#<- vague nut just in case

[pinchan]

please please please mappa don't take the demon slayer route with the jjk anime PLEASE

[momotonescreaming]

Zombie AU loosely based on the old tv show In The Flesh about the aftermath of a mini zombie apocalypse. So tw for talks of death and allusion to suicide.

There was a Zombie rising in Hawkins but it wasn’t like the movies. It didn’t destroy the whole world, humanity destroyed and living in ruins for hundreds of years. All the dead didn’t even rise. One night, only those who died in the last few years rose from their graves across the world. They were dead men walking, they could smell blood, and killed, and ate peoples brains but there was one major difference. Their bites weren’t contagious.

So while the army and small town militia protected the living and hunted the undead - there were scientists working on a cure. And they actually sort of found one. A new drug, that when injected into an undead’s spinal column once a day - will restore restore consciousness to the undead and all memories of who they are. They will no longer be rabid and desire to kill.

So the government rounds up all the undead left, forcibly medicates them with open wounds at the back of the neck, and entered into a rehab program in ‘Treatment Centres’ so they can be re-entered into society. They are given shitty therapy, thick make up and contacts to cover up their pallid skin and colourless eyes, and a new name. They aren’t “Zombies” - they’re Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferers. PDS. All the undead fucking hate that name. And there’s a whole range of them, from the very young to the very old.

There’s Will Byers. Small and scared, who went missing from his house and was found floating in the Quarry. He doesn’t talk about how he got there, but will silently draw during group therapy sessions. Drawings of broken coffins, of pushing through the dirt, of the quarry, of monsters, of ripping a person apart. Joyce and Jonathan take turns driving the hours it takes to get to the centre, both of them bursting into tears when they see Will. Small and timid, dressed in plain government issued clothes and a trash bag in hand - his funeral suit. What he rose in. They take him home and his bedroom is exactly the same as it was.

There’s Robin Buckley. A tragic accident. Hit by a car when riding her bike home from school. The school band played at her funeral, and she was buried in a dress she’d have hated but her mother would have loved. The therapist in the treatment centre talks about hobbies. Something to do when she goes back home. Robin doesn’t mention the trumpet. She tries not to think about how she doesn’t know if she can even play it now that her lungs no longer breathe air. She goes home and her parents are simultaneously too overbearing, and not bearing enough.

There’s Barb Holland. Went to a party at Steve Harrington’s house, had a drink, injured herself, slipped, hit her head, and then drowned in the pool while her best friend was having sex upstairs. The Holland’s mourn, Nancy blames herself and Steve, while Steve tries not to think about it. Barb comes back and has to learn to deal with a best friend who moved on without her. How do you learn to live with the consequences of your own death?

There’s Steve Harrington. He wanted to be a normal teen again. He didn’t want to the be the rich kid who had someone die in his pool. He’s heard the rumours. That he killed her and his parents paid to cover it up. Steve fucking hates it. The whispers in the halls, the stares. Steve fucking hates that a part of him can believe that his parents would. Anything to save their reputation. The famed Harrington name. They came back home from their trip because of this. And his father was pissed. Not upset that a girl died. He was angry at Steve. He yelled and screamed and threatened and berated and Steve shrunk down under his father’s steely gaze. He was a fuckup and useless and a good for nothing waste of space. He let a girl die. He continued to date Nancy, he loved her but she didn’t love her back. She tells him Barb was dead because of them. Because of him. He was bullshit, his love was bullshit, and she didn’t love him back. Steve goes home alone and bleeds out in the bath.

He’s one of the last ones left at the treatment centre and his parents hire a taxi to take him home. They couldn’t sell the house. Not when two kids died there. So Steve goes home and realises his parents are never coming back. He is dead, and he is alone.

There’s Chrissy Cunningham. A suffering girl keeping quiet. Headaches and nosebleeds and nightmares and shaking hands. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her but she knows she can’t tell her mother about it. She goes to parties and cheers at Jason’s basketball games and shopping with her friends. It doesn’t get better so she goes to the table in the woods and asks to buy drugs. Eddie makes her feel calm. Safe. He’s ridiculous and silly and isn’t as mean and scary as he seems. She has a seizure in his living room and dies on his floor.

There’s Eddie Munson. Wanted for a murder that wasn’t a murder and on the run from a homicidal basketball player and his stirred up mob. By the time the coroner rules the death the result of an undiagnosed medical condition it’s too late. He hides at Reefer Rick’s place until he runs out of food and has to venture out. He spies the green of a letterman jacket and ducks into an alley. Only he’s too late. He gets cornered by Andy and Jason and they kill him in an alleyway for murdering Chrissy. They call it justice. He slowly bleeds out and his last thoughts are of his Uncle Wayne.

His Uncle Wayne who picks him up from the treatment centre as soon as he gets the call and greets him with the biggest hug Eddie thinks he’s ever had. Wayne cries and Eddie would’ve bawled his eyes out if his tear ducts still worked. They go home in the middle of the night when no one can see them. The papers weren’t kind to Eddie and people aren’t kind to the undead neither.

All the undead go home, get their makeup, their medication, and find out that as part of their rehabilitation into society the young undead need to finish school. The adults have to go through community service. No other options. Government mandated. There are others like them at least, and they’ll try to keep them together, but they’re unable to say who. So they trickle back to school, hope that enough time has passed that no one recognises them, and try to spot the other undead in the halls. Solidarity and all that.

And Eddie doesn’t quite know what to do with himself when his now undead crush Steve Harrington is walking the halls. He remembers Steve’s death. The rumours. The funeral. The way everyone pretended to know him after death, just for a hint of his popularity. The way his parents packed up and moved town. And Eddie sees him now, hunched down over himself, not making eye contact. A shadow of his former self as he moves through the Hawkins High halls like a ghost.

Ah fuck. He's talking to Harrington, isn't he?

[sals-soda]

"all of you are actually secretly one of us so you have to accept us, hehe" radqueers are literally insane. also, they used a map emoji and a paw emoji to convey "map zoo" so i think that's officially my second-least favourite censorship i've seen, next to antis referring to CSAM as "cheese pizza"

[ivymarquis]

The Neighbor

Hello friends I fucked off for a month but I’m back and I bring Price smut as an apology for my absence. @sky-is-the-limit’s “Im here to do what your boyfriend cant” prompt has lived in my brain rent free ecer since I read it and while I didn’t follow it verbatim, I did keep in spirit with the theme :)

Also womp I was gone for the Price challenge by @glitterypirateduck but this actually checks off a couple of the prompt options (first time being intimate, a confession/secret is discovered/revealed) so I’m submitting it.

There are a lot of tags. Make sure you read them.

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 4.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Accidental voyuerism by virtue of living in an apartment, the reader has a dogshit boyfriend at the beginning of the fic (there is no cheating), slut shaming (from the dogshit boyfriend), these two idiots are down bad for each other, sex toys, oral (F!receiving), unprotected PiV, gratuitous squirting because I’m me, not really heavy on BDSM elements but mentions of the following: bondage/restraints (John uses his hands, nothing crazy), something akin to subspace from how good the nut is, aftercare, John is a prick to the now-ex, very brief angst due to a quick misunderstanding, very vaguely implied somnophilia, rampant abuse of italics. Lemme know if I missed anything.

His neighbor is clearly used to Price being deployed.

She’s a sweet thing, really, and on the whole isn’t that disagreeable of a neighbor.

He just has one problem with her (not even her, really) that is a thorn in his fucking side- her boyfriend.

The boyfriend was not an issue when they first met- wasn’t in the picture at all.

And no John most assuredly hasn’t had it out for the guy since Day 1. The fact that John had gathered himself up to ask his pretty neighbor out when he came back from his latest mission, only to find out about the new boyfriend, does not color his impression of the other man. He’s grown and this is not the first time his advances have been turned away for whatever reason.

But there are, to his knowledge, no true redeeming qualities about the man and he is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

He catches bits and pieces through the walls. The boyfriend is not attentive, caring, or sweet to her. She is treated as a guest in her own home, and twice he’s heard bellowing shouts that had Price at the door with his fist banging against it- both to shut him up and make it exceptionally well known that if the boyfriend thinks intimidating a woman is going to fly, that Price will not hesitate to kick the door in.

