can’t help but think when she notices Kon fist a hand in the symbol on the chest of Match’s suit and shred it off him. She understands the temptation, with some other pack’s crest sitting there. 

Also now Match is showing significantly more skin, which seems like a very Kon kind of solution to the problem but is also an undeniably effective one. 

Kon pulls back just enough from Match’s throat to snarl down at him, his fistful of torn emblem held balled against the other’s chest, and Match stares up at him with eyes that can’t eclipse, that already look like moons anyway, and then–very obviously, and very deliberately–tips his head back against the floor and pushes his chest up against Kon’s clenched fist, fully displaying–and exposing–his throat and pectorals to him in the process. 

Rao, that’s the kind of submission display most omegas wouldn’t even do in porn, Kara thinks, barely resisting the urge to cover the nearest guard’s eyes for propriety’s sake. 

Well–Match doesn’t know any different, does he. He just knows what his omega is telling him it wants. 

And Kon, presumably, knows what his alpha wants, but is just holding himself still and frozen above him; above that exposed offering of a posture from an omega who probably doesn’t even really understand why he’s doing it or what it really means; from a compatible omega who very obviously differentiated to be specifically compatible with him. 

“Aw, I knew you liked each other,” Kara hums approvingly, mostly to confuse and stress out the Agenda’s idiot lackeys even more than they already are. They deserve a lot worse, frankly. And also, Kon and Match are stuttered to a stop and do both need and deserve to hear some encouragement. “The House of El is very pleased to see it.” 

“What the hell are you talking about, you alien freak?!” the scientist demands, visibly sweating from nervous tension and struggling to regain his composure. Kara doesn’t bother looking at him, but bares her teeth sweetly all the same. 

“Come on, Kon, give your Match what he needs,” she coaxes lightly, and Kon starts panting harder again, his own chest just shy of outright heaving. “He’s so angry all the time, isn’t he? So unsatisfied. Doesn’t he need someone to treat him right?” 

“I really . . .” Kon chokes, a shudder going all the way down his spine and to his respective grips on Match’s wrists. “I really . . . Kara.” 

“Doesn’t he smell so good, Kon?” she asks, just a little more coaxing in her tone–and her pheromones, obviously. “Isn’t it just how you’ve been waiting for him to smell?” 

Kon makes a strangled sound, and she hears Match’s teeth grind together. They’re both still stuck in their standstill, neither taking their eyes off each other or moving to either accept that offering or retract it. 

So Match doesn’t want to stop, and Kon doesn’t know how to start, and again: they don’t know how this goes, but Kara does. 

“Relax, Kon,” she says, dropping her voice and pheromones both into soothing notes. Betas soothing anxious or overwhelmed or overemotional alphas and omegas through their cycles is as natural as cycles themselves. “Go with it. Your body just wants you to sympathy-cycle for your Match. Wants to put you in condition to take care of your Match. So let yourself go. Give him what he needs. It's alright.” 

“Subject Match!” the scientist snaps sharply, his voice just barely avoiding cracking. “Kill Superboy! Kill him now!” 

“Little late for that idea, don’t you think?” asks Kara, who is very much aware that Kon now smells like a Rao-damned forest fire to Kryptonian senses.

[thejockout]

Subject Diaries #0.5 - Jockout the Subject, Part 2

(okay this is the last edging post of this series lol)

Last time I discussed my history/beliefs around masculinisation and erotic TF hypnosis, just to give a foundation of how I think about this stuff.

NOW to get into the slightly juicier details; what am I into, and what have I achieved so far with hypnosis?

WELL. What I'm into is an interesting question; and it's changed a lot in the last 2-3 years. If you'd asked me then what I was into, the answer was a fairly limited range of hypnosis: I was into "dumb jock" style brainwashing... and not much else. I didn't do a lot with either sub/dom-coded files, and had yet to discover several of my major kinks! It's kind of weird looking back at how little I used to be into, tbh. But I feel like that's often the way with kinks, they kinda spread over time.

For hypnosis, my current core interests are the following:

Masculinisation - specifically shit like changes in media consumption, physical mannerisms like manspreading or gait, and attitude adjustments. This blurs the line with the next point, but really just covers the whole gamut of a "bro" or "jock" type personality, and is the primary thing I've been into for years.

Dumbing Down - this was a kink I was very on again/off again with for a while before finding my balls and embracing it wholeheartedly. Like many subs, I used to really fear being "Permanently Dumbed Down" and losing skills and traits I need for work/my ambitions. But that's not a realistic fear and not really how hypnosis works, so now I embrace it pretty wholeheartedly. Nothing hotter than coming out of trance unable to spell or think straight. I love seeing the changes in my communication that come from it, and the actual feeling of hypnosis-induced brain fog. (And, being seen as a dumbass is a big kink too, and a nice ongoing goal.) Also included here is the whole subcategory of like, wanting to be malleable and easily hypnotisable, wanting to be someone who drops like a stone and is super impacted by suggestion. I've got some friends who come to mind when I talk about that, and it's always hot to see how easily they sink.

Corruption - this is sort of a broader, underpinning kink to the rest of the stuff I'm into; but it's a desire I have to want to be changed, to have someone coy and sly and sneaky manipulate me into changing in ways most would consider "for the worse." Making me dumber, more single-minded, more narcissistic, more self-indulgent. Fuck, bro. I get off on the idea of someone making me into their personal monster... especially if it goes a little too far from their POV and they can't walk it back. This underpinning desire for corruption is sort of what fuels my love of Dumbing Down and, in recent years, super Dom-coded Toxic Alpha type hypno generally. It's play I think you need to be careful with, but I've been having a good time so far and don't think I'd have ever started making files like Brute if I hadn't gone in that direction myself.

I listen to files outside these three themes, but generally they need to have at least one for me to be into them, and the best tick all three boxes.

I briefly listed a few files I'd listened to a bunch in my previous Diaries post; those being Jack Drago's Masculine Conditioning series, Avis' Sapiens general catalog, and Rigsby's Absolute Jock. I've probably listened to 100s of hours of both the MC-series and Avis' work. My time on Absolute Jock was a looot lower, but tis the best of the old guard of jock files on WarpMyMind. Overall, it's a lot of time to have dedicated to this kinda hypno! So you'd expect to see some results, right?

...Yeeeahhh, well, I'm still kind of a Work In Progress on that front. I have seen results, but I held myself back with anxiety and overthinking (about hypnosis) for years of this, so I've really only started to show change in the last year or so. That being said, the years of repeated conditioning have done a number on me lol.

EFFECTS I'VE SEEN

Successful Media Brainwashing - I did the unthinkable and successfully made myself a sports fan via hypnosis. It's kinda weird. For years I really struggled to even get through a game; then with hypnosis, I gradually started to just get suuper horny when I watched sports instead, which wasn't really any better because I'd just jerk off and lose interest. But sometime in the last two years, I kinda just got into it gradually and now watch for authentic, general interest. This was a real pipe dream at 17 when I envied how all the jock-types in my class could be totally absorbed and single-minded watching or playing a game, but I ended up getting there in the end! Not American so don't watch American Football/basketball/baseball or whatever, but I like rugby/hurling/F1 ✌️I credit this to Jack Drago's work, specifically Files 2 and 4 of the MC series; Manly Media Bubble and Male Oriented Interests.

General Personality Change - this is a WIP suggestion, but it's been interesting seeing myself change over the last 12 months especially. I've become a lot more dominant, confident, cocky, and even self-centered especially in online kink type contexts. IRL, I've just become more dominant and less willing to take shit; but that's only ever a good thing. It's interesting Because the nature of this kind of change, which happens so slowly over time, is that it can be difficult to look back and see the points where you used to behave differently. But sometimes like... especially since doing Douchebag-type files, sometimes I'll criticise someone or make fun of something and get a surprised reaction from a friend who wasn't expecting me to take it that far. And it always makes me feel a little good to surprise them in that way, to violate their expectations of how Nice I should be. I'm always Nice to them, and to anyone decent, but you've really gotta make me WANT to treat you well to get that now. Some people will read this and feel annoyed, or roll their eyes, but I kinda don't care. It's what I'm into. It's what I've GOTTEN into. (It's all Avis' fault really tbh.)

Libido Increase - this was a slow creeping change overtime, but went from getting off maybe 1x a day/5x a week or so to probably getting off 3x a day currently. Got a lot better at thinking with my dick and am super easy to make horny, which helps feed into the next suggestion on the list;

Dumbing Down - this is the suggestion I've had the MOST recent breakthrough with. For the month of January, I listened daily to @hyphyphurray's Muscle Boy file, interspersed with his Happy Horny Himbo and @avissapiens' Intellect Drain. Dumbing Down was always something I'd struggled to conceptualise hypnotically, but I had a perspective shift this month as to what dumbing FEELS LIKE on an ongoing basis. While under some mild post-trance haze, I wrote this snippet about it in preparation for the post a week ago:

(Don't worry, I'll summarise it.)

The tl;dr of that message is that I realised "permanent" dumbing would feel less like brain fog/tipsiness, and more like apathy towards intellectual topics. It's a priority shift, or a behavioural change; not a magic finger plucking facts out of your brain so you forget the answers. It's sort of like it just fucks with your desire to know things/answer questions instead. The information might still be there, if you hunt; but why would you? Who cares, bro? Does it even matter?

Since making that perspective shift, it's like a few years of dumbing has crept in all at once, and it's been super interesting. I'm not going to over dramatise it (I'm desperate NOT to become an RP-type blog with this) because in contexts like writing, schoolwork, etc., I think just as clearly and easily. But in leisure contexts, in hypnosis, just in chatting with bros... I feel that intellectual apathy creep in allll the time. Trying to think of an answer to something and just giving up two seconds in, because "it's easier not to think about it." Trying to remember something and quitting because "if it was that important, I'd have remember." Letting my typos and message flubs sit because "they can figure it out lol" and not over analysing whether everything I say is totally coherent or rich.

I understand the irony of me speaking in huge depth about this here, when what I'm saying is that I'm thinking less. But like I said, it's kinda contextual. If anyone was interested, I'd consider writing a hornier post under the influence of trance sometime so the difference can be seen, but right now... I'm just taking this a little more formally, I guess? Idk, I'm torn between wanting it to be pseudo-educational and also just having made myself horny writing so much about dumbing, and when I'm horny I REALLY feel that haze start to creep in and I kinda wanna just stop this an edge or something and go do anything else that's more fun 🥴

So in the spirit of the post, I'm gonna go do that.

JANUARY WRAP-UP

For the month of January, most of what I listened to were Hyphyphurray's files listed above (the number in green = the number of times I listened to them). They are paid files, but they're well worth the price, and I recommend them to anyone into this shit. I also listened to Avis' Intellect Drain 5-6 times as a supplement because I love how that just makes my brain turn off for a while.

Not sure atm what I'm gonna listen to through February, I've bounced between Muscle Boy and Avis' Toxic Douchebag Alpha a few times so far but will likely commit to one track for the month.

-------

This is post #2 of my broader Subject Diaries series, a blog series I plan to maintain on a fortnightly/monthly basis updating people on what I've been listening to, files I've been enjoying, and effects I've been experiencing. When I'm not trancing, I'm usually off being a mystical forest bro in the wilderness of Ireland, but I am always available for commissions here on Tumblr/Soundcloud if you reach out via DM. My flat rate is currently $55-80, but you can always check my pinned post for more up-to-date info. You can also support me with a one-time tip either via Paypal or Ko-Fi, but you'll have to DM for the first.

[ellieslittleburrow]

🎄 Christmas time with Dean

Warnings : none

Pairings : Dean x sister!reader.

-------

Little old you had just woken up when the door to your room clicked shut.

You lifted your head to look out and then dropped it back against the pillo-

Ouch-

A fairly soft but painful-nonetheless- object collides with the side of your cheek, you slide your hand under the pillow, fingers rumming around for the pain inducing thin- a box?!

You pull it out and a smile flashes on your face. It's a little blue box. You open it and your eyes glint with absolute astonishment as a bluish translucent stone sends adrenaline pumping through your whole body. It's a fucking jeremejevite!!!!

-----

Softly opening the door after knocking, you peek into the room when a soft chuckle leaves your lips at the sight in front you, Classic old Dean while laying in belly, eyes you from the side.