The most appalling part of it all is that John has a front row seat to just how atrocious he is in bed.

For the life of him John does not understand. It’s not even like the lad’s a good lay.

He’s heard many stories of women tolerating absolutely atrocious behavior from the muppets they were with because he knew how to make them see stars.

That is exceptionally not the case here. And John is rapidly finding his patience wearing thin at continually being subjugated to his pathetic performance.

So what the hell is it about the boyfriend that keeps his neighbor so enamored with him?

John stares at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan turn as he tries to tune out the thumping of the headboard against the wall.

He thinks that if the man was just a bad lay and completely incapable of getting her anywhere, that would be one thing and John would continue to be frustrated but ultimately understand. But it’s the way he seems to actively ruin it anytime she has the audacity to enjoy having sex with him that truly grates on John’s nerves.

It’s not often, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. The thumping of the headboard is accompanied by her sweet voice moaning lowly in short staccato notes as the boyfriend appears to finally be doing something right.

The thumping comes to a halt, and John groans in frustration.

“Why’d you stop?” He can hear his pretty neighbor lament through the thin walls.

“Why the fuck are you being so loud? Trying to give the neighbor a show?”

John squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The fucking muppet can’t do anything right.

If the neighbor was his, John wouldn’t give a fuck who heard. Let all the neighbors know that he could fuck the sense clear out of her pretty little head. John could show the muppet what loud is.

“No! I’m not trying to do anything- it just felt good,” she defends herself.

“Well, be quieter about it, no one needs to hear that. You sound like a whore,” the muppet snaps at her irritably, and John is nearly at his fucking limit when the god damn headboard starts to thump against the wall again.

“Get out.”

Oh.

John is impressed- pleasure and pride coursing through him as his sweet neighbor stands up for herself rather than letting that ungrateful swine continue to berate her.

Good fucking girl.

“What did you just say?” The thumping stops.

“You don’t get to call me names. Get off of me and get out.”

For all his sins, it seems even the muppet has a line he’s not willing to cross.

There’s a shifting as he presumably pulls out and gets off the bed- the words are muffled but the tone is clear. The muppet isn’t above laying into her verbally though consent is (smartly) a line he won’t toe.

And good thinking on his part- John would probably tear through the drywall and turn him into a chew toy had that conversation gone in any other direction.

The door slams loudly, announcing the boyfriend’s departure.

John can’t help but keep his attention on his neighbor to see what her reaction is going to be. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not follow the boyfriend and wring his neck in the parking lot.

There’s no conventional guide for how to address this situation with your neighbor. ‘Hello, I’ve fancied you for quite some time and that ungrateful prick somehow swept you up before I got the nerve to ask you out. I've had to hear you have the most lackluster sex ever for the past several months, and equal parts want to check in on how you’re doing emotionally after his latest stunt, and also want to bend you over and pin you to the mattress until you’re squealing. May I come in?’

He can’t say he is too surprised to hear things slamming about in the apartment- his pretty neighbor sounding more pissed off than upset, catching snippets of “Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that” and “Motherfucker couldn’t find my clit with a map and a headlamp but can find the audacity to call me names-”

Okay, John has to fight back the urge to laugh at that last one lest she hear him. She’s quite the viper when (finally) provoked, and it just endears her more to him.

She doesn’t appear particularly distraught, the slamming and huffing and muttering concluding with her tossing herself on the bed.

It’s a very common occurrence that after the neighbor’s rendezvous with her lazy boyfriend, John is treated to a show where she finishes herself off with her toys.

The boyfriend, like many inadequate men, is threatened by them and John has heard the snide remarks.

Hilarious, he finds it, that a man incapable of getting her off is so adamant that she gets rid of them.

She hasn’t listened, clearly, as the low sound of her vibrator can be heard through the wall.

John is soon graced with the sound of her panting moans. His cock stiffens in interest at her voice, which is a frequent occurrence. She makes such pretty noises, mewling and whimpering as she works herself up.

Tonight is a whirlwind of emotions for his pretty neighbor, and at the end of the day her no-good boyfriend left her high and dry.

John will gladly enjoy the consequences of the boyfriend’s actions, one hand wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in time with her whines.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to make her see stars. He’d be so good to her.

The reality of his job makes dating a logistical nightmare, part of what stayed his hand for so long.

He’s not blind. His neighbor is kind and sweet with a killer smile and wandering eyes. He’s caught her more than once ogling him when he’s returned home in uniform, or more nondescript tactical clothing.

Feeling her gaze on him always makes him puff up with pride, enjoying holding her attention no matter how fleeting. If he takes his time after a run and makes a point to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his brow where she can see it, that’s his business.

So John thinks he’s dreaming when he hears that lovely voice whimper his name from the other side of the wall.

He stiffens, quietly waiting to see if he hears it again.

“John- Oh, fuck- please,” is all he needs to hear before he’s well and truly lost any semblance of patience.

Only having the presence of mind to dress himself enough to not warrant any errant looks from the other neighbors, he is at her door in a second.

It’s only after he knocks that he realizes he may well have killed whatever momentum she’s built for herself- given her muttering as she approaches the door- but he fully intends to make up for the stolen release.

She opens the door without looking through the peephole, obviously expecting it to be the ex based on the vitriol poised to spill at John’s chest, approximately eye level with where the (hopefully ex) boyfriend would be.

Once again he has to stifle a laugh, finding her a comical vision when the anger on her face melts away as her eyes flick up to his face with the realization that it is him at the door and not the object of her ire.

“What are you doing here, John?” Christ, he’s always been a sucker for pretty doe eyes. If he held even an ounce less of restraint he’d be mounting her right here for everyone to see.

“I’m here to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

Even as he reaches out to pull her in for a kiss, he’s watching her body language- gauging if she stiffens or shifts away.

She doesn’t.

In fact, her arms loop behind him and pull him closer, tugging on his hair and his shirt.

John’s not wasting any more time than he already has, walking her backwards into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before reaching back to lock it- he’s got no desire for any interruptions from wayward former boyfriends.

They separate for a moment as she paws at the hem of his shirt, clearly wanting it off of him. John is all too happy to oblige, preening under her attention. He’s always had the stockier build of a man who’s fitness came from utility in the field, opposed to the hard defined abs of someone who spends most of their time in the gym.

It’s cute, the way she has to pry her eyes up to his face- clearly liking what she sees and flustered by the fact that John can see her staring.

“I broke up with him,” she clarifies.

“Good,” is his simplistic response, although if John’s being honest with himself he doesn’t really care about the finer details. The little prick never deserved to have her and John finally has his chance to prove himself worthy.

“The bedroom’s this way,” she prompts between kisses.

Their clothes are peeled off in turns as they stumble towards the room. The layout is inverted to John’s own flat nextdoor, so despite having never stepped foot inside before he guides her to keep her from crashing into something behind her.

By the time they are collapsing against her bed, they’re stripped of everything except a scant thong on her and his own boxers.

She’s just so delightfully soft in his grip, John can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her.

The feeling is reciprocated as she pushes up off the bed to grind against him. As much as he’s relishing in them dry humping and making out like teenagers, he’s wanted her for so long and now that she’s finally willing and pliant underneath him, he’s itching for a taste of her.

Kissing his way down her body- starting at her jaw, the column of her neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum; latching onto each nipple and teasing them to hardened peaks before continuing his path down.

He’s compelled by the urge to turn her into a chew toy as he reaches her belly, although he stifles that urge and keeps his teeth to himself.

He can’t quite resist giving a small nip as she squirms, clearly excited by the implication of where he’s heading.

There’s a damp spot on her underwear already as he kisses along the waistband while his hands tease with the elastic on either side of her hips.

The sound of her breath hitching in anticipation makes him smirk, attention drifting further south.

The fabric is in his way as he presses a kiss against her clothed cunt, gripping handfuls of her hips to keep her still as she bucks in his grasp.

“Easy, sweetheart- we’ve got all night,” he soothes before moving his attention up one thigh to the backside of her knee.