"What do you want?" Carelessness laces his voice. He almost sounds annoyed that you're there. Fucker.

"What's this?" You hold the box up and he looks away, munching on his pizza.

"What's it look like? It's a stone for your dumbass brain. It'll help you get smart-"

"Shut up, Dean" you cut him off before heading over to the side of the bed. "Help me put it on." You sit on the edge as he gets up on his knees, shifting over to kneel right behind you.

You hand him the necklace. And all suddenly quiets down. It's not uncomfortable. It's just weighed with unspoken words. A prison of things to say but things that neither of you can say.

"How'd you find it?" You speak. "I've been looking for it for so long." You try to sound neutral as excitement slowly builds up again. This stone has been on your list for ages. It's one of the rarest-And- the fact that you have one in such a tiny and elegant little form just sent you over the moon. "How?!"

Dean humms. " A special girl deserves a special christmas present."

A smile creeps up on your face, even though Dean is not be able to see it. You couldn't even think of how much he had to pay to get you this stone. And although it's very small, the idea of it being there was more than enough to fill you up with absolute joy.

"Merry christmas, buddy." The hunter snaps you out of your thoughts, slowly wrapping his arms around your chest as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

It must've been a bit uncomfy, considering that he's pretty big even when kneeling down. But he still held you tight anyway.

He, probably, couldn't say it to you in your face, either, resorting to hiding behind you.

You decide to lighten up the mood for him. Change subjects before he gets too uncomfy. "I'm...sorry, Dean. I didn't g-"

"Don't worry about it, no need for any of that."

You turn around, cocking your head to the side. Dean confidently smiles. But you know him well enough. You can tell.

"I'm just fucking with you." The second those words are processed, a grin takes over Dean's face and he laughs, nervous and excited.

"You got me, little goose. Now where's my christmas present?" Your brother rubs his hands together eagerly, but he stops when devilish smirk appears on your face. He really thought it'd be that easy?

"Where's the fun in that? It's somewhere around the house." You turn on your heels, chest puffed up and triumphant. Gotcha' Dean. "Summon me when you find it. Merry Christmas, D."

------

I just wrote this reeeally quickly so i'm sorry if there are any incoherences. I'll make sure to reread it when i have the time. I hope yall enjoyed iit. Peace and kissies. ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[alwaysonthemend]

A Night of Revelry | JTK

Author's Note: Here it is! My second GVF fic! This one got away from me a little bit and ended up a lot longer than I meant it to be. But oh well, Jake just has that effect on me. Again, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

Summary: The boys are finally back home on a hiatus from tour and are enjoying some much needed rest and recovery. A dinner party at the Kiszka's house leads to you and Jake admitting some long kept secrets to each other. A night of revelry, indeed.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, mentions of being drunk, fingering (f. receiving), hand jobs (f. receiving), p. in v. sex, unprotected sex (ya'll know better!) swearing, dom Jakey (yes, that's a warning) 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4544

Preview:

“Since you want to cum so bad,” Jake says with a dangerous smile gracing his lips, “you’re going to come over here and ride my thigh. And I’m going to sit here and watch as you make yourself come apart. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

From the very first moment that you met Jake, the man had been an enigma. He was quiet – content to allow others to fill the silence for him. At first, you’d mistaken his reservedness for shyness. But as you got to know him, you found that he is by no means a shy man. He’s quiet, sure. But he’s confident in himself. Confident to dress as he wishes and to like the things he does without a care in the world. From there, you had assumed that his quietness must be a result of growing up in a household with Josh. Josh loves to talk and you had figured that Jake was simply allowing him to do so. And for a time, that was that. Jake was the moon to Josh’s sun and was simply content to let others fill the silence for him.

But as you started to spend more time with him, you discovered that he wasn’t always that quiet. When he’s around his brothers, or Danny, or other close friends and family, Jake has a wicked sense of humor that can have the whole room clutching their sides with laughter. His dry sarcasm and witty rebuttals are unmatched – even by Josh. Not only is Jake hilarious, you soon discovered, but he loves to talk if it’s about the right subjects. He’ll talk for ages about films he likes or dislikes, or he’ll go on rants about things he reads, or podcasts he listens to. And of course he’ll talk for ages about his music. His eyes light up when he’s excited about a topic, and in those moments, you can see the same animatedness and excitement that his twin has. 

The first time you saw Jake play on stage, you saw yet another side of him that you had never seen before. Seeing him up on that stage changed something in you. He commanded attention. From the way he threw his head back as he played to the way he muttered under his breath to his guitar, everything about the man oozed confidence and sex appeal. You’d gone into the show with a growing crush on him, but you left completely head over heels for the man. Time passes, and you only find yourself more and more in love with him as the days go on. And as much as you want more than just friendship, you figure that it’s best to keep your burgeoning feelings to yourself. Jake is a sweetheart – always showing you kindness whenever the two of you hang out. But he’s so out of your league it’s almost funny. He’s a goddamn rockstar, for goodness sake! He could get just about any woman in the world if he really wanted to and you’re fairly confident that out of all of them, you wouldn't be the top choice. 

There are times when you think that maybe, just maybe, he might have feelings for you too. He’s always so attentive to you when you spend time with him – remembering little things that you tell him and always seeming to know when you’re having a bad day. And every now and again he brushes his fingertips over yours when he hands you something or his hand will ghost over your waist when he passes. But you try not to linger on those moments too much. He’s a gentleman who always makes the people around him feel at ease and you realize that it’s just the way Jake is. He’s too kind for his own good (and your own good) so you do your best to push the feelings down.

It’s nights like this night, though, that make crushing those feelings down so difficult. Tours are on a temporary hiatus and the band members are back home for some much needed R & R. And tonight, Karen had invited all of the Kiszka siblings, Danny, and several other family members and friends over for an intimate night of stories and spending time with one another. Dinner had been loud and exciting – as all meals with the Kiszkas are, and now the guests are all intermingling amongst themselves as the sun sets into night. Some are inside, polishing off the dessert and staying out of the summer heat. Others are gathered outside around the fire, sharing stories as Jake and Sam gently strum on their guitars. Naturally, you find yourself gravitating towards where Jake is. You’d just spent a good 30 minutes talking inside with Danny about whether Kurt Cobain actually wanted to kill himself or if he was just trying to get away from Courtney Love (you favor the latter), but now you’re feeling that familiar tug in your chest that always stirs whenever you’re away from Jake for too long. There’s a part of you that’s embarrassed for how attached to Jake you’ve become. You’re independent and consider yourself to be a fairly rational individual, but there’s something about Jake that makes all that fly out the window. You want – no, you need to be close to him. He’s gone so much during the year and you miss him like a limb that’s been chopped off. His absence aches with phantom pains and you figure that you deserve the reprieve of spending time with him while he’s here. 

You take a seat in one of the empty lawn chairs next to him and he gives you a small, private smile, before turning back to Ronnie as she tells a story. His cheeks are flushed with alcohol and his dark, wide brimmed hat lies discarded at his feet. You tune everyone out, and instead allow yourself to watch Jake’s fingers as he plays the guitar. No matter how many times you see and hear him play, his talent never fails to make you feel all warm inside. He loves his music, and his playing reflects that love. It’s like he’s sharing a piece of himself with you all – and you’re thankful that you get to hear it like this. He’s beautiful. That’s the only word you can think of to describe the way he looks right now. 

“You alright?” He asks, noticing the absent look in your eyes. 

“Hm?” Your eyes snap up from his hands to his eyes. “Oh. Ya, I’m good. Just tired, is all.” You can feel your cheeks grow hot as there’s no way he didn’t see you staring at him. 

“Too much alcohol, darling?” He laughingly says in his fake British accent that he’s so fond of. 

“Yeah,” you laugh in relief, thankful for the easy excuse. “Drank a little too much wine, I think.” 

He smiles and immediately you feel at ease again. 

“Happens to the best of us.” He says wistfully, back in his normal accent. “I myself have also partaken a little too much tonight.” 

“You?” You gasp dramatically, “Jacob Kiszka drinking too much? I’m shocked.” 

He laughs and shakes his head. 

“I know. It’s not like me at all.” 

You both turn your attention back to the rest of the group as Josh stands up and dramatically tells a story about something or other, though you still are entirely too aware of Jake’s presence next to you. He puts his guitar down and helps himself to another generous glass of bourbon as the night goes on. The night bleeds from too late into too early and you feel the tendrils of sleep beginning to cloud your thoughts. You stopped drinking a while ago and your buzz from earlier in the night has all but disappeared. You stare into the fire, the warmth from the flame coupled with the voices of your friends lulling you into a relaxed trance. 

“Care to join me for a smoke?” Jake asks, startling you from your reverie. 

“You know I don’t smoke.” You scold him lightly. 

“I know.” He says, rising from his seat and extending his hand towards you. “Join me anyways?” 

You nod and take his hand, allowing him to lead you around the front of the house to a more secluded area. From here, you can just barely make out the voices of the others as you round the corner out of eyesight. Jake leans back against the house and turns his face up to the sky. He looks painfully beautiful like that. You swallow and look away. 

“Thought we were coming over here so you could smoke.” You say, following his line of sight up to the sky. 

“Changed my mind.” He shrugged, turning to look at you. “Come next to me.” 

You pin him with a confused stare but comply. You walk over and lean your own shoulder against the house, careful to leave space between the two of you. 

“I’m glad you could be here tonight. I missed you while we were gone.” He’s looking back at the sky now and you take a moment to watch him. His cheeks are still flushed and his hair is pulled back in a loose bun. You don’t respond for a moment, carefully choosing your next words. 

“I’m sure you missed being home with all the craziness of being on the road.” You finally say. “I’m glad you all are back. It gets boring here without you guys to cause chaos.” You laugh, looking back up to the sky. 

Jake turns to you suddenly and grabs your arm. 

“No, seriously,” He says, staring at you in the moonlight. “I missed you.” 

You turn to look at him and he’s pinning you with that stare that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you – seeing every single thought that runs through your mind. 

“I missed you too, Jake. More than you know.” 

He lets go of your arm, seemingly content that the urgentness of his words were heard. 

“I hate having to leave you here when we go,” he says, “I miss you so damn much.” 

You turn to look at him and he does the same, his dark eyes locking with yours, You don’t really know how to respond. Hearing him say that to you makes your heart flutter in your chest. But you’re wary, too – wary of reading into his words wrong. That little spark of hope rears its head and it’s all you can do not to lean over and kiss him right then and there. 

“I hate it too, Jake.” You whisper, afraid to speak into whatever it is that's just taken place between the two of you. But before you have time to process what’s happening, Jake presses his soft lips to yours. You’re so stunned that you don’t kiss him back and he pulls back wide eyed. 

“I’m sorry.. I- I don’t know why I did that without asking first. I-” His eyes are filled with embarrassment and you can’t help but feel bad for him. 

“It’s okay, Jake.” You interrupt him.” I just don’t want you to do something that you’ll regret in the morning.” You take a breath to try and steady your heart rate as Jake stares at you. 

“So, you didn’t kiss me back because you think I’m too drunk?” He asks slowly, seemingly trying to process your words. 

You sigh. It hurt before, but hearing him say it out loud made the sting all the more painful. 

“Yes, Jake. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose our friendship over a drunken mistake.” There’s a small, hopeless little part of you that wants to say ‘fuck it’ and kiss him again anyway – even if he’ll regret it in the morning. Because deep down you know that this is the last chance you’ll ever get. You shove the little voice down. 

“We can just act like this never happened.” You assure him. 

“And what if I hadn’t been drinking before this?” He asks. “Would you have done the same?” 

You purse your lips and look away. The pain of this whole situation is settling into your bones, heavy as lead. 

“It doesn’t really matter, Jake.” You say honestly. “Whatever you’re feeling right now, it isn’t real.” 

Jake looks at you and his eyes carry a hurt in them that you’d never seen before. You want to look away – run away even, if it meant that you wouldn’t have to see that look in his eyes again. 

“I know it’s real, y/n. I may have been drinking, but it hasn’t given me feelings that weren’t already there.” He lets out a shaky breath. “The bourbon just gave me a little more courage to do something about these feelings.”

Your mind is awash with thousands upon thousands of thoughts and feelings. Hope, excitement, disbelief, fear; they all swirl through your mind so quickly you can barely catch hold of any of them. The thought that he might have feelings for you feels absurd. He’s Jake fucking Kiszka. It’s too good to be true. 

“You promise me?” You beg, practically shaking with all the emotions running through your mind. “Please, Jake. I can’t take it if this is just you getting caught up in the moment.” And it’s the truth. If this isn’t real, you doubt you’ll be able to survive it. 

“Answer my question first…” He says, stepping closer to you. “If I hadn’t been drinking and I kissed you, what would you do?” Jake’s eyes are shiny in the moonlight – his expression open and hopeful. 

Oh, fuck it. 

“I would kiss you back.” 

“Oh thank fuck.” He says, before crushing his lips to yours again. This time, you don’t hesitate to reciprocate, opening your mouth and allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue. You feel dizzy with excitement and disbelief. You’re making out with the guy you thought you could never have and holy shit, it’s better than you ever dreamed it would be. 

“I promise you,” he says in between kisses, “that this is real. Realer than anything I’ve ever known.” 

Jake brings his palms up to cup your cheeks and you place your hands on his shoulders to draw him closer to you. The smell of bourbon and vanilla floods your nose as he presses his chest to yours. He pulls away and you let out an embarrassing whine. He stares at you – his brown eyes swirling with passion. 

“Y/n,” he says quietly, “what do you want?” 

You take a moment to drink in his appearance. He looks incredible with his hair pulled back. His trademark silver necklaces rest against his collarbone and his cream colored dress shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his stomach. There’s a glisten to his skin from the summer heat and you’re struck with the sudden desire to taste its saltiness. 

“I want you to touch me, Jake.” You plead. 

He gives you a smirk and his eyes dance with mischief and excitement. 

“Come inside. My room.” He laces his fingers with yours and the two of you slip inside, completely unnoticed by the merry crowd outside. You skirt around the kitchen where everyone else still resides and you both bound up the stairs to Jake’s old room. 

Stepping into Jake’s old room feels personal. You’ve been in here before, but it still feels like you’re seeing something you’re not supposed to. The walls are covered in music posters, with artists from Cream to John Lee Hooker. The room smells like Jake – if a little faint, and several old guitars sit leaned against the wall. You stand in the middle of the room, suddenly overwhelmed. 

“Y/n?” Jake asks, coming to stand beside you as he places a warm hand on your shoulder. 

You look at him, taking in his beautiful features in the darkness of the room. The only light source coming from the moonlight spilling through the window. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern replacing the desire that had filled his eyes just moments before. 

“Yes, of course! I just-” You trail off, unsure how to put your feelings into words. 

“Y/n, I swear that I’m not that drunk. I’m a little tipsy, for sure. But I know what I want. I want you.” 

“I want you too, Jake. I do. This all just,” you wave your hands in a vague motion between the two of you, “this all just doesn’t feel real. I’ve spent so long thinking this was never a possibility and now I’m just a little overwhelmed to be honest.” You look down at your feet. This is all just too much to process in such a short amount of time. 

Jake walks over to his bed and takes a seat, gesturing for you to do the same. You follow, sinking down heavily beside him. 

“Look at me.” He says, placing his index beneath your chin to turn your face towards him. “Why can’t you believe that I want this?” He asks, a small hint of a smile ghosting his lips. 

“I just never thought that someone like you would be interested in someone… like me.” You say honestly. 

Jake furrows his brows at you. 

“Someone like me?” He grins and you can see the spit on his lips glisten in the dark. “Is it because I’m a rockstar? Super famous? Thousands of screaming fans all across the globe?” 

You scoff and nudge your shoulder into his playfully. 

“Not helpful at all. But yes, I guess so.” 

You both sit in silence for a moment. Your body is thrumming with nervous energy. 

“I’m not sure what I can say to convince you that I want you, y/n.” He says into the dark, eyes trained on the wall opposite the two of you. “I’ve always been drawn to you. Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you talk about things that excite you…” He turns to look at you now, his expression soft. “But this last leg of the tour, y/n…It was worse than usual. I missed you so damn much. I couldn’t ignore this any longer.” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.” His eyes are full of truth. You see no lie in them. “Tell me if you want to stop, y/n.” 

You nod and allow him to push your back into the bed. He grips your thighs and spreads your knees apart before settling between them. You reach behind him and pull the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall freely to his shoulders. He chuckles and kisses you again, much softer now than before.

“Let me show you how real this is.” He whispers. 

“Please, Jake. Whatever you want.”

That seems to be all the permission he needs as he swiftly lifts your shirt above your head before sliding your skirt down your thighs. You reach out with shaky fingers and undo the few buttons that he had bothered to fasten, and you slide his shirt down and off his shoulders. Jake attaches his lips to your neck, leaving warm kisses down your throat. You moan and paw at the belt of his pants, desperate to feel more of him against you. 

“Patience, love.” He laughs as he unhooks your bra and throws it to the floor. “I want to make you cum first. We’ll get to me later.” 

He dips his hand into the waistband of your panties and slides them down. You kick them off as they pool around your ankles. Jake brings a calloused finger to your pussy, swiping through the wetness gathered there. 

“So wet…” he purrs, “All this for me?” 

“Only for you, Jake. Only for you.” 

You whine as his talented fingers begin to circle your swollen clit, just the way you had always imagined him doing when you watch him play guitar. He keeps his pace slow, teasing you and drawing out your pleasure. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this, y/n?” Jake asks as he begins to pick up his pace. His fingertips are rough, but the friction is so good you can barely think straight. 

“I dream about this pussy all the time – I dream about seeing you like this, all desperate and needy, and I wake up so hard it hurts.” He sinks his middle finger into you slowly, while his thumb continues in lazy circles on your clit. He crooks his finger inside you, brushing against your walls in a way that makes you arch your back in pleasure. He smiles, and slowly inserts his ring finger into you as well, pumping in and out of you slowly. 

You whine and buck your hips up to meet his hand, desperate for more. The sound of his voice, gruff with lust, is sending shocks of arousal straight to your core. 

“Jake, please,” you beg, as he curls his fingers inside you, “stop teasing.”

He laughs lowly but doesn’t give you anything more. 

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.” Your voice is shaky and comes out in practically a whine. “Stop teasing. You already know.”

“Wanna hear you say it. Wanna hear those filthy things coming out of that pretty mouth.” 

He’s unrelenting in his teasing. You’re so close, but he won’t give you that last bit that you need to finally snap the coil building in your belly. 

“Please, Jake.” You moan, “Need to cum so bad. Need you to make me cum.” 

He grins and you think that he’s finally going to give you what you want. But he doesn’t. Instead he sits up, pulling his fingers from you, and leans back on the headboard, leaving you laying there confused. 

“Jake?” You ask as you sit up, feeling the wetness of your pussy leak down between your thighs. 

“Since you want to cum so bad,” he says with a dangerous smile gracing his lips, “you’re going to come over here and ride my thigh. And I’m going to sit here and watch as you make yourself come apart. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” 

You nod, breathless. You crawl your way over to him and swing one leg obediently over his thigh. You can see his cock straining in his pants and your mouth waters at the sight. Next time, you know that you want to taste it. You slowly ease your aching pussy down onto his leg and roll your hips experimentally, dragging your clit against the fabric of his pants. 

“There you go, sweet girl.” Jake praises. He grips your ass with both hands, digging his fingers hard into your flesh. He’s looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You roll your hips again and start up a steady pace, the friction exactly what you needed. Jake slides one hand up to your breasts, circling and pinching at your raised nipples. His other hand stays where it is, solidly gripping your ass and keeping you grounded as you ride his thigh into oblivion. You quicken your pace as he mutters encouragement under his breath and your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, and you moan his name loudly as you ride your way through the pleasure. You slip off from him and collapse onto your back next to him. 

“Jesus Christ, you look gorgeous like that.” He says as he rises from his seated position. “Such a needy, desperate little girl, aren’t you?” He says as he unbuckles his belt and slips out of his pants. He leans over you and brushes a strand of your hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear – the softness of the gesture a stark contrast to his dominant words from before. 

“Kiss me.” You say, not at all embarrassed by the neediness of your request. 

“I’ll kiss you a thousand times if it’ll make you believe me when I say that you’re the only woman I could ever want. I want you, y/n. More than anything else in my entire life.”

“I want you too, Jake. Since I met you, I’ve wanted this. Just never thought I could have it.”

“Well, you have it.” He says, brushing his lips over yours. “You have me. And now I’m going to fuck you just to prove it even more.” He pulls his boxers down his hips, allowing his hard cock to spring free. You gulp. He’s big – bigger than anyone else you’d ever seen. 

“On your hands and knees, sweet girl.” Jake says as he pumps his cock a few times. You comply and groan loudly as he sinks his length into you slowly. He bottoms out and pauses, allowing you time to adjust. The coldness of his necklaces on your back feel good against your heated skin. 

“Move, Jakey. Need you to move. Now.” You say as you press your face into the pillow. 

Jake grasps your hips firmly and begins a brutal pace, pistoning his hips into yours. You moan loudly as he groans into your ear. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight, y/n.” His thrusts are fast and hard, rocking your entire body forward with each one. He feels so good you can hardly even think straight. All your thoughts are entirely consumed with Jake, Jake, Jake. 

“Don’t stop, J. ‘m so close.” You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching and you start to rock your hips back to meet Jake’s thrusts. He wraps one arm around your belly, pulling you tighter to him as he picks up his pace even more. Your face is buried in his pillow, desperately trying to muffle your cries from the other occupants of the house. 

“Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?” Jake asks, as he drops his hand to circle your clit in time with his thrusts. 

“Jacob!” You wail as you finally cum, legs shaking as it tears through you. Your eyes are watering and your vision whites out from the sheer pleasure. Jake’s thrusts are erratic, desperate. 

“Say it again, y/n. Gonna cum in your tight, little pussy.” 

“Jacob- please.” You moan at the overstimulation and that’s all he needs. 

“Oh fuuuuck.” He groans as he spills inside you, breathing ragged in your ear. 

He pulls out of you, and you collapse to your stomach, utterly spent. 

“Stay there, sweetheart.” He mutters as he rises to get a wet washcloth. He returns quickly and you roll onto your back. He cleans you up softly, careful on your abused clit and pussy. He hangs the washcloth on his nightstand and crawls into the bed next to you. Placing a kiss to your forehead, he pulls the blankets up and over the both of you. 

“That was… incredible.” You sigh, exhaustion hitting you like a brick wall. You lay your head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. 

“You’re incredible.” He says quietly, voice so soft compared to before. “I meant what I said, you know?” 

You glance up to look at him. He’s got that look in his chocolate brown eyes again – the one that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you. 

“There isn’t anyone else that I would rather be with than you, y/n. It’s not just about sex, as incredible as that was. I want you. As much of you as you’re willing to give me.” 

You press your lips to his in a sweet kiss. 

“I believe you. I want it all with you, Jake.” 

He huffs out a small laugh and kisses you again. 

“Thank fuck.” 

“Mmm.” You hum in agreement, closing your eyes and nuzzling into him. “My rockstar.” 

You miss the adoring smile Jake gives as you fall asleep. 

[literatooru]

pairing: gn!reader x miya osamu

flufftober 2024!

Divination has never been Osamu’s favorite class. He always finds himself feeling drowsy; and whether it's because of how it seems to make the hours dreadfully drag on and on, or because of how the professor’s voice mixed with the heavily perfumed smoke that wafts all around the slightly claustrophobic room, he’s not sure.

He had only chosen it because it was easy to fool the professor by making up “predictions” of the future, as long as a tragedy or two (or five) were added. But by Merlin, sometimes he wonders if he should have picked Arithmancy or Study of Ancient runes to at least keep his brain a little more active. He’s also unsure as to why it’s even taught at all, considered that, at best, it’s viewed as a flawed and feeble “art” by most. He thinks it’s more of a fraud.

The only perk he could think of was that at least he got to spend an hour (or two, if he was lucky and had double period) with you.