Those sweet thighs are splayed open for him, giving John unfettered access as he continues to tease.

“When’s this sweet cunt been eaten last, hm?”

He knows he’s heard her give that undeserving muppet head, but can’t recall any reciprocation occuring. There’s not much that can shock John at this point in his life, and he’s willing to roll the dice by dragging up her now-ex because he knows this poor thing hasn’t been eaten until she’s begging him off in ages.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” she answers breathlessly, anticipating having her thighs twitching in his hold.

Out of the corner of his eye, John spies a torn condom wrapper that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Well that keeps him from having to ask two questions, then. Smart girl.

“What a shame,” he tsks lightly, peppering kisses back up and down her thigh.

Deciding that she’s waited long enough and he’s had his fun being a tease, John is quick to remove the scant lace and pull it off of her legs before tossing it to who-knows-where.

The sounds she makes as he makes a meal out of her is music to his ears. Each hitched moan and breathy whimper makes him stiffen in interest.

His attention shifts to focus on her clit, tongue circling the sensitive nub as his hands hold her hips in place.

As focused as he is on what’s right in front of him, it takes a moment for John to realize that she’s stifling her noises. One hand is fisting the sheets beneath her while the other is clamped across her lips.

Well. That simply won’t do.

The ex may have trained and shamed her into silence, but John didn’t make it as a military captain without learning how to break someone else’s bad habits.

He ignores her whimper of protest as he stops, one hand abandoning the softness of her hip in favor of grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“None of that,” he admonishes gently, pressing a kiss to one thigh. “Let me hear you.”

“I-I’m too loud,” she protests and for a split second John sees red.

To his credit, he does not leave her wet and leaking on the bed to go bludgeon her ex to death with a blunt object.

“No such thing, sweetheart,” he soothes before having a thought to tease her. “Who are you worried is going to hear you?” He asks kindly, a shit eating grin as he speaks again, “the neighbor?”

Her wide eyed expression is thoroughly scandalized and John can’t fight the chuckle that escapes him.

He hasn’t released her wrist yet, deciding that it’s time to get back to his meal. If she abandons gripping the sheet with her free hand to cover her mouth again, he simply plans to hold both of her wrists.

It’s tentative at first, still not entirely trusting John at his word that he wants to hear her.

But John is all for positive reinforcement as a motivator, crooking his fingers to stroke that one spot that makes her see stars to encourage more from her.

She’s a quick study, although when she releases the sheet John is watching her like a hawk.

Rather than clasping over her mouth again, John is pleased when her fingers end up burying in his hair.

More than happy to let her guide him, John takes his cues from how she pulls at his hair. The feel of her thighs twitching as she breathes in staccato breaths is all the reward he needs.

“You’re getting close,” he says against her cunt, pointing out the obvious before getting back to work. She’s anxious, he thinks, the closer she gets to her climax. Poor girl doesn’t know what to do with herself with an orgasm she hasn’t had to put all the work into.

“D-don’t stop,” she stammers, rewarded immediately with John redoubling his efforts.

He’s not going to stop. Pretty thing like her deserves nothing less than laying on her back and enjoying getting her cunt eaten out.

“O-oh fuck,” is his only warning before she’s gushing on his face and John is like a kid on Christmas morning.

He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s squirted, too caught up in the pleasure of her high.

He’s always thought it was hot- now that he knows his pretty neighbor is a squirter he is more than willing to get on his knees and pray to whoever is listening that this isn’t a one time event. He’ll do anything to get her to keep him.

Even as her high fades he doesn’t let up on her, continuing to work his middle and ring finger inside of her. All he wants is to see her cum- wants to see those eyes roll as she squeezes them shut in anticipation.

Despite pulling his face away from her wet pussy, he doesn’t leave her clit unattended for long before his thumb is gently circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

Kissing his way back up her body, John can’t help but be pleased as she pulls him in to make out with him. Snatched gasps and bucks of her hips grace his ears as he works her from orgasm to the next, the wet sound of his palm slapping against her.

“John Im gonna cum again,” she whimpers in warning.

He feels like a god with the way she stares up at him reverently, eyes wide and desperate for another climax.

“Come on,” he goads, “Show me- let me see your face when you cum.”

Christ if her leg twitches any harder it’s going to start vibrating, serving to only encourage him.

“O-oh,” she mewls, “God- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-“ she’s pleading with him like he wouldn’t sit at her feet if she asked him to.

The bewildered look on her face is darling, and John nearly finishes untouched; he's so wound up it’s not going to take much.

A few choice thoughts keep his own eminent climax at bay and buys him enough breathing room. She bucks and trembles in his hold, a high pitched squeal escaping her as he proves not only can he make her cum twice, but he can make her squirt like a faucet twice.

As soon as she’s starting to come down from her high she’s pulling at him, drawing up her knees to spread her legs in invitation.

“Greedy girl,” he teases as he kisses her- wet fingers abandoning her cunt in favor of manhandling her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions himself.

“Please, please, please-“ she begs so prettily for him, pleading for him to do exactly what he’s been fantasizing about for months.

He’s not a small man and mindful of that fact, but she’s well prepped and takes him easily. The desperate whimper that escapes her sears into John’s memory.

The buildup of everything finally gets to him as he wastes no time setting a steady pace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Let me hear you,” he encourages as she cants her hips in time with his, whines of pleasure escaping her on each thrust.

“John, please,” she begs, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as she watches where they’re joined.

“Eyes up here,” he instructs and Christ he almost loses it when her gaze flicks from between their bodies up to his face.

His hands find hers, fingers lacing together as he lowers his torso in order to kiss the ethereal creature underneath him.

She whimpers into his mouth, her sounds only encouraging John.

Everything about her is warm and inviting, from her soft skin to her warm cunt and the way she sings for him at every thrust.

Maneuvering them so he can grip both her wrists with one of his hands, the other immediately dives between their bodies to find her clit again.

His pretty neighbor has spent months not having an orgasm she didn’t give herself, and John is determined to prove to her that he can give her as many as she can handle.

“John I can’t cum again,” she pleads even as her thighs shake on either side of him.

“Yes you can,” he assures her. “One more time for me, yeah?”

Now, should she insist she’s done and satisfied then John would leave her clit alone and finish up their fun. As it is, though, she nods in acquiescence before the trembling in her thighs increases.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers continuing their steady pace around her clit as she creeps closer to the edge.

She’s babbling in his ear as he presses a kiss to her temple and he knows she’s almost there.

“Good girl,” he praises again, a cocksure grin pulling at the corners of his lips at her immediate response.

“My good girl,” he ups the ante, testing her response to John staking a claim on her. And God did it ever work. That last little bit is all it takes to finally tip her over.

She clenches down on him like a vice and John immediately loses it, groaning low as the haze of his orgasm washes over him.

It’s everything he wants- she’s everything he wants as he recovers enough from his climax to finally notice that the bed is an utter mess beneath them.

It’s not his immediate concern however, more interested in soothing her through the come down of her high. She’s shivering underneath him, eyes glossy from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Just breathe for me.”

He gathers her up in his arms, listening as her heartbeat relaxes in time with his own.

Eventually when enough time passes she’s more alert and happily snuggling against his chest. After giving her a chance to rest he herds her along to the bathroom so she doesn’t give herself a UTI. She tries to brush him off but her legs are taking their sweet time cooperating again.

Of course, she’s not exactly a recruit taking a piss test so he gives her her privacy and she’s able to return on her own albeit on shaky legs.

John pets at her head idly, attention drifting in post coital bliss as his hand strokes down along her back.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in my bed,” she giggles deliriously after a stretch of quiet.

“Only reason I wasn’t here sooner was because of that muppet,” he assures her. He doesn’t want her thinking that this is a one time thing for him. He’s wanted her for so long he can’t possibly be expected to turn her loose at the end of the night.

“I only dated him because I didn’t think you liked me,” she scoffs at herself.