Osamu heaves a sigh as he climbs the silvery ladder and looks around the crammed classroom. He blinks a couple times to adjust his eyesight to the new, crimson lighting, the corners of his lips automatically quirking up when his eyes finally land on you.

He makes his way to you, evading the dozens of small, circular tables filling the classroom. Once he reaches you, he lets the strap of his bag slide down his arm and it lands on the rug with a muted thud, then sinks onto the little round ottoman right across from yours.

“D’ya think she’s gonna make us continue the dream diary?” he says as a greeting.

You rest your chin on the palm of your hand as you let out a groan. The classroom slowly starts filling up with students, all of them disrupting the silence with animated chatter.

“I hope not. I barely managed to make up enough of them last year,” you mumble, blinking slowly as drowsiness immediately starts taking over you. “I wish we could open a window. It’s so stuffy in here.”

“Psh, ya really wanna disrupt yer Sight like that?” he says with humor.

Osamu busies himself pulling out his textbooks, dropping the heavy tomes on the table with a small huff and rolling his shoulder where his bag had been slung over.

“Ah! My darlings! I could sense you had all finally arrived,” Professor Trelawney speaks in that typical misty tone of hers, rearranging her shawl delicately. “Welcome, welcome. Oh, no need for those today, my dear,” she says, gesturing at a student that had just pulled out one of his textbooks. Osamu purses his lips and carelessly drops his own books into his bag. “I am aware that everyone’s minds seem to get rather foggy after a prolonged break."

“All the incense does a rather fine job as well,” your friend mutters under his breath, and his smile grows when you stifle a chuckle behind your hand.

"I myself make sure to exercise my Inner Eye as often as I can,” the Professor continues. She pushes her large glasses further up the bridge of her nose, sniffing softly as she walks among the tables.

“We shall make a revision of the subjects we’ve previously touched, starting with the basics, just as a refresher. Pass me the large silver teapot, dearie."

A girl stands up from her seat to do as told as Professor Trelawney runs her eyes across the various shelves, grabbing a couple different things off them. “Now, everyone please collect a teacup from the shelf. I will fill it for you.”

Osamu and you stand up from your seats and walk towards the shelves, waiting in line to grab a cup.

“Hold on, I got it,” he tells you. He walks through the crowd, mumbling apologies as he gently nudges people aside, and he takes advantage of his height by reaching out to take two of the teacups and saucers from the top shelf. After that, he makes his way back to you and offers you the delicate china with a warm smile.

“Thank you, giraffe,” you say with a smile of your own.

“I presume you all remember how this goes. Really, the process is fairly simple,” the Professor says. She pours tea into the teacups that are extended to her. “Of course, reading the leaves is the complicated part. Only those that possess the Sight, such as myself—”

Her voice is drowned under the chatter as you and Osamu go back to your table and take a seat. You blow lightly on the scalding liquid, dark ripples disturbing the surface.

Osamu moves the teacup to his lips, gently places the rim against them, takes a small sip and immediately frowns.

“Oof!” he exclaims. His whole face soon scrunches up into a grimace as he takes a second sip without even waiting for it to cool down. “It could do with a little sugar.” 

“More than a little.” You nod, coughing a little after taking the first sip. “I wish we could do this with butterbeer instead.”

“Man, what I wouldn’t do for one right now. It’s getting chilly.”

Once you both finally manage to down the bitter beverage, you each swill the remaining dregs around the cups three times with your left hand, then turn them upside down on the saucers and wait for the last of the tea to drain away before exchanging cups.

You reach into your bag to pull out your old copy of Unfogging the Future (which you had casted Reducio on to decrease its size until it matched that of a small dictionary’s) and place it on the table, flicking through the pages as you examine Osamu’s teacup.

“All right, hit me, partner. Exactly how many tragedies are in store for me?”

You roll your eyes with humor, shaking your head softly as you peer into his teacup. 

“I see… a…” You squint your eyes and frown as you try to make out exactly what the shapes are supposed to depict. “An umbrella. According to what the book says it means ‘difficulties’. And I think that’s— an apple? No, wait, it looks more like a butterfly,” you mumble, rotating the cup and craning your neck with your lips pursed. Osamu snorts, earning a glare from you before you shift your gaze to consult your book. “Which means… success. And that over there could be a crescent moon, which means… prosperity. So I guess you’re going to struggle with something you’re working on but end up successful, and that’s going to bring you good things."

“I don’t think you’ve exercised yer Inner Eye much, have ya?” Osamu says with an arched eyebrow, and his index finger pressed against his lips to suppress a smile.

You scoff. Your eyes remain on him as you set the teacup down, then mimic his cocked brow and lean forward, closer to him. 

“So you’re an expert now?” you ask.

You drum your fingers on the surface of the table as you watch his smile grow, and it’s almost infuriating how pretty he looks. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his entire face seems to light up, his eyes glued on you as he gives a sharp nod. Is it just you feeling a little lighter? Perhaps all the smoke and incense have finally gotten to you.

“‘Course. I have an innate ability for divination. M'great, great, great, great aunt was a renowned Seer. She used to read Tarot Cards for the Queen herself.”

You throw your head back with laughter, the sound filling Osamu’s ears and making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He knows it’s not the environment he’s in—it’s because of you.

“Right, sure. Go on then.” You grab your teacup from the saucer and offer it to him, a look full of expectation on your face. “Tell me what the future holds for me, O' great Seer.”

Osamu huffs out a chuckle. When he reaches out to grab the teacup, his fingers accidentally brush yours. You jerk your hand back and he clears his throat. He stands up from his ottoman and walks over to you, halting once he’s right by your side. Osamu leans down, rests his elbows on the table and gets closer to make sure you can see the inside of the cup as well.

His arm brushes yours every time he moves it, and you you can’t help glancing at him every now and then. How have you never noticed he has such a pretty profile? Well, to be completely honest, his entire face is pretty. It’s just that you’ve somehow only just paid close attention to it. He takes a quick peek at you and smiles when he catches your eyes on him, making you immediately avert your gaze and lean forward so much that your nose is almost touching the teacup.

Osamu chews on the inside of his cheek. You’re so… adorable.

“See that, right there?” he asks quietly, index finger stretched out to point at what looks like… a dark blob. You shoot him a concerned, sideways glance, absolutely confused as to what he’s seeing. “That’s a hat. Means Improvement, if I recall correctly. And a sun and horseshoe right text to it! That means such improvement will also bring you great fortune and happiness.” He cocks his head to the side, his breath mingling with yours due to the closeness. His voice drops in volume, almost forcing you to get even closer to him—close enough that he can smell your perfume over the smokiness of the room. And it just smells so good that he has to stop himself from taking a very obvious deep breath. “A pumpkin…” he carries on, forcing himself to focus on the dregs rather than you. “A circle… huh.”

“What?” you murmur. 

You had actually been so focused on his words that when you turn your face to look at him, you start when you find him so close to you. You feel warmth creep up your neck, and—yep, it’s definitely not due to the ambiance of the Divination classroom.

“It’s a good cup,” Osamu declares, tapping the rim with his index finger. He sets it back down on the saucer and places his left hand on the table, his right one moving to rest on his hip as he looks down at you, lips pursed as he seems to mull something over. “Maybe I should just pop the question then.”

“What are you talking ab—”

“Go out with me,” Osamu interrupts you.

You blink up at him once, twice; suddenly feeling so very grateful that you’re sitting down. You mouth wordlessly at Osamu, then blink once more.

“That’s not a question,” you manage blurt out when you finally find your voice. You’re not sure whether you should slap yourself or punch yourself in the face. Both options sound appropriate for the situation. Osamu Miya has just asked you out on a date and there you are, making a fool of yourself.

To your surprise (and relief), Samu smiles.

“Will you go out with me?”

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, reaching for your discarded teacup and fiddling with it for a second just to keep your hands busy.

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“That you will if you say yeah.” He adds a cheeky smile to his retort, earning a snort from you.

Smartass.

“And what if I say no?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, you can’t say no.”

“Why not?” You force a frown onto your face, if anything to conceal the nervousness threatening to take over you.

“Because, my dearie,” he begins, mimicking Professor Trelawney’s misty voice as he yanks the teacup from your hands and waves it in front of your face, “it’s written in the tea leaves.”

This time, the laugh that bubbles out of you is so genuinely filled with good humor that Osamu can’t help the smile that almost splits his face in two. Merlin’s Beard, he loves that sound. He’s willing to make himself look like an absolute idiot if it means getting to hear it again and being the reason for it.

“is it, now?” you say through your chuckling. “I didn’t see anything like that in my cup.”

“Because you don’t possess the Sight, unlike me,” Osamu retorts, tapping his index finger right between your eyebrows gently. “If you had broadened yer mind and casted yerself into the future, you’d know it. I saw it with my own two eyes— er… three?”

“You’re such an idiot, you know that, Samu?”

“A lucky idiot, I hope?” he says leaning forward a bit. “The Three Broomsticks, Friday night. You, me, and a couple of Butterbeers. I’ll wait for you outside your Common Room.”

And there it is, the smile he’s found himself longing for more times than he can count and that you’re convinces makes you like like an absolute idiot.

“It’s a date.”

[foggyfanfic]

Did you guys hear Disneyland Cast Members voted to strike?

It was nearly unanimous too, 99% of the unionized cast members voted in favor of the strike. This doesn't necessarily mean they will strike, more that when the union rep shows up to the negotiation table on Monday they'll have that extra bit of leverage. Hopefully that'll be enough to win them living wages and such. I don't have anything intelligent to say, I just feel a kind of way about this subject, I'm going to put my opinions under the cut.

Ok, look, I love Disneyland. Love it with a passion. You know what reminded me this was happening and prompted me to look up the story? I was thinking of updating this card I made for one of the many games I've come up with to play in Disneyland because I have a weird variety of hyper-fixation when it comes to that park specifically.

So I am not speaking an ounce of hyperbole when I say Disneyland is my favorite place in the world.

But! Whoever the hell is making the big decisions around there needs to get their head out of their ass. I don't know if I should be blaming Bob Iger or Josh D'Amaro for the way the parks have been since the pandemic, but I'm going to blame both. I can deal with them experimenting with Genie Plus (I hate it but I'm used to capitalism), and I can sort of deal with the prices (I can't afford them easily but I'm saving up), but Disneyland has very clearly been trying to cut labor costs for a while now and it's incredibly baffling to watch. It feels like the parks are being run by somebody with a business degree from a sketchy "college" and zero experience with the real world.

They're cutting back on shows, overworking their existing staff, and skipping regular maintenance so they can operate the park with a smaller maintenance team. Overall it results in a worse experience for the customer, making it less likely that they'll convert new guests into returning fans like myself. While Disney World is a major tourist attraction that most people consider a once in a life time experience, Disneyland has always had a steady revenue from local Californians that return again and again. If you frequent forums about the parks you hear all about folks who live in SoCal that buy their annual pass (I know that's not what it's currently called, but that's what it is) and use it to get into the parks just to have dinner or rove around and maybe grab a churro. They might not be paying for Iger's next yacht, but those folks are providing a reliable revenue stream, and they go back again and again because for decades Disneyland has maintained a "magical" atmosphere.

And I feel like it's fairly obvious that the front line workers are the ones that make Disneyland what it is. Right? Like I'm not crazy, we all agree Disneyland would be nothing without the hard work of these cast members, right?

Why are they-? You need front line workers, why wouldn't you-? Do they not have years of research and experience backing up how beneficial a well paid staff is? I love the Incredicoaster but if all I wanted was thrill rides, Six Flags is an hour closer and a whole lot cheaper. I'm going for the complicated rides that require their own pit crew like Mickey's Runaway Railroad. Why are we even still having this conversation? I get that people like Bob Iger are a bit insulated from the rest of us, but the relationship between a happy staff and profit is well documented. Why wouldn't they just...? In the Disneyland subreddit a retired cast member post the Benefits Binder he got back when he worked for Disneyland and this thing was thick, it included health, retirement, and stock options. Somebody somewhere must have known that whittling down benefits while stagnating pay was not sustainable. Right?!

Like I said, I don't have anything intelligent to add to this conversation, but to be honest, I think everything intelligent to add has already been added. I'm just annoyed for my own sake and downright pissed for the sake of the cast members. I hope they get everything they ask for on Monday, and if they don't, I hope the strike knocks some sense into everybody it needs to.

[ilexdiapason]

(part one here) (part four here)

Oli doesn't try to broach the subject again until the pizza is delivered and the ice cube is a soaked-up puddle in a napkin on the coffee table.

When he does, though, it's with his hands in his lap and his best efforts to not sound like a scolding teacher. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"

Martyn, in lieu of answering, pulls open the pizza box and wiggles a slice free from the still-stringing cheese. His fingertips bounce it between them, ginger; he bites down and clearly regrets it. Still, he chews, mouth caught in a conflict between ventilating the heat and keeping his secrets sealed tight shut behind it.

"Come on," Oli continues, gentle as he can push it. "I can't help you if I don't know what the problem is."

Martyn swallows. He looks like he's deliberating.

He must decide, whatever the stakes of this crisis are, that Oli's worth it, because he does reply.

"You know," he says, quiet, "I wasn't kidding when I said you should keep your computer away from me."

"Do you want me to take it upstairs?"

"I mean - bit late now. But yeah, that'd probably help."

So he probably has the conviction that something, somebody, is listening in through the machine. That's understandable; if whatever his situation was involved him being able to join some random strangers' games, he probably had a computer, and it was probably monitored, which would explain why he's so terrified of being tracked. It makes about as much sense as anything else in this exchange does. 

Even if it didn't, though, Oli still would have taken his laptop back upstairs, tapped out a quick notice that he'd be unavailable for the rest of the day, and tossed it on his bed - and his phone beside it, after a moment's thought. Martyn's comfort is what really matters here.

"There we are," he says on his way back in, "the highest-tech thing in the room now is probably the microwave."

Martyn offers him a thin smile, which feels more like progress than anything else.

"Right." He sits back down, takes his own piece of pizza (which by now is a far more edible temperature than it must have been when Martyn tried it), and gets the whole thing down before he takes another shot. "You want to start, or shall I?"

Martyn exhales amusement. "Go on then. Tell me what you know."

"Not a lot," Oli admits, "apparently. You don't make a lot of sense. You fell out of the sky, you still seem fairly surprised that things are real, you didn't know we’d been playing Minecraft - and you were calling me CHEST agent, which isn't a job title my company offers, as far as I'm aware. What, were you born in a video game?"

"I told you I was born in Nottingham."

"That might have been a cover story!"

"Nah. Wouldn't lie about that. I am a real boy, Gepetto, you can believe me on that one."

"Well, there's one thing I know for sure about you," Oli says. "All this talk of being in there, though. I don't know. VR?"

"Something like. You -" he hushes his voice, even though it's the middle of the afternoon and the neighbours won't be home "- you're, like, a normal CHEST employee, then? Front end stuff?"

"Yeah. I told you, I'm a software dev. If it's a front, I'm not in on the secret."

"God," says Martyn, "okay, so you're still not safe, but… okay, telling you this now, you're not getting the whole truth. But your company sucks and you should quit your job."

"Sucks like questionable QA policies or sucks like torturing teenagers in the basement?"

"I - shit," says Martyn, "a lot of those agents might have been folks like me, huh. Damn. Least I never killed anyone."

"I seem to remember you being pretty handy with a knife."

"Yeah, 'cause none of that was real, I was a bloody rat in a maid dress. You can't be on at me for killing people there."

"Suppose Jimmy killed the gardener."

"Exactly!"

"So, what, CHESTCorp have figured out how to turn VR into R, and you got caught up in it?"

"Not CHEST," Martyn takes another go at his slice of pizza, "just Doc. It's real experimental stuff. You're lookin' at test subject number one, I'm pretty sure."

"And now that you're not a test subject any more," he finishes, "you're having trouble readjusting."

"I guess. It's just… y'know, like, it's nice to be back, but… weird. Incredibly weird."

"Two and a half years would do it," Oli nods.

They take another lull to properly eat. Oli hadn't realised before this how starving he is; he would have thrown something together from the groceries he'd picked up if he hadn't had a guest to entertain. Martyn, too, seems fairly intent on ingesting an entire pizza by himself. His mother’s voice sounds inside his head, urging him to slow down, but Oli ignores it. If Martyn ends up with stomach problems it’ll just be another stark reminder that he’s not… trapped in a virtual reality simulator, he supposes.

“So, er,” he picks back up, once they’ve cleared the wedges and made more than a dent in the pizza, “what now?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve gone through all that. Nobody’s going to believe you, I assume, if this stuff’s as top-secret as it seems to be.”

“Kinda thing you’d need a two-hour primer with your therapist for,” Martyn nods, “and a lot of faith in doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“But, what, do you just… go home?”

“I’d like to,” he says. “I would really, really just like things to go back to normal.”

There’s a silence. But they can’t rings clear as a bell in the air between them anyway.

Martyn looks down at the last three slices of pizza. “You should take me home.”

“You’re sure?”

He swallows. “Yeah. I’ll just… I’ll be a big surprise for my parents when they get back home from work. And then I’ll add you guys on Discord, and hopefully we’ll be able to talk more on there?”

“Hopefully,” says Oli, meaning it more than anything. His entire life’s been pretty much flipped on its head by this encounter. “We’re always wondering about you, y’know. Or, I mean, I am. Owen probably thinks you’re there from Apo, Apo probably thinks you’re there from Owen, all that, but… Hard not to wonder who the hell you really were, when you would never act like it was actually a game.”

“I mean, it’s all a game, isn’t it, really?” Martyn muses, half-distant. “Just in the long dream now.”

“Is that from the End Poem?”

“Is it?”

Oli shakes his head. No time for all that. “So I’m driving you back to Nottingham, and… you’ll DM me when you can?”

“Yeah.”

It’s the best he can ask for.

Martyn refuses to tell Oli his exact address, just asks him to drive close enough that Martyn can walk the rest of the way home. It’s understandable - a CHESTCorp employee knowing Martyn’s exact location is, apparently, an incredibly dangerous thing - but still a little concerning. He’d at least like to be sure that Martyn won’t be getting poached back by this Doc guy at the earliest notice. Still, Martyn’s comfort remains the most important thing, and so he leaves his Google Maps at home.

It’s a bit of an autopilot drive, even without directions. Oli feels the wheel under his fingers, the pedals under his feet, like they’re abstracts. He looks over once or twice and sees Martyn glued to the window, to the mirrors, hypervigilant; he hopes that Martyn feels a little more real now than he did before.

They’re idle at a semi-populated roundabout when Martyn straightens his back. “Second exit, then pull over,” he announces.

“Almost there?”

“Pretty close.”

Oli obliges.

Martyn, with just the barest tremor in his fingers, pops the car door and steps out.

“You’re sure you’re gonna be okay?”

The words leave Oli’s mouth in a rush, the emotion behind them probably more visceral than Martyn is expecting, if the way he startles at them is any indication.

“Because - ‘cause if you need a hotel, or cash, or -”

“No,” says Martyn, “no, I’m fine. Promise.”

He hesitates, hand on the open car door, a few more seconds.

“And thanks,” he finishes, “I don’t - I’m not - I don’t know. Appreciate it.”

Oli understands what he’s getting at. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Nah, I’m gonna throw myself right in the Trent when you’re gone,” Martyn smiles, and Oli dutifully ignores the crack in his voice. Blame it on the last vestiges of teenagehood.

“And if you do end up needing to - I suppose erase all traces of your old life online… then it’s been an honour.”

“Yeah.”

“... Good luck.”

“Talk to you later,” Martyn says, and slams the car door closed.

All Oli can do, once he’s ambled out of eyeshot, is mechanically drive back home.

So that was InTheLittleWood. Friend group cryptid, unethical experiment, man with more trauma than Oli could ever begin to help him deal with… but man he was able to feed, and house, and walk through an emotional response, which is better than nothing at all. The one person in the world who Oli could almost hit with his car and have that be a better situation than the one he’d just escaped from. Still a mystery, too; he’s left Oli with far more questions than answers, left him returning to an empty house and wishing he’d been selfish enough to make Martyn stay a little longer, talk a little more.

Oli picks up his phone where he’d tossed it in the bedroom.

He has one new email to his work address.

Human Resources 3:04 PM

to me ˅

Subject: Performance Review

Dear Oliver,

You have been scheduled for a performance review. You are required to report to our Shoreditch location by 09:00 tomorrow, Tuesday December 12th. Failure to comply with this request will result in disciplinary proceedings, which may lead to your subsequent termination.

Regards,

Dan

Human Resources

CHESTCorp UK

Ah.

That’s… well.

The word termination is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that threat.

… Okay, so they’re working to a deadline now. That’s fine. He can deal with that. Martyn’s been dealing with far worse, right?

The friend request, at least, flips through from pending to accepted.

TheOrionSound — Today at 16:14

[Attachment: Screenshot_20231025_161408.png]

InTheLittleWood — Today at 16:14

Shit.

(end! now on ao3, if you’d like to leave a comment slash kudos slash bookmark!)

[hannahssimblr]

“Smile! No- okay, a real smile if you can. Would you show us some teeth? Ah! That’s a snarl… why don’t you think of something that makes you happy, or just say cheese. Okay? ‘Cheese’? Jude. C’mon.”

I smile for one second just as the camera bulb flashes, blinding me temporarily, and let it fall right off my face. “That okay?”

The photographer checks the screen and tuts, “Well, it’ll do. Onto the next, please!” I slide off the stool and let the next person in line take it as Sam from the yearbook committee beckons me over to him. 

“Jude, I’m just looking at your form here. For the yearbook? It looks like you must have forgotten to fill some of it out.”

I peer at it.

“No, that was on purpose.”

“Right, well your section of the book is going to be fairly empty if we submit it like this, and most of the stuff that you’ve written is pretty much unusable.”

“Which parts?”

“So here, under ‘best memories’ you have, ahem, ‘smashing Fitzy’s nose at that match that time.’”

“Yeah. You notice it’s still fucked up a bit even after the surgery?”

“You actually can’t say that. The principal wants me to cut it out because it’s inappropriate, so you’ll have to think of something else.”

“Another good memory?”

“Yeah, just one.”

“You’ll have to let me stew on that.”

“Right. And here, for ‘where will you be in ten years?’ you’ve said ‘possibly dead.’” He’s got a troubled look in his eyes, “Kind of morbid, isn’t it?”

I shrug, “Well it is possible, isn’t it?”

“Well I suppose, but, like, most people have said something like ‘running my own bakery!’ or ‘married with kids!’”

I scoff, “Alright well I won’t be married.” 

“Have you not got a pretty solid thing going with Michelle Tengu?”

A bit presumptuous. I repeat myself, “I won’t be married.” 

Sam scratches the back of his head and lets out this world weary sigh. Whatever about me, but in ten years Sam will probably be doing exactly as he’s doing now, stuck behind some desk, sighing over forms, checking his watch slyly and yearning for lunchtime so that he can finally lay into the limp salad with vinaigrette dressing on the side that he’s stashed in the office fridge, a label on the Tupperware lid lest anyone be tempted.

 “Okay well the rest of it, the ‘favourite subject’ section is empty, so is ‘words of advice’, ‘nickname’, and your quote.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“So you’re going to leave those sections blank?”

“Is that… okay with you?” 

“Is it okay with you? You’ll have this yearbook forever, you know, and what if when you’re older you want to look back at it and remember what you were like in sixth year and you’re disappointed in yourself that you never made an effort to fill out the form?”

“Okay, and what if I’m dead by then?”

Sam sighs again and stuffs the form back into the pile on the desk, “Fine, Be like that. I don’t care.”

“Well to be honest, it feels like you do.”

“No, you can do what you want.”

“Well… good.”

“Good!”

I shrug and slope towards the gymnasium doors where Alison is standing, smirking. 

“Were you just getting told off by Sam?”

“Yeah he’s on a yearbook committee power trip, he’s mad because I don’t want to fill in the form.”

“Well wait until the debs committee come after you.”

We push through to the hallway and make our way towards our lockers, “The debs committee? What do they want from me?”

“Money for tickets, apparently. It's been due for weeks.”

“Well I don’t want tickets, so they can piss off.”

“You’re not going?”