“Oh, it was nearly the first moment I laid eyes on you. But with my work I kept talking myself out of doing anything,” he tells her. “Kept telling myself you deserve better. And then you brought the muppet home and kept him around,” John grouses good naturedly at her. “Think they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I plead temporary insanity,” she jokes, snuggling closer against his chest. “But I got rid of him. And you finally made your move.”

He hums in agreement, sleep pulling at him now that he has her tucked up against his side.

John doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes with a jolt to the sound of pounding on her door.

He’s only been out for an hour or so when he checks the clock on the nightstand, his neighbor sprawled out next to him.

Well, now he knows she snores. The sound is light enough to have never heard it through the wall, but curled up next to him she’s like a cat purring loudly in his ear.

And he’s exceptionally pissed right off at the fact someone has woken him up. Especially considering he has one guess who it is.

He fully debates answering the door buck ass naked to teach the prick a lesson about banging on doors after midnight but settles on tossing his joggers on.

Much like when she opened the door for John, the ex is automatically trained at where her head would be rather than looking at John’s face.

“My eyes are here,” he quips sarcastically. “Why the fuck are you banging on the door this late.”

“Why th-“ the ex starts to parrot back before cutting himself off. “Why the fuck are you in her apartment? Why isn’t she answering?”

“She’s asleep,” John answers simply. There’s no obligation to explain the why and how he ended up in her apartment.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s asleep? How is she asleep after she just dumped me? And why the fuck are you here?”

The boyfriend (the ex boyfriend, he thinks with glee) is either oblivious or…

Well. The ex boyfriend is oblivious. Let’s just keep it at that.

“I’m here because you can’t do your job right. She’s asleep because I can. What part of that is confusing?”

“That stupid slag’s been fucking you behind my back-“

“No.” John is somewhat mindful of not giving a full on “screaming at recruits” bellow, but his voice booms into the corridor outside the apartment anyway. “You watch your fucking mouth. This” John gestures vaguely at his own presence in her flat, “just happened after she dumped you. You don’t get to hurl insults.”

“She hopped off of my cock and straight to yours- what the fuck else is it?”

“You couldn’t get her off,” John hisses in annoyance. “I’ve had front row seats to your shitty little performance more than once. Not 5 minutes after you leave and she’s having to handle it herself.”

“I can’t be expected to compete with a fucking vibrator!”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t need one to get the job done. Poor girl could barely get her legs to work to go to the loo and not give herself a UTI. Your skill issues are what started all of this.”

“You know what? Fucking have her. I don’t need this shit.”

Ah yes, because John needs the ex’s permission to date a newly single woman. Absolutely. That’s entirely how that works.

“Never needed your blessing. Now fuck off. I’m trying to sleep.”

The ex responds with a two finger salute as he spins on his heel and storms off.

John is almost tempted to grab him by the back of his neck and turn him into a chew toy. Given his military career, his patience for muppets giving him attitude is virtually nonexistent.

But the siren call of his pretty neighbor is a stronger pull than the muppet can ever hope to achieve. John’s succeeded in his mission to run the prick off, and he’s going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before seeing if she’s interested in another romp in the morning when she wakes up.

The bedroom is dark and poorly lit but John immediately picks up on the silence.

Rather than being sprawled out and snoring like when he left her, she’s quiet and curled into a ball.

She’s awake.

“Sweetheart?” He calls softly.

She jolts, fabric rustling from the sheets falling off her as she sits up.

“You’re still here,” the surprise in her tone cuts, although he knows she didn’t mean for it to.

She seems to realize how that comes across and clarifies further, “I- I heard the door shut.”

It falls into place for him then- she woke up to the sound of the door and John nowhere to be found. She thought he’d left.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he consoles, making his way back to the bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he assures her while gathering her back into his arms.

Sleep comes back readily once the two of them are situated back in the bed.

Come morning, John’s got the patience and the presence of mind to throw a towel on the bed. He finds out for himself that his neighbor makes the prettiest noises with her arse propped up in the air and her face still buried in her pillow.

He can’t help but laugh later when she texts him that one of the neighbors made a noise complaint.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

💕 twst 2024 valentine gifts! 🎁

***Please note:*** Sharing merch images + news is not intended to encourage and/or to pressure anyone into making purchases. It is up to the individual consumer to be informed and to choose how they spend their money.

For general information about how TWST Valentine Gifts work, check out this post.

For character signatures and the messages from previous years, check out this post.

The gifts for 2024 are 100 ml fragrance sprays. These are not perfumes, they are more like room sprays. According to Yana, they worked with professional perfumers and the fragrances were formulated with each character's "image" in mind! These each come with a unique bottle label, plus a ribbon and a little wooden charm with a matching character motif on it. You can soak the wooden charm with the fragrance and use it to diffuse the smell through a room.

Preorders are open until 10 March 2024.

(Warning: in the case that these contain alcohol, it will not be possible to send the fragrances overseas due to shipping regulations against flammable materials. The paper goods—the 2024 Valentine Gift messages—will still be able to be sent out.)

Each character has their own unique scent. The following are summaries of what each spray smells like overall (according to official posts), but each also has its own more detailed descriptions of the top, middle, and base notes on their individual website postings.

Heartslabyul

Riddle - refined rose (geranium, rose, honey)

Trey - powdery mint (spearmint of course the guy obsessed with dental hygiene smells like MINT, white flowers, powdery musk and balsam)

Cater - lemon herbal (lemon, herbs like juniper, amber and cedar)

Ace - naughty cherry (cherry, almond and rose, vanilla and woods)

Deuce - citrus rhubarb (citrus and rhubarb, rose, warm musk)

Savanaclaw

Leona - clear wild (rosemary, neroli, musk and sandalwood)

Ruggie - dried nuts (hazelnut, vanilla, creamy musk and dry woods)

Jack - calm pear (pear, osmanthus, amber)

Octavinelle

Azul - salty milk (salt and minerals, herbs like sage, milky musk)

Jade - bergamot amber (bergamot, herbs, patchouli and amber)

Floyd - aqua vetiver (Japanese pepper yes, a literal pepper, a fresh bouquet, vetiver and musk)

Scarabia

Kalim - mystical musk (citrus, white flowers, creamy musk and sandalwood)

Jamil - smoky herb (spicy herbs, white flowers, musk and smoky leather)

Pomefiore

Vil - elegant fruity (cassis, white flowers, vanilla and musk and sandalwood)

Rook - dry green (eucalyptus, geranium, tonka beans)

Epel - spicy apple (cinnamon, apple, vanilla and sandalwood)

Ignihyde (warning that these were vaguely worded compared to the rest of the fragrances)

Idia - clean musk (“something refreshing”, lily of the valley, sweet musk why does bro smell sweeter than most of the others www)

Ortho - bluish clean (rosemary and other “fresh” smells, clear plants/greens he’s touching the grass that Idia refuses to)

Diasomnia

Malleus - deep oak moss (forest, spices, sweet and earthy vetiver and oak moss)

Lilia - historical depths (citrus, roses and white flowers, thick musk and sandalwood)

Silver - musty green (black pepper, cedarwood, warm sandalwood and musk)

Sebek - honest aroma (rosemary, white flowers and spices, patchouli and oak moss he shares a base note with Malleus, this was 100% intentional)

Grim + NRC Staff Shoot, no Rollo, Fellow, or Gidel valentine gift :(

Grim - innocent soap (citrus, lily of the valley, peach and musk he just hopped out of the bath)

Crowley - mysterious calm (***fatty aldehyde***, white flowers, cedarwood and amber)

Crewel - sweet charm (amber, woods, sweet oak moss)

Trein - tense wood (spices, dry woods, “sweet tangy tone” sorry, the base was vague)

Vargas - manly musk (smoky spices, incense, vetiver and leather and musk)

Sam - exotic bouquet (cloves, bouquet including ylang-ylang, tropical woods)

***NOTE ABOUT CROWLEY’S:*** I looked this up! Apparently, fatty aldehydes smell like fresh citrus but I believe the literally translated term is “fatty aldehyde”; not sure why it was worded like this. There are many forms of aldehyde and each smells different. For example, one form smells closer to a rose. Another supposedly smells like rancid butter 💀

[sxtaep]