“No, obviously not.” I pull a frown to match hers, “why would I be going to the debs?”

“Because it’s the debs.”

“Good reason.”

“Like I just assumed, what with you having a girlfriend now, surely you’d like to go and get dressed up and do the whole thing. It’s, like, tradition.”

“I’m surprised you’re so into the idea. I didn’t think you’d be the kind of person who’d be up for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well it’s cringey, isn’t it? Getting dressed up in a little suit and standing around on someone’s front lawn drinking from champagne flutes that only get dragged out for special occasions. The whole tradition is stupid, with that flower thing you put on the girl's wrist and all,” I shudder with embarrassment, ���Wouldn’t you just feel like you’re play-acting as a sophisticated adult to some extent?”

She smirks, “You don’t think I’m sophisticated?”

“I don't know.”

“And you don’t think I’d like to have a cute little corsage on my wrist?”

“Would you?”

“No, I think they’re weird, but I’d still like an excuse to wear a dress and do my hair up. We’ll get a free shot of sambuca too.”

“Well, mine is yours.”

As Alison unlocks her locker I fling mine open to dump my books in. I haven’t had a lock in years. What would anyone want to steal from me anyway? All I have is textbooks with the covers ripped off and notebooks with their whole lower third damaged and bleeding ink from the time a water bottle opened inside my school bag.

“Is Michelle against the whole thing too?”

“I assume so.”

“You assume?”

“Yeah, I can’t see her being jazzed about it. It’s not really her thing.”

“You didn’t ask?”

I move on swiftly, “Who are you going with?”

Alison smiles, “I’m going to two debs, actually. My own, obviously, and the boys school one. I got asked last week.”

“By who?”

“The guy I’m going out with.” 

I poke my head around the open door of my locker, “Alison, do you have a boyfriend?”

She wiggles her shoulders with delight, “Yes. At least I think so, we haven’t, like, had the conversation officially but I think it’s safe to say we’re together together now.”

“That’s great! What’s his name?”

“Aaron.”

“Uh huh, and what’s he like? He up to it?”

The bell suddenly sounds for the end of break and we sigh as the hallways fill with frantic footfall, clanging lockers and swooshing doors. Alison slings her school bag over one shoulder. “We can catch up about this later, maybe. Do you want to meet me after school for a walk or something?”

I hesitate, and she starts babbling, “Or, um, wherever, like, I know-”

“Yeah it’s just-”

“If you’re busy-”

“We’re not really supposed to be friends, are we?” I blurt out, and her face looks stricken. Her hand on the strap of her bag clenches, white over the plastic buckle, “Right.”

“It’s just, like, with me having a girlfriend and stuff… She’s not really a fan of me hanging around people that I used to… like-”

“Hm. So I suppose you having less time for me this year wasn’t really by accident, then.”

I don’t know what to say. Someone bumps their bag against my elbow as they push past us and I stagger closer to her while she takes a decisive step back, maintaining our new distance.

“It’s just with Michelle and everything. You know how it is.”

“How insecure is that girl anyway? You and I haven’t done anything in over a year. Since way before you got together.”

“She just doesn’t like the idea.”

“Of me?” She scans my face for some semblance of meaning to all of this, her blue eyes big and wounded. “Okay well, suit yourself then, but this is just...” She can't muster the words for exactly this is, instead she pulls a disgusted face at me that might as well have been a boot to the crotch.

“Come on, Alison, no matter what I do I’m going to end up upsetting someone…”

“No, I get it, it's better it’s me.” She plasters a big smile on her face and whirls around, and I watch her, black patent shoes clacking against the linoleum, hair swishing, arms swinging, and she’s gone. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[meekmedea]

AU idea- at first Felix and Clemensia work together because they want to increase their own chances of winning.

For Clemmie, it’s because Reaper will interact with her if she gets Dill the treatment she needs.

For Felix, Dill is going to last a lot longer if Reaper is an ally.

Then they get attached/emotionally invested. Dill is pretty young, older than Felix’s younger sister, but in a way reminds him of her. Clemmie and Reaper build a tense sort of rapport and they’re each thinking it’s only an alliance, nothing more. But when Reaper snarks something under his breath and Clemmie laughs, they realize - Oh. Huh. Maybe you’re not that bad. 

They try to pretend they’re not that attached – but Felix and Clemmie can both read each other fairly well. And they’re like, okay you don’t want to see them die either, do you?

Plan: get those two out. Except things go off script when they broach the topic with Reaper and Dill. 

Reaper: You’re getting the rest of them out too, right? 

Unfortunately (for Felix), he was talking with Reaper and he folded under his intense glare. “Yep. Of course we are.”

The plan has now been updated to - get them all out of here. 

They’re going to need a lot more help because smuggling 24 tributes is a lot harder than just 2. 

Clemmie asks Reaper to keep an eye on the other tributes then because if anything goes wrong, security will 110% be tightened. 

Because everyone knows some tribute-mentor duos get along a lot worse than the others. (ie. Coral and Festus. Livia and Facet.)

Reaper: How am I supposed to do that?  Clemmie: With your charming personality. 

Somehow this is enough to avoid Arachne/Brandy’s death. Reaper is watching that day, and manages to haul Brandy away before she manages to cause harm. 

The group project still goes on. Coriolanus wrote it, Arachne yapped on a lot. Clemensia was a bit distracted but gave occasional input. 

Coriolanus tries not to side-eye Felix when he appears to walk Clemmie home. (Fun hc: While Felix lives in the Corso. He lives extremely far from where Clemmie lives. So to Coryo, something's up.)

Nobody gets subjected to the snakes the next day. (Thank Arachne. She made such a fuss about having to put her hand in the tank, Gaul just gave up and didn’t make anyone do it.)

Clemmie (+ Felix) have to work on finding more sympathetic mentors to help this escape attempt. 

Recruits: Sejanus, Persephone, Lysistrata, Pup?

Also Clemmie and Felix have recently been meeting up at night by the enclosure to discuss with Reaper & Dill

Paid off the peacekeeper to look the other way (Felix) 

Someone owed her father a favour (Clemmie)

Discussion includes - who not to invite onto this plan. 

Felix: Absolutely not Coriolanus. Have you met him?  Clemmie: That’s my best friend you’re talking about.  Felix: I thought I was your best friend.  Clemmie: This isn’t kindergarten, Felix, I’m allowed to have more than 1 best friend.  Felix: But it’s Coriolanus. Need I say more? Reaper: He’s got a point. I don’t trust the blond. Felix: Ha! See?  Reaper looking at Felix, then saying to Clemensia: You need better friends.  Felix: Wait, what? Reaper, what is that supposed to mean???

[starlightiing]

💗+yukierre please?

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

Yukierre my beloveds <3 I struggled with this all day between meetings and other things. I hope it ended up okay.

It's difficult to make a hotel room warm and comforting, Yuki has come to learn. Difficult, or perhaps even damn-near impossible. No amount of fluffy throw blankets, candles, or appropriate mood lighting have been able to capture the essence of calm that he's hoped for. The lavender smells nice, sure. The blankets look cozy, sure. The lighting is dim and gentle, soft on the eyes - yeah, sure.

But is it enough? Does it bring the comfort needed to someone after a stressful day?

"What is this, Yuki?" Pierre's voice filters in from the entrance to the suite, and, well, he's out of time now to make it any better. He will just have to find out, soon enough.

"You made it here quicker than I thought." Yuki greets him with a tight smile, stepping out from the livingspace and over to the kitchenette where Pierre is softly closing the door behind him. Exhaustion is written into Pierre's features, a stark contrast to the bright smiles and comfortable, relaxed posture he is so used to from Pierre. It makes something inside of Yuki's chest ache viciously.

"I wanted to get away from those assholes." Pierre replies simply, his eyes darting around the room. "Now tell me, what is this?"

Yuki decides not to ask who 'those assholes' are in specific - though he's fairly certain he has a good idea. Dwelling on the events of the day is the last thing he wants for Pierre, though, so he eagerly accepts the change of subject.

"Uh, for you. It's...relaxing?"

"Are you asking me this, or telling me this?" A smirk curls its way back to Pierre's lips and Yuki wonders if he should feel so relieved to see someone smile again.

Then again, he supposes he's never really felt any semblancy of normalcy when it comes to Pierre.

"Telling you. You said your day was stressful, so I wanted to..." Yuki gestures around behind him, to the blankets carefully adorned on the couch and the candles flickering on either end table. "Make it better."

"You-" Pierre looks absolutely astonished for a moment, eyes widening as the realization seems to sink in for him. "Because I am having a bad day?" He asks, incredulous.

"Is it too much? I just wanted it to be calm." Yuki circles Pierre's wrist with his fingers, leading him gently over to the couch. He picks up one of the blankets - the extra fluffy one, of course - and wraps it around Pierre like a cape. "Now lay down with me here."

Yuki is first to toss himself down on the couch, spreading his legs apart and opening his arms up as an invitation for Pierre to fit himself into Yuki like a puzzle piece. There's still a faint expression of disbelief on Pierre's face as he crawls onto the couch, but the ease in which he slots himself into the empty space around Yuki is such a beautiful thing. Before Pierre can rest his head down on Yuki's chest, Yuki grabs hold of his cheeks with both hands and smiles at him.

"I hope this can help you to feel better, Pierre." he says, leaning in to capture Pierre's lips in a kiss. It's soft and slow, gentle in every way - and Pierre does not push for any more than Yuki is willing to give right now. Their breathing echoes in the otherwise still silence of the room, loud and passionate, with the occasional hum of contentment at the much needed affection between them.

When they break apart, Yuki can see that Pierre's cheeks are flushed and he's breathing a bit harder - but most importantly, he's smiling. One of those real, genuine smiles that captures every ounce of light Yuki knows exists within Pierre's heart.

"You spoil me too much, Yuki." Pierre whispers after a few moments, leaning over to press a kiss to Yuki's cheek before settling himself down comfortably against his chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Yuki says in response, his hands immediately working their way through Pierre's hair. It's getting long - but Yuki doesn't mind it at all. It's just as soft and as silky as ever, and it smells faintly of vanilla and tea tree oil. "Relax now. You earned it, I think."

Pierre chuckles softly against Yuki's chest, nuzzling into the warmth and comfort without a single moment of hesitation.

"Only if you promise to kiss me like that again soon."

Now it's Yuki's turn to laugh, his heart soaring up into the clouds with the amount of affection he has bursting through him for this man. This silly, handsome, ridiculous man.

"Yeah, it's a deal."

[fever-fluff]

Home III

Part II , Part IV

Word Count: 1.2k (not proof read) The three begin their journey, the path becomes a little more steady for Azriel's companions. Who they've invited along becomes much clearer...

They had gathered again at dawn, Mor had sent word just before Aodhan had bid his goodnight and slipped into his own room. It seemed Azriel was eager to join their cause, but for whatever reason, she'd have to figure that out later.

Feeling the goodbye Azriel and Mor had shared sent something warm yet sad through her chest. From what Mor had shared, the two were close, and now having to part after only being reunited. She felt a small pang of guilt wash through her, but it was gone as quick as it came.

They'd set out not a moment after, her mare Cara taking off into a swift gallop, the muscles of her strong body straining around her legs. Cara had been her companion for years now, trusting her was like second nature as she felt the wind press to her face, the solidness beneath grounding her thoughts of her body being in free fall. Azriel and Aodhan flew in tandem, the beats of their wings in her ears let her know they flew above her. She laughed to herself remembering the shock in Azriel's voice as he'd seen her familiar, Brien, shift his form of a docile feline to one of a swift hawk, taking off in front of them all. Ever the noble one, making sure the way forward was clear of things she couldn't see.

"He enjoys putting on a show" she had said to him, his sound of agreement still full of wonder.

Although she'd barely spoken more than a few words to the male, his hands remained a steady thought in her mind. She'd expected some roughness to them, from what she'd gathered of his build with her breeze moments prior. He was steady, in every sense of the word. The gush of air had swirled around him easily, no snare from a twitch or slight movement. He had felt like a predator, unmoving, waiting for the right moment to pounce. The wings were the same, sure of the space they occupied, unyielding. His hands had been like nothing she'd ever touched before. The deep ridges, the smoothness that separated healed over wounds to the roughness of the little skin that remained. Fire had done this, hot scorching fire eons ago. It was a miracle he could feel anything at all in those hands. She'd never forget them, couldn't even if she tried.

The journey wouldn't take them long. Inderre was as close to North as you'd get before you reached Monteserre and Valhallan, both of which they'd avoid, slipping though the small strip of land in between the two borders, unclaimed, and they'd reach the passage for her home.

Samhain was a month and a half away, not much time at all really. She'd spent longer from it than she'd hoped, Aodhan had come to request her back not even a week ago, the chieftains restless for her return. She supposed it was natural, the unease. No one had ventured from the Islands in her almost seven hundred years of existence. But, times were changing, and the islands needed to change with it. They'd been apart from the world for too long, while they were safe now, she needed to ensure that lasted. It only took one wrong move and their hidden world could be deemed a threat to be eradicated.

Azriel's presence with them was a welcome one, to her at least. While Aodhan had been buzzing with energy beside her when they were first introduced, she had felt the disdain for the male roll off him in waves after that. She couldn't blame Azriel though, from what it seemed the male was out of his depth for once. Her eyes were always a sore subject for those around her. She could sense the stares, the questions lingering on their tongues. She had gotten used to it fairly quickly, with her winds filling in for the sense she lacked. They paved a new world for her, singing in her ear all she needed to know. Their voices filled in the rest of what the breeze could not tell her, and all Azriel breathed was solitude.

She could feel him now, pressing between the currents of air, parting waves invisible to everyone but her. His gaze strayed from the path ahead of him from time to time, and flitted to the top of her head, no doubt wondering if she'd slip from her saddle.

They'd stop for a day or two in between, and each time she told him of her home and the festival he'd been hurriedly invited to. "Samhain is a time of rebirth. We let go of what no longer serves us and welcome in the new. It marks the end of our farming season the the entry into the dark time of year." Azriel had set down the roasted meat he was eating as she explained. "We usually celebrate the most on the Eve of All Hallows, when the veil between our world and the next is at its weakest, and the ancestors of our home can watch over us, but it usually lasts for a week in all."

She heard Aodhan make some off handed comment about the more...debauched happenings during the time of year, and Azriel's loosened laugh following had her own chuckle coming forth.

They had fallen into a silence save for the crackle of the fire after that. Aodhan had deemed it time for him to wander, to which she'd reprimanded to not go far. While they were far off the beaten track, the woods didn't take kindly to rowdy intruders. Aodhan had waved her off but grabbed his hunting knife to stave the lecture on her tongue.

She faced the fire as she heard the last of his footsteps in the foliage soften to nothing, and felt Azriel turn from where he'd seen her son go off to her. "If you hadn't mentioned he was your son I would never have guessed"

She smiled, "he takes after his father more than anything." There it was again, that silence. But there was something more this time, something cold and silent and-

The first tendril snaked across the ground beside her closest to the male, slowly inching itself closer to her hand that propped her up as she leaned back. She didn't move, detected no malice or ill intent in its movements, but she still couldn't place exactly what it was.

It slowly creeped to her hand and that was when she felt another of the same being at her legs, moving to slide over her knees. She heard Azriel's intake of breath, and the almost silent swear under his breath.

"Are you going to explain what exactly has become interested in me?" she kept her voice even, but with his reaction she wasn't sure if she should have stayed in her position as long as she had.

They're my... shadows." At the mention of them, the wisps which had slowly encased her lower legs and her hand became slightly heavier, as if Azriel had given them permission to.

She huffed, lifting herself and her hand. The shadows followed the movement, and circled it still as she brought it up to her face. While she couldn't see, the natural movement usually eased the discomfort of those who could. "Hello little one."

It tightened slightly on her, nothing painful, more solid in its hold. At last she turned her head to Azriel, "and hello to you too, Shadowsinger."

Taglist @mis-lil-red , @justdreamstars , @florencemtrash

[rex101111]

thinking about Gladiia/Kal’tsit, about how two of the most fearsome people on the planet find peace in each other’s presence, and about how they’re both so wounded and tired and old that they don’t really bother hiding their relationship or whatever but don’t really advertise it. But they both have such a reputation that barely anyone asks about it besides those who know them very well and just want to make sure everything is going alright...or those who want to mess with them or stir up trouble.

I’m thinking no one on Rhodes Island asks Kal’tsit about it because the one time someone did, probably W to try and tease/put her off balance, Kal’tsit quietly and politely shooed everyone except the asker out of them room, and then gave a very long and very detailed description of the last time she and Gladiia had time to spare for a night. Those who dared put their ears to the door to try and catch a clue of what she was saying couldn’t sleep for a week. W herself looked like she walked through a warzone, muttering about “how long?” and “do limbs rotate that way?” and “she involves the fucking spine?” and other such things for a few months before she never broaches the subject again.

For that reason nobody bother’s Gladiia herself about it. The Abyssal Hunters still having a kind of air of mystery around them so they just...leave them to their business. Laurentina, on the other hand, has no such hang ups. One day the group (+Irene) are just hanging out and this happens:

Specter, munching cheetos: Hey, Swordfish, you’re boinking Kal’tsit, right?

Irene: *starts chocking on fries*

Skadi, raising her head from a nap she was having on Specter’s lap: Of course not, I’ve been here longer than the rest of you, and I know enough about the Director to know that, if anything, she’s the one boinking the Captain.

Irene: *still chocking on fries but louder*

Gladiia, calmly sipping her coffee while very obviously not hiding a few scratches on her shoulders that weren’t there the day before: The boinking is fairly even handed, all things considered. 

Irene, finally getting the fries out, gasping for air: WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE LIKE THIS?? 

[siilvan]

The people have spoken, and they want PetraxYuri NSFW Alphabet 🤭

PetraYuri NSFW Alphabet

You're officially to blame for me not working on Bloodsport today. I mean, I probably will after this, but you're to blame for it taking longer lmao. Not complaining, like I said privately, I was already planning an NSFW alphabet for Petra and I love talking about these two 🤭🤭

This will cover NSFW subjects (obviously) and briefly touch on some sensitive subjects like SA, abuse, trauma, and PTSD. If that's not for you, feel free to scroll <3

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex.)

After sex, Petra is the type to want to cuddle and bask in the afterglow of it. She thrives off the intimacy and comfort that comes with laying in his arms, especially since sex is a very vulnerable time for her.

For Yuri, he gets very lazy after sex and just wants to cuddle, so they're compatible on that front. Depending on how they're both feeling, they're either spooning, laying with her head on his chest, or vice versa.

They'll get cleaned up eventually, once she's able to drag herself out of his embrace and he's able to let her go. There's plenty of days where the cleanup actually consists of Petra laying in bed while Yuri takes care of her because, despite her protests and insistence that she can handle it herself, he refuses to let her lift a finger.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and their partner.)

For Petra, her favorite body parts on herself are probably her breasts, hips, and thighs. She's pretty genetically gifted on those fronts (PCOS is a curse, but a blessing in terms of giving her extra fat in all the right places), but she also works hard to maintain them. She's also pretty proud of her ass and toned arms, the latter of which she's worked out religiously while trying to keep up with her team.

On Yuri, one of her favorite things about him is his hands. Dexterous, strong, experienced, and the very things that made her discover she has both a hand kink and a tattoo kink lol. She loves it when he touches her and lets her mind drift off to some unholy places that would get her banned from any church in her country. Also, his arms and chest. Strong and warm, she feels safest in his embrace.

For Yuri, his favorite body part of his would probably be his hands or his mouth. He knows he's skilled with his hands and there's few things he enjoys more than making her come undone with just his touch. He indulges in the way the lightest brush of his fingers can make her shiver. Despite him being a fairly quiet person at all times, he's damn good at using his mouth to drive her closer to the edge, whether it be with words of praise or his mouth on her skin.

On Petra, his favorite things are her breasts and thighs. What can I say? He's a simple man who loves having something to hold and squeeze. She's called her tits "stress balls" in the past and he uses them as such, always grabbing and kneading at them like a cat when they're alone (something she's not complaining about, they get heavy and she's happy to let him support the weight) or using them as a pillow instead. His favorite place to rest his head is her lap, though. At the end of a long day, it's all he wants to do, and he's never one to complain about having them wrapped around his head, either. Again, he's damn good at using his mouth.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically.)

Inside. Something they discovered fairly quickly is that inside is where they both wanted it to go. She's got an IUD that she makes sure to replace when needed and takes the pill, they're smart about it. If not inside, then she prefers to swallow or let him paint her stomach and thighs. The latter is messy, so... they tend to clean up quickly despite the sight of it easily pushing them into another round.

D = Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs.)

Every couple has their secrets... including these two.

The dirty secret they'll always keep close to their chests is how, one time, after they hadn't seen each other in far too long, they just couldn't wait until they were off base to enjoy each other again. It didn't help that they'd be stuck there for at least a few days and they wanted each other now.

A single kiss very quickly led to them hiding in one of the small alleys between buildings, with Yuri holding her up against the wall and Petra biting his shoulder just to keep quiet. It was late, it wasn't like they fucked in broad daylight in the sightline of any poor rookies coming out for a smoke break, but there was a small group that got dangerously close to seeing the pair in a very compromising position.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

For Petra, she's decently experienced. She's unlabeled (with a preference for men), but has slept with both men and women before. After some things that happened in her early teenage years, she was hesitant to approach the subject, but lost her virginity with her ex (mentioned in her backstory) when she was about 21. Since that breakup in 2014, she hasn't been in any relationships, but has had a handful of one night stands over the years – not because she enjoys them, she never has, but she craved any physical comfort she could get during a very dark time of her life.

For Yuri, I firmly believe he's a little less experienced than you'd think. Not because he couldn't easily drag a woman to bed if he wanted to, but he's a busy man who has led a chaotic life. He's had little time and little interest in romance until Petra, but that's not to say he doesn't have any experience at all. He's had one or two longer term partners, a handful of shorter relationships and flings – mostly in his teenage years and twenties – and a couple one night stands, but after he got involved with the special forces and all the convoluted shit that came with working with people like Barkov or Makarov (I'll expand on this in Petra's fic lol), he just didn't have the time or trust for anything.

F = Favorite Position (Self explanatory.)

It might seem basic, but missionary is one they've always enjoyed. The intimacy that comes with being face-to-face, Petra allowing herself to be pinned and trapped under his weight... it's also easy to switch from this to an even better position: a mating press. Thank god for Petra's focus on flexibility in her training, because Yuri will fold her in half once he gets lost in it.

A couple other beloved positions are cowgirl (+ reverse), spooning, and her sitting in his lap in front of a mirror as his fingers work their magic. They usually just go for whatever they're feeling at the time.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Typically speaking, they're a little more serious in the moment. Both Petra and Yuri are people with some... pretty intense trust issues, honestly. It's something that brings them together, but also something that leads to them viewing sex as almost too vulnerable a thing. It leads to overthinking and self doubt, which presents itself as an overly-serious need to please.

As trust builds and they become more secure in not only the relationship and each other, but also in themselves, sex goes from a stressful experience to something far more lighthearted and fun. Petra's a damn tease when she wants to be, always pushing his buttons and egging him on when she wants to play, and Yuri in turn is the type to "discipline" her through edging her for eons (which, she loves, as it just means more time spent under him).

With the fun comes jokes and laughter, and with that comes moments where they pause to appreciate what they have. Breaks between rounds are usually filled with stupid giggling and heavy make-out sessions, they really just can't get enough of each other.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

For Petra, she's seen enough infections and nasty cuts from using a razor or scissors with a fatigued mind in the AFAB patients that have ended up in her care. She prefers to just wax it all off and/or use an in-shower removal cream. It's not that she cares about being bald, she just doesn't want to deal with the maintenance on top of everything else or the discomfort that comes with having hair. It's quick and easy, two of her favorite things.

For Yuri, he didn't particularly care about trimming or maintaining a certain look before he met Petra. He trims his hair because it's what she's comfortable with (and he wants to look good for her, the absolute simp). That being said, one thing Petra does love about him is his body hair – his chest and arm hair is one thing, but it's his happy trail that drives her crazy. It runs right through a sizable scar on his abdomen (five points to anyone who can guess what it's from) and always sends her to her knees.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Their first few times weren't necessarily all-too romantic, per se, because they were both horribly worried about something going wrong. Either they do something wrong that drives the other away, or the other suddenly decides to betray them in their most vulnerable state.