THE HATING GAME - JJK

working together with your biggest competition was not something you saw yourself doing often. but fucking him one late night at office? never in a million years.

pairing — jungkook x female reader

genre — angst, smut

word count — 7.2k

warnings/tags — lawyer!jk x lawyer!reader, enemies2lovers, dom!jk, sub!reader, swearing, provocation, insults, petty arguing, vague mentions of murder/strangulation, jealousy, teasing, lying, denial, tension x100, improvisation, touching, so much sarcasm, explicit smut, light bondage, grinding, neck kisses, nipple play, tit slapping, begging, fingering, dirty talk, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), cunnilingus, choking, spitting, pussy slapping, tongue fucking, dick slapping (face), edging, crying, slapping (like once), spanking, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys), light pain kink, finger sucking, angry fucking, creampie, making out, cum eating, post-nut clarity, both very lost and confused by the end.

paired with this edit made by yours truly 🤭

a/n: hello and welcome to jahanara feeding into her office romance fantasies pt98583616 ��� please enjoy this very long and drawn out piece (similar to illicit desire) but more detailed, more descriptive and can be read as a stand-alone.

if you came from tiktok, hello and welcome to the dark side 😁 enjoy the long-awaited lawyer!jk au!

btw this fic has nothing to do with the book/movie called ‘the hating game’ the name just fit this ok 🙄

“We need to talk,” Jungkook’s voice causes your chest to falter as he enters his office, waiting for you to enter before shutting the door behind you and making home on the seat behind his desk.

“We can’t do this case.”

If you could burst out laughing right now, you would, but this was a professional work environment, “You invite me into your office, distracting me from my own work, just to tell me something I already know?” You make yourself comfortable in the seat opposite his, paying him a fake smile, “I don’t know why you’re panicking, we can easily get out of this. We can just say we have too much on our plate to take on a new case. There, done,” you shrug, leaning back in the seat without a care in the world.

Mr Jeon, your boss, thought it’d be a good idea to pair you up with Jungkook to work on a class case.

Why he’d even make that decision was beyond you. Neither of you got along well, trying too hard to one-up each other, spewing insults back and forth like there was no tomorrow. Failure to work well together in this case, you were both threatened with temporary suspension.

“Yeah, you’re forgetting one thing,” he says.

“What’s that?”

“My dad owns the fucking place.”

Yeah, your boss happened to be Jungkook’s dad, and honestly, it wasn’t such a bad thing. He was treated the same way as the other employees, sometimes a bit worse when it came to you.

You were his favourite employee, the absolute star of his team.

“He’s handed our current cases to another attorney so we can focus on this,” Jungkook groans, getting out of his seat to pace around your office as if he were going through a midlife crisis. He halts after a little dilly-dallying, “We should just take the suspension.”

"Pardon you, but I've got bills to pay, and I can't be having that suspension show up on my job record," you try to reason with him, but Jungkook didn't look very convinced. "Think about it this way…” you trail off, leaving your seat behind your desk to head over to him, standing confident in front of him, “When you're suspended, you're pretty much fired for an unfixed period.”

You were willing to work with Jungkook, just to get this whole thing out of the way, and there was only one way to get him on board.

Provoking him.

“I’m sure the Jeon Jungkook doesn’t wanna get suspended by his own daddy, right?” you taunt him, your voice getting quieter with each word.

Jungkook knew you were messing with him, and hated how you actually got under his skin, but with a defeated sigh, he agrees, “Fine, let’s win this case. How about we work on it over at your place? I’m sure you’ve got no plans for the weekend,” he scoffs, cocking a brow at your overly-confident form.

“I actually have a date this weekend,” you shrug, turning your back towards him ready to take your leave. “We can work on it later tonight, I’m leaving now.”

A date? There’s no way…

Jungkook is quick to rush to the door, blocking you from opening the door just as you reach out for the door knob. His arms were extended out to his sides, stopping you from leaving.

He needed to know who this guy was and why the hell he would go on a date with you of all people. “A date? Someone actually wants to sit and have dinner with you?” he questions, like it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. “He’s gotta be deaf or blind.”

Now, with shit like this, you’d walk away, but Jungkook rendered you trapped in his office, “Listen you conceited asshole,” your index fingers goes to jab at his chest and you have to force yourself to ignore how built he was under his shirt, “I don’t like you. Never have, never will. We’re all a bit different outside of work but I’ve restricted you from seeing that side of me because you don’t deserve it.”

It was a simple and truthful explanation, you hated Jungkook beyond words, neither of you had a relationship outside of the firm. Your work persona would definitely not attract a guy with how much of a workaholic you were.

You needed this date, as a break from all the hardships these cases brought you.

Jungkook pondered your words carefully. Maybe he was a bit iffy about not having a relationship with you outside of work, he didn’t wanna be just a “work colleague” or that “annoying guy from work. He had way too much pride for that.

“Now if you could please stop hogging the door, that would be great. I don’t think I wanna spend another minute with you in your office.”

“Likewise, Y/N,” Jungkook sneers as he steps away from the door. It doesn't even register to either of you that this could be counted as an argument. How easily you both bumped heads with each other would have to come to a stop now that Mr Jeon was keeping a keen eye on you two.

As the day comes to night, you were still locked away in your office, reading away at your newly appointed case details and taking brief notes. The details were… gory to say the least, and exceptionally hard to read, but being a lawyer, you’d gotten used to it, having read the worst of the worst during your career. It was pretty much a skill to read such gruesome and ill details of murders, kidnappings and assaults with a straight face.

You were lucky not to be the only one reading up on gore so late at night, Jungkook waltzing through your office without knocking (as he always did) with a cup of coffee in his hand. He doesn’t say a word and instead sets the cup on your desk and takes a seat opposite you.

You thought you were seeing things.

Jeon Jungkook buying you coffee? That’s a first.

You don’t say anything, reaching out for the cup and bringing it close to your lips, about to take a sip, but you stop.

“You didn’t poison it, did you?”

As the man was getting comfortable in his seat, he deadpans, “Seriously? What am I, five?”

“Mmm, you act like it,” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders and taking a sip of the coffee anyway.

Thankfully, you were still up and alive.

“Have you had a look at the case yet? It’s a lot of information,” Jungkook says absentmindedly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he propped his feet up onto your desk; a move you’d witnessed on so many occasions, you’d gotten too tired to reprimand him for it.

You set the cup down and speculate over the mess of paper on your desk with a sigh, “Yeah.. I think it might be the hardest we’ve gotten yet.”

You pull out a photo of the crime scene from under the file, sliding it towards him.

It was a very clear image of strangulation on the victim, faded blood and marks of red around the victim’s neck.

All caused by his own father.

“So what are we? Defence or Prosecution?” You’d usually decide this part on your own, but you wanted to hear his thoughts first and ensure he was on the same page as you.

“Easy,” his eyes dip down to your desk, analysing the photo, “We’re defence,” he decides with no hesitation, pulling on his tie to loosen it slightly around his collar.

“What? You wanna go Defence? Seriously?” You thought prosecuting would be the most obvious route to take seeing as the evidence pointed towards the father of the victim being the obvious murderer.

“I spoke with Jimin about it earlier and he also thinks Defence would be the easier route for us.”

“Oh, so it’s just Jimin’s word against mine now?” you arch a brow at him, tilting your head to the side, awaiting a bullshit answer from him.

From the tone of your voice, Jungkook knew you were slowly getting worked up, and quite frankly, there was too much at stake to be arguing when the case hadn’t even started yet. “You know what, we’ll be the Prosecution if it shuts you up.”

As long as you got what you wanted.

“So who’s taking you on a date this weekend?”

Jungkook’s sudden question surprised you. You couldn’t think of one valid reason as to why he cared.

“Um, you probably don’t know him, but his name is Jung Hoseok—”

“—I know him.”

Of course Jungkook knew him; the pair went to law school together but parted ways after Hoseok got a job as a district attorney in the states.

He only returned a couple years back after becoming a legal director at their opposing law firm.

You regretted giving away Hoseok’s name. Now that Jungkook, your absolute nemesis, knew your potential love interest, he was probably planning to absolutely shit talk you to stop you from finding love to feed his bitter self.

“I know Hoseok pretty well, actually. He’s not really fit to be a boss if I’m being honest,” Jungkook recalls, remembering many times back in law school when leadership roles in team activities were up for grabs and Hoseok would always steer clear of them. “Surprised he’s willing to date a bitch,” he snickers, waiting for you to cuss him out.

“Listen, you’re tired, I’m tired, I don’t wanna talk about who’s a bitch and who’s fit enough to be a boss… and it’s definitely not you.”

“Oh yeah? What does Jung Hoseok have that I don’t?”

“Compassion, respect, authority, control, not to mention, he’s quite the attractive man,” you shrug with a sly smile, continuing to boast about Hoseok and at the moment, Jungkook was regretting even asking in the first place.

He could be all that and more.

“But our relationship isn’t very deeply rooted. We’re not in love or anything, we’ve only been on one date so our relationship is at the minimum right now.”

Jungkook didn’t ask for a dramatic reading of your relationship, and he’d just about heard enough, “Yeah, whatever. Can you cook? You should cook for us this weekend. You know, get the brain juice flowing or whatever it’s called,” he stands up abruptly, stretching his arms above his head before heading over to your couch, slouching against the material as he looks over at you, awaiting an answer.

“Why would I cook for someone I hate?”

“You don’t hate me,” he throws back at you, a sly smirk adorning his features, “You pick fights with me and always get competitive, because when you overcome me, it makes you feel better about yourself.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, pondering his words a little.

Maybe he was right to an extent. Nothing felt better than being put against each other and reigning victorious. Everyone in the firm knew how competitive you both were and always steered clear of any kind of opportunity to compete with you.

You sigh and roll your eyes, “Hmm… Maybe I might just have a thing for you, who knows,” you respond casually, shrugging your shoulders just to mess with him a little. “But that’s what you want, right? Another girl to fawn over you?” you taunt him, keeping your eyes trained on him as you recall the number of women that had bombarded your office earlier today after you were counted ‘lucky’ for working with Jungkook, ‘the most attractive guy in the firm.’

Now that made him fix his posture, sitting up for what could only be the most predictable thing he’d ever heard, “Oh my god, I knew it,” he laughs, almost demeaningly, “Everyone and their mum has a thing for me, you’re no different,” he shook his head in disbelief, a large grin spread across his face. “So that’s why you always argue with me, huh? Just so you can talk to me? That’s cute, especially since it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you question, slightly offended.

“Because it’s gonna be fun having the Y/N, my biggest competition, falling in love with me, Jeon Jungkook. Imagine all the headlines that would make.”

God, he’s so full of himself.

As much as you hated how egotistical he was, you wanted to continue your little play act, rising to your feet and walking over to Jungkook by the couch and once near enough, you grab the end of his tie, leaning down towards him and pulling him close to your face with a deceitful smile gracing your lips, “Oh Jeon… You’re so smart, I can’t believe you figured me out so quickly…” you whisper, voice as soft as ever and something Jungkook had never heard before.

He couldn’t deny, your hold on his tie was probably the most attractive thing he’d ever witnessed, but he would never flat-out admit it to you.

Jungkook lifts his hand to gently rest against your cheek, merely trying to see just how far you’d go to keep this act up, “Mhm, I bet you like where we are now, don’t you?” he teases, his voice dropping several octaves and matching the volume of what was once your voice, now barely there as your mind went blank and his eyes proceeded to dance between your lips and your eyes.

Your cheeks had heated up drastically under his touch and you weren’t expecting him to make a comeback like that, and you really weren’t prepared to take things any further, but your pride would take a major blow if you backed out now.

Besides, the setting was perfect for that kind of moment; a near empty building, alone in the office, lights dimmed down, both tired and stressed out..

Your lips were mere inches away from his own and you could’ve kissed him if you really wanted to, and maybe, maybe you did want to kiss him—

No, that was the tense air speaking.

Just improvise.

“Mhm, this is exactly what I wanted…” you whisper, giving his tie one last tug till your foreheads were touching, “But I’m sure your hand can make-do in better places, don’t you think?”

Jungkook’s brow twitches, and you almost miss it, but it was enough of a sign to let you know he wasn’t expecting you to keep up. It wasn’t a problem for him though, the man was just as stubborn and prideful as you were, there was absolutely no way in hell he was gonna back down.

Not until you do.

“And what about yours, Y/N?” he challenges, eyes briefly peering down at your hand still gripping on the end of his tie, “I bet you’re really skilled with your hands, aren’t you?”

The real fun begins when the hand that was once resting against your cheek, drops a little lower, making home over the dip of your neck and Jungkook could feel your skin burn under his palm.

Your heart was racing as you discreetly pondered what he meant by that and once you clocked on, your body had stiffened, but you needed to seem unfazed, “Of course I am, probably more skilled than you at this point,” you shrug, gesturing towards his hand near your neck.

If he had the balls, he’d touch you somewhere more scandalous.

“Oh, is that right? You wanna bring my hands further down then, Y/N?”

Jungkook was testing you and your patience. If he thought you were gonna pussy out, he was wrong.

Your left hand grabs onto his wrist, right hand landing flat against his chest as you pushed him back against the sofa, and without even thinking of your next move, you impulsively make home on Jungkook’s lap, straddling his thighs as you adjust yourself on top of him. He watched on, slightly shocked and a little amused at the lengths you were going through just to prove a point.

With your hand wrapped around his wrist, you drag his hand down your body, slowly reaching your chest and stopping, “How about this?” you whisper, your voice on the verge of the faltering.

“Could be better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, sitting up to pull his blazer off his body, leaving it elsewhere and going back to his previous position, “Try this…”

He begins to pull his tie off around his collar, leaving it beside him for later use and then reaching up to unbutton his white dress shirt until hints of skin peeked through, “It’ll be better if you touch me yourself, but I’m sure you already know that since you’re so ‘skilled,” he says, his hands resting over your hips.

How long was Jungkook gonna keep this up? You were running out of ideas and though this was all a game, you couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit turned on, but how couldn’t you? You were sitting on his lap, your near-skintight skirt rolling up your thighs and you were almost certain he could feel the slight throbbing between your legs.

With one hand placed on his shoulder, the other reaching down to slip your hand past his shirt, your palms making direct contact with his built chest, God, you’re all talk,” you roll your eyes, leaning in to whisper against his ear, “Why don't you put your money where your mouth is?”

Jungkook throws his head back, eliciting a low chuckle, eyes meeting yours again as his palms made home on your thighs, squeezing your flesh enough to warm himself up, “If we continue, this won't be a game anymore…” he trails off, trying his absolute hardest to ignore the growing pain of his hardening cock under his slacks, “I won't be able to stop,” he continues, knowing inside he wanted this too, but was more than willing to back off if you seriously didn’t wanna do this, “Is this what you want?”

Fuck, of course you wanted this. Your body needed an output, some kind of relief. Just this once, you were willing to set aside your differences for what, ten minutes of quick relief?

You adjust yourself on his lap, your lace-clad cunt snug above his growing erection and you could've sworn you almost moaned at the contact. "Can you feel that?” you whisper, referring to the throbbing between your legs. "Is that enough of an answer for you?"

"Jesus Y/N," Jungkook nearly groans at the closeness. If he continued this game, he would cross a line that would be hard to come back from, and he was willing and ready to deal with the consequences to come.

With one swift move, he rests his fingers under your chin, tilting your head to the side to make room for his lips to attach to your neck, gently sucking and biting along your untainted neck didn't whilst he kept you distracted by the new sudden feeling of his large hands rocking your hips back and forth over his erection.

You elicit a soft sigh, eyes coming to a gentle shut as you basked in the soft pleasure, your soaked-through panties bound to leave a mark of your mess on top of him.

Jungkook pulls away from your neck, leaning back to admire your state; your cheeks were flushed pink, hair a little messy and a sheer layer of sweat adorning your chest, resulting in your blouse sticking to your body and arched a brow at you, “Take the shirt off for me, will you?”