That never happens, though, and things only get more romantic as time goes on. Kissing, hand-holding, pressing their foreheads together, staring into each other's eyes... despite neither of them being much for PDA beyond holding hands when they're somewhere safe, sex is an extremely romantic time for them.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon.)

For Petra, despite having an above-average sex drive, she's never really been one for masturbating. Her mind has a tendency to wander when she tries to fantasize, either to work she feels like she should be doing or to less savory places that completely pull her out of the moment. She's tried watching porn to solve this issue, but it doesn't help – she starts asking herself the most stupid questions, like "Was this was actually made at home, or is the set and camerawork designed to make it look that way?" or "I wonder how much money they're making off my single view?" or, worst of all, her mind still drifts off to those unsavory places.

For Yuri, despite his natural sex drive being a little lower than hers (until he meets Petra, that is), he's a little more forgiving with himself and fulfilling this basic need. When he was younger, he'd jack off at least 2-3 times a week, but after the shit he went through after joining the military, he lost a lot of his desire to do so. He's never been the type to watch porn because he finds it awkward, nor is he going to be an idiot and try to jack off when someone could walk in, so he's gone incredibly long stretches without it. Like I said before – until he meets Petra. Even before they got together, he was making himself come undone to the thought of her several times a week.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks.)

Voice kink. He's not much of a talker, but he's happy to spout any filth or praise, so long as it keeps her whining and keening for him.

Praise. Self explanatory, this goes both ways.

Breeding/creampies. Even if they're not explicitly saying it, they both love it.

Overstimulation. This usually happens in the form of Yuri driving Petra into a sobbing mess, but she loves how sensitive he can get.

Edging. They like testing each other. Again, usually Petra's the one on the receiving end.

Phone sex/mutual masturbation. These go hand-in-hand, specifically when they're forced apart by their responsibilities.

Marking. Bites, hickeys, bruises – they try to keep it to spots easily hidden by clothing, but occasionally someone gets a little too eager and forgets that.

(Light) bondage. This is one that took a decently long time for them to build up to. Between her existing trust issues and her prior assault, it was a bit of a challenge for Petra at first, but Yuri is a patient man happy to wait for her to be ready.

Nicknames. Mainly for her. He could add "my" in front of almost anything and send a shiver running down her spine. One "good girl" is all it takes to get her going some days.

Grinding. Okay, I'll admit it: there are times these two barely reach taking their clothes off. He loves watching her chase her high on his lap or thigh, and she loves watching his resolve break while he's still fully-dressed, sometimes even in some of his gear.

Sleepy sex. Whether it's before bed or (preferably) after they wake up, they love it. They yearn for every domestic moment they can get.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do.)

Somewhere private, ideally. If they're somewhere with less privacy, like base (whether it's 141, Chimera, etc.) or otherwise a more public place, they try to behave. If there's a room they can safely sneak off to and lock the door behind them, though? It will be used. Their respective offices and bedrooms are their usual spots, if they just can't resist.

At home (because eventually they'll live together off-base), though, no spot is off-limits. Bedroom, couch, kitchen counters, dining table, shower, desk, against the wall, on the floor... it's a challenge to think of where they haven't fucked, honestly.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going.)

They're both major teases once they get more comfortable (and even a little before), so that's usually what leads to one of them breaking and dragging the other to the bedroom, if they even make it that far.

For Petra, what gets her going pretty much 100% of the time is watching Yuri do something with his hands. It can be something as mundane as him filling out paperwork or cleaning a gun, or something as intentional as him running his hands along her curves. Seriously, major hand kink on this one.

For Yuri, what never fails to get him going are the damn doe eyes Petra gives him whenever she's in the mood. She doesn't realize when she's doing it, but the way she looks up at him through her lashes and subtly pouts her lip, it's impossible to resist. Also, just watching her bend over or stretch can do wonders for his imagination and force him to drag her away to "share" his thoughts with her.

N = No (Something they won’t do, turn-offs.)

Anal. It's just not for them (or me lol).

Pain. Some low levels of it is okay, I did say that they love marking and a spank or two isn't unheard of, but they've endured enough pain in their lives already. They're each other's safe places, where they can be confident that every touch will be with nothing but love under their fingertips, they don't want to be hurt or hurt each other.

Threesomes+. Now, while this is subject to change in some fics because I'm an author with whorish thoughts, these two don't like sharing each other. It's not that they're possessive and jealous, they're just... protective and jealous. Petra's only time with more than one person (only one was involved in a sexual sense, but there was another participating) was non-consensual, so it's a "no" for her.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

In the past, she was used to giving and seldom receiving. She just felt awkward having all the attention be on her and she always felt bad over how long it took her to get off. That stopped being acceptable after these two got together. If there's one thing Yuri loves, it's having her thighs clamped around his head as he spends ages between her legs. No amount of time is too long, he's patient and so very methodical when it comes to getting her off.

Like I said before, Petra was always used to being the one giving, and she expected much the same with Yuri. There is some awkwardness thanks to his size and worries about hurting her, but once they get more comfortable? She'll be waiting for him in his office with her hair tied back. It's all about give and take, they never let the other spoil them without returning the favor. It doesn't usually take long for her to get him off this way, though – the mere sight of her kneeling on the floor, staring up at him with those doe eyes seeking approval, with her spit dripping down his length... yeah, that's really all it takes.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual is preferred most of the time. Sex is a time for them to let go and be their most vulnerable selves, so they like to take their time with it. That being said, Petra likes it rough when she's frustrated and just wants her mind wiped clean at the end of a long day – she gets off on the way Yuri can manhandle her so easily, and he can't get enough of the way she mindlessly babbles his name and scratches at his back whenever he fucks her into the mattress.

Basically, it depends on their mood. Slow and sensual, fast and rough, slow and rough... the latter is probably their favorite, honestly. Nothing makes her arch her back off the bed and dig her nails into his skin like those long, deep thrusts that come with it.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are not uncommon, surprisingly. Once these two get a taste of each other, it's like all the years of neglecting themselves pours out and their sex drives skyrocket.

They're both high-ranking officers well-respected by those under their command and workaholics in desperate need of a proper vacation, getting caught in such a position is a nightmare for both of them (mainly for Petra, Yuri cares less about respect).

If they're miraculously at base at the same time for an extended period of time, chances are, they'll sneak into each other's rooms or find somewhere to meet pretty regularly. Getting to take their time is always preferred, though.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Besides their hard no's, they're generally willing to experiment with new things. It's all part of feeling safe with each other and trusting the other not to do anything without their consent. Also, preferably somewhere private, just in case something does go poorly and they need time to recover.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Anyone who has been subjected to my Yuri rambling knows one thing about this man: He's got infinite fucking stamina. He can go for several rounds and still be ready and eager for more – he enjoys seeing how long he can last.

Part of what earned Petra her callsign is the way she can get beat down and always get back up. Yes, this extends to sex for her. It takes a long time and a lot of effort to properly tire her out, so these two can and will go for an egregiously long time whenever they get their hands on each other. Seeing how long they can last and who tires out first is a game for them at this point.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

After the way she was raised, Petra felt very awkward and ashamed when it came to things like pleasing herself. She never really had toys of any kind because of it – on the rare occasion she'd masturbate, it was usually with her hands or the shower head, if she was desperate. She tried using toys with her ex, but he was the type to insist that he "didn't need the help."

With Yuri, she expected the same response. When she bought herself a small vibrator in an attempt to start pleasing herself when he wasn't around, the part of her that still felt guilty and ashamed over it made her keep it hidden from him.

However, once he found it, he didn't let it go unused. It was something they introduced slowly, but now he loves using it when he's edging or overstimulating her.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease.)

Like I've said a few times already, they're both major teases once they get more comfortable with each other. They're not mean about it (most of the time, at least), but they love riling each other up and seeing just how far they can push each other before they snap. Flirting, lingering touches, whispered innuendos... Petra almost died of embarrassment the first time she sent him a photo of herself, but Yuri's reaction to it made the embarrassment well worth it. Nowadays, she's happy to send him photos and videos, and he even surprises her by sending some in return.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

At first, she was too shy to make much noise. Labored breaths and soft whines were all he got out of her, with her covering her mouth whenever she worried about getting too loud. Yuri didn't accept this, though. He'd pin her hands with his own and drag such sweet sounds out of her – drawn-out whimpers and moans, high-pitched whines, sharp gasps and stuttering breaths. Every breathless "yes," "please," "more," and "Yura..." reminded him that the wait was worth it.

Likewise, he was damn near silent at first. Partially because he was focused on listening to her, and partially because he wasn't used to someone wanting to hear him. Every low grunt and growl that left his lips, every moan that she practically begged him for, every breath of his that fanned across her skin... The only sound she enjoys more is his voice and the words he says to her. When he seems to forget any language but his native tongue, with praise and sweet words in Russian and broken English being all he can muster, that is when she knows he's finally let go to be with her fully.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character.)

For Petra: She's used to being the caregiver, both in her career, her platonic relationships, and her romantic relationships. With her ex, she was frequently giving without receiving much in return. With her one night stands, there was little to no aftercare provided to her. Because of this, she's always desperately sought out someone who would take care of her instead. After finding this in Yuri, she started letting herself fall into a more submissive state. She still cares for him like she always did for her past lovers, but it's more 50/50 now.

For Yuri: Some selfish and possessive side of him has a dream of being more open about their relationship. They don't hide it, but they limit themselves on PDA and don't often disclose their relationship to people they can't trust not to use the information against them. The thought of sitting at his desk or in a meeting with her on his lap, or even going so far as to get caught in the act just so people will see how well he takes her... it's a nastier fantasy that he keeps to himself (she knows, she can read him like a book) for both of their sakes.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Petra's fit and has a strong body thanks to a lifetime of training. Despite this, she's naturally fairly curvy and has PCOS, so she carries more fat than most people who live similar lifestyles. Most of it is concentrated in "ideal" spots, thankfully – thighs, hips, ass, and tits. Her bra size is 34DD (the joys of her body claim being a model lol) and her breasts are quite heavy, so she tries to control them with sports bras and tight-fitting clothing. Surprisingly, she's got nice shoulders from all the strength-building she's done to keep up with the rest of her team. Carrying medical supplies on top of the regular gear she needs has helped in her maintaining that look, too.

Yuri, on the other hand, is broad. Strong shoulders and a broad back, well-defined after years of military service. He's not some dehydrated, rigid bodybuilder, he's a man who eats well and takes care of himself – he's not soft and still has well-defined abs, but there's some fat over his muscles that just makes him look even bigger (did I mention he's around 6'2"/188 cm in the reboot?). He's littered in scars, both big and small, with his biggest being the older wound on his center stomach. I don't care that the reboot took away his tattoos, he still has them to me. Also: Uncut. 6.6 inches/16.8 cm length. 5.2 inches/13.2 cm girth. Sits heavy and low, even when hard. I will not elaborate further (yes I will).

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Both of them thought their sex drives were fairly low before meeting each other. For Petra, it came from a place of shame and unfavorable past experiences, whereas for Yuri, it came from a place of sheer exhaustion and never having the time to even consider that side of himself.

Once they find each other, though? It's like those years of neglect jump out and force them to act. They will go several times a night, several nights a week, and still crave more. The more comfortable they get and the more the relationship develops, the more their hunger for each other grows. There's times it feels almost scary, just how badly they need each other once they get attached.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards.)

Depends on the circumstances (at work, at home, stress, fatigue, etc.) and how long they went for. On a good night, they're passing out while tangled up in each other's embrace not long after getting cleaned up. On nights that are a little less idealistic, though, they'll stay up talking about whatever comes to mind – because, a dull conversation is usually leagues better than the things keeping them awake – and trying to appreciate every moment they have together.

Sleep usually comes to them eventually (because there are nights where the best thing they can ask for is some hours of peace), even if it claims one of them faster than the other. They're each other's safe haven and each other's home, there's nowhere else they'll ever have an easier time finding reprieve.