You don’t hesitate to oblige, unbuttoning your mesh blouse with your eyes solely focused on him, and it seemed Jungkook had the same plan to just stare you down as you pulled the material off your shoulders, your well hidden assets finally coming in to view and Jungkook’s breath had hitched in his throat.

He didn’t know what came over him, or if he was just high in the moment, but you looked absolutely unreal; a simple yet stunning black lace bralette over your chest, your cleavage on full show and and it was everything he’d imagined. He inhales sharply, resisting the urge to just grab you, but Jungkook was a man of class (sometimes).

He gestured for you to remove the bralette and you did, hands reaching for your back to unclasp everything and let the material fall to your lap, freeing your tits right in front of his face and he was impulsively leaning in, briefly flicking his tongue over your hardened nipples before pulling away just to leave a ruthless smack over the expanse of your tits, revelling in the way your skin would redden and how your body would jump on top of him.

If he was feeling nice, he’d give in to you, give you exactly what you wanted, but to be frank, he wasn’t in a nice mood. He didn’t know if he hated you the way he did before all of this but God, was he gonna give you a piece of his mind..

Jungkook briefly slips his hand under your skirt and reaching between your legs, eager to feel just how soaked you were through your panties and boy, he was not disappointed.

Just mere talking and subtle teasing got you this riled up?

Clearly yes, your thighs were shuddering between his hand and you were almost embarrassed to be sitting where you were right now, “What are you waiting for?” you huff, frustration evident in your tone as you pulled yourself up to slip off your panties.

“I’m waiting for you to beg.”

“I’m not begging you—”

As soon as your panties were off, Jungkook was immediately pulling you back down onto his lap, now getting a real feel of your slick dampening his dress pants, “You’ll beg me, otherwise we can just wrap this up and call it a day…” he trails off, firmly gripping your hips as he pressed you down harder on his hardening cock, forcing a quiet moan to slip past your lips.

“Come on, Y/N… you know what you want, just tell me,” he whispers, eyes meeting yours and drinking in the irritation in them.

God, he loved irritating you.

Giving in just this once wouldn't hurt you, but you weren’t exactly the begging type of person, “I need your hands…” you manage to muster, your poor cunt practically leaking over his slacks.

“That’s not how you ask nicely,” Jungkook taunts you, throwing in a disappointed sigh, “Enlighten me, will you? How bad do you want them?” He leans back against the sofa, his hands rolling the hem of your skirt up over your thighs so he could have a clear cut view of your pussy, swallowing sharply once his eyes catch a glint of your flesh shining under the dim lights.

"Fuck you.." you grit. Jungkook stating the obvious was embarrassing for you; who would've thought Jeon Jungkook would be the reason for your desperation.

You could tell from the tone of his voice that he was enjoying tormenting you, and today was not gonna be the day you beg for him; you had far too much pride for that.

Instead of using your words, you grab ahold of his hand, guiding it down your body and between your legs. Once the pad of his fingers were against your clit, you wasted no time in rocking your hips against them. "I— I want your fingers inside me," you whisper against his ear, hoping he’d cut you some slack.

"Oh Y/N..." Jungkook shook his head disapprovingly. He quickly pulls his hands away to fetch his tie laying next to him on the couch.

You knew exactly where he was going with this and you were right; he’d grabbed your wrists and forced them behind your lower back, using his black tie to restrain your hands, and all you could do was shuffle on top of him, “I’d be careful when moving, wouldn’t want you to fall back,” he taunts you, a grin plastering his face as he pulled on the restraints one last time.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare you a minute to get used to the tie, his hand making home between your legs once again as he moved the pad of his fingers up and down against your swollen clit agonisingly slow, “Don’t you know your manners, Y/N? What happened to saying ‘please’ when you want something?”

You were falling apart on top of him, your hands clawing at nothing as you tried to remain composed. You felt absolutely hopeless, and giving in didn’t seem so bad right about now.

“I fucking hate you,” you seethe through gritted teeth, grinding yourself against his fingers seeing as his lace was too slow for your own liking, “Please, Jungkook…” it physically hurt you to say those words, feeling your cheeks swell up in embarrassment, “I wanna fuck myself on your fingers…”

Most certainly pleased by your answer, he doesn't waste any time, thrusting his index and middle finger into you so fast, a gasp was ripped from your throat. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Only a real slut would beg to get fucked by a guy she hates.”

His hands began to push in and out carefully, admiring your eventual fucked out state, "Fuck yourself on them, pretty," Jungkook instructs, gradually speeding up the rhythm of his fingers. "Or do you want me to curl them?"

It was a rhetorical question, already feeling him curl his fingers between your soft walls as you helplessly clenched around him.

It felt so good.

It was unfortunate your body was close to giving in, struggling to stay up on top of him but you tried to muster as much strength as you could to keep going, drowning Jungkook's digits in your slick as your hips moved up and down on his fingers at a similar pace to his wrist, “Jeon, I can’t..

"Oh? But you can argue with me, call me names, and make a fool of me in front of my colleagues?" Jungkook taunts, speeding up his fingers to a torturous fast pace that was sure to bring you closer to your high. "You can do all of that, but you can't fuck yourself on my fingers? What a pathetic bitch.”

He reaches behind you to untie the restraints binding your wrists together, letting the material drop to the floor behind you before he was picking you up and carrying you over to your desk, setting you down on the surface and pushing you to lie back ever so slightly as he dropped to his knees between your legs.

He split your legs apart, audibly groaning at the sight of your swollen pussy; clit peeking out and your tight hole desperately clenching around nothing. “Fuck… Look at that desperate pussy..” he mumbles to himself, fixing your legs over his shoulders as he leaned in, pressing the flat of his tongue against your cunt.

A content sigh left fell from your lips as he used the tip of his tongue to toy with your sensitive bud, causing your thighs to shake around his head. The repetitive movement had your body tensing and the moans you’d been keeping to a minimum now at the max.

“So— so good..” you whimper, gazing down at him. With your hands free, they moved to grab at his dark locks, shoving his head further between your legs till you could feel his nose repeatedly nudging against your clit and good god, Jungkook would go to hell and back to drown in your pussy for eternity.

He let out a muffled groan, sliding his tongue between your folds and sucking on your clit like his life depended on it, but he needed to pull away if he wanted to live to experience that.

When Jungkook pulled away, you whined, but he wasn’t gone for long, suddenly delivering a harsh slap to your cunt that made your body jump and left your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It stung, but it felt so fucking good.

Pleased by your reaction, he did it again, this time only harder, “Oh, so Miss Lawyer likes getting her slutty pussy slapped?”

Before you could even respond, Jungkook was biting on his bottom lip, not wasting another second before he’d spat right over your aching cunt, forcing you to arch your back off the desk as he watched the bead of spit trail between your folds in awe.

He leaned in again, shoving his tongue into your aching cunt and feeling your walls clench around the wet muscle almost as if you didn’t wanna let go and he found it beyond amusing, pulling away almost immediately just to spite you as he stood up to tower over your body; mouth glistening from all the slick and you couldn’t deny he looked like a hot mess.

What you didn’t see coming, was Jungkook grabbing your face, slapping you one as he squished your cheeks within his hold, forcing your lips to pucker as he spat into your mouth, the mixture of his saliva and your slick seeping down your throat as you swallowed with no hesitation.

He chuckled deeply, “Should’ve known an A class whore like yourself was into this shit. What do you think the jury would think about that, huh?” He continues to tug on your face, forcing you to keep your eyes on him so he could watch you break down before him.

Jungkook pulls you up and off the desk, standing tall and confident in front of you as you tried to regain a steady composure, almost stumbling.

“I don’t know how they’d feel knowing the slutty prosecutor got on her knees for the heir of this firm,” he starts, reaching out to wrap his hand around your neck firmly and pulling you towards him, “We should risk it and find out, huh?” he breathes out against your lips, low and hoarse and you had to squeeze your thighs shut from the flutters you were feeling between your legs.

“I’d rather throw dirt in my eyes than suck your dick,” you spit, shamelessly lying through your teeth and Jungkook immediately knew you were playing games.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” His hands shift from your neck to the back of your head, gripping a hand full of your hair and urging you to get on your knees and you did exactly that, making it easy for him to get you down as you tried your best to conceal the knowing smile growing on your lips but all you did was lick your lips up at him, anticipation clouding your eyes as you gulped.

The subtle action alone had his dick jumping in his slacks and he refused to wait any longer before unbuckling his belt and pulling pants halfway down his thighs, leaving a thick and oblivious imprint of his cock straining against his boxers right in front of your face.

You didn’t realise it, but your body was inching towards him and Jungkook took notice straight away, doing you the favour of pulling his cock out from its confines to stand tall and hard before you.

You were meaning to reach out for him, but he beat you to it, wrapping a strong hand around the base of his cock as he pumped himself between his fist a couple times, squinting at the little bead of precum eventually dripping down the base of his cock and you could only stare on in awe.

“You want my cock down your throat, huh?” he taunts deeply, moving forwards so he could guide the tip of his leaking cock across your face, nudging your cheek and avoiding all contact with your mouth.

Right where you wanted him most.

“Say it,” he lightly slaps the tip of his dick against your cheek, dragging it down to your lips but not yet pushing in, “Say you’re a cock-hungry bitch who wants her face fucked by the man she hates so much…”

Submission was never your thing. You always showed yourself out to be a woman who always stood her ground, never taking shit from anyone. But now it was your worst enemy, proving you wrong on all of the above.

“I’m a cock-hungry bitch..” your words are there, but no confidence within them, “Who wants her face fucked by the man she hates so much,” you mumble against the tip of his dick, hoping he’d give in to you.

Jungkook shrugs, “Could be better, but what more do I expect from a whore?” He suddenly pushes the tip of his cock past your lips, taking you by surprise as he groaned deeply, basking in the warmth of your mouth as he slowly eased himself into you inch by inch until he completely bottomed out.

You couldn’t handle his immense size, already struggling to breathe and he hadn’t even moved yet and tears were brimming your eyes.

“Tight fucking fit…” he seethes, slowly pulling out only to slam back into your mouth with brute force, each thrust pushing against the back of your throat and though you started choking, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You didn’t want him to stop; allowing him to use your head as assistance.

“Fucking made for my cock, aren’t you? A perfect fit..”

The only sounds that could be heard were Jungkook’s groans and the illicit sounds of your gagging and spluttering, a mixture of spit and precum leaking out the sides of your mouth.

"Gonna make better use of your pretty mouth.. and dumb you up so you'll never be able to throw all that fucking attitude at me again.." With no prep whatsoever, he impales your throat again, this time keeping your head at the very base of his cock, your nose brushing against his abdomen as your throat clenched around him, squeezing tightly to the point you could feel him throb.

“If this is the only way to shut you up, I’ll have you on your knees more often,” he looks down at you, watching the woman who stood so high on her fucking imaginary pedestal, now kneeling between his legs with her mouth stuffed full of his cock like a needy bitch.

Jungkook was damn near certain he almost came from the sight of you alone so he suddenly pulled you away from him, a thick and heavy string of precum connecting your lips to him leaving you a gasping, teary eyed, heaving mess.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you grumble, slightly annoyed by the sudden withdrawal as you hastily stood onto your feet.

“Oh, Y/N.. What am I gonna do with you?” he questions, sarcasm lacing his voice as he took a couple steps towards you just to grab your arm and turn you around; pushing you down front first against the glass surface of his desk.

You could barely make out what he was about to do, the side of your face pressed up against the glass but God, he was so close behind you, you couldn’t help but push back against him a little, whimpering at the sliver of skin-on-skin contact with him and Jungkook was all for your eagerness.

He spits against the palm of his hand, using the heel of his palm to reach down between your legs and massage your weeping cunt, briefly letting his digits dip into you before replacing them with his cock.

At last.

“Oh— fuck.. Jeon—!” You’re more vocal now than you were ever before, his size deeming you absolutely vulnerable as he pushed into you slowly. The stretch was beyond humane, he was practically splitting you open and your tears were suddenly making another appearance.

Jungkook felt like he was going through the seven stages of grief; not expecting you to be so tight around him and already so addicting, it was like a revelation for him.

“Pussy made just for me..” he groans, a palm aiming to land a harsh smack against your ass cheek, making you jump and the ongoing stinging sensation turning the affected area a light shade of pink which was bound to darken overtime. “All fucking mine—” he grits harshly squeezing the flesh of your ass as he continued to thrust in and out of your sopping cunt, “Fuck, look at your tight pussy just sucking me in… bet you like me shoving into your cunt, huh?”

“Uhghhh yes, yes! I love it so much!”

You loved the pain.

Each powerful thrust caused your body to repeatedly shift against your desk, again and again his dick slamming so deep into your guts you wondered if it were even possible to experience such a thing.

You could tell he was giving you his all; his muscles were tense, every vein in his body was popping out just so he could take out his frustrations on you. He dealt with your ass for three years; constant bickering, competitions, insults, but fuck him, if he knew you what got you going, he’d have fucked you way sooner.

“Bet you wished I’d come in and fuck you at some point, huh?” A smirk was lingering over his features, knowing well what your answer was.

“God— yes!” Your back forcibly arches against your will as you nod desperately.

Truth be told, you did look forward to his visits in your office just to argue with you. Arguing with an attractive man who looked even hotter when he was mad?

Of course.

“And everytime I’d leave your office, you’d sit in your chair with a wet fucking pussy all day, hoping I’d come back in just to fuck you, right? But God, why didn’t I do that?” he mentally curses himself, digging his fingers into your hips as his pace faltered, indicating he was losing traction.

“Fuck you for not making a move,” you hiss through tears, gripping at the edge of your desk for stability as his thrusts became sloppy and messy.

He lands another harsh smack against your ass, making you help in surprise, “Shut the fuck up, I’m not done,” he seethes, picking up the pace and knocking all other backtalk out of your lungs, "Every damn day, I've had to deal with your shit; talking down on me—" his words laced with anger as he slams in to you, "—flaunting your stupid awards in my face and walking around like you own the fucking place."

He abruptly pulls out, turning you over to lay back on the desk whilst he spread your legs apart, his cock slipping into you once more as his free hand settled a harsh slap against your tits, “Now I have you under me, crying on my cock like a little bitch. Where'd that confidence go, huh?"

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, to busy doing exactly as he’d stated. Your mind was hazy and your body was going numb, all you were capable of was squeezing your walls tightly around his cock as a sign to say you were close.

“Oh you’re close, huh?” Jungkook brings his hand down to scoop up the stringy mess connecting both your bodies, “We can’t have security walk in, can we?” lifting his hand again to shove three slick coated digits into your mouth in a bid to silence your moans as you came. “Come all over my cock like you were born for it.”

And thank god he did what he did because your pleasure filled cries would have woken up the entire city.

Your tongue lapped at his fingers, sucking off whatever was there before he pulled them out of your mouth, admiring the way they glistened under the dim lights.

You stared up at him in a daze, chest heaving and tits bruised red as he thrusted back and forth a couple more times before finally reaching his orgasm with a low bellow.

“Fuck…” he groans to himself and you could feel his warmth completely fill you up, some of it too much to the point white was leaking out of your sensitive cunt as he drained himself empty into you.

Once Jungkook was certain he was done, he slowly pulled out, his cock falling limp and his mess now prominent between your legs, noticing it was all slipping out so he did you the duty of using his fingers to push as much as he could back into you, the sensitivity making you shudder, “Can’t let it go to waste,” he chuckles, bringing his fingers up to his lips to sneak a taste.

It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen and he was pulling you to sit up on the desk before grabbing your case with both hands and kissing you with all his might.

It was unexpected but you were too in the moment to stop him. You could just about make out the distinctive taste of yourself and him on your lips and all you were wondering was how the hell you’d both come back from this.

Jungkook bit down on your bottom lip, dragging it out towards him before letting go and watching the plumpness bounce back, red and swollen like he’d left his mark on you.

“What did we just do..?” you whisper, finally drinking in the state of yourself and the absolute state of your office, papers everywhere and the smell of sex surrounding you.

Jungkook didn’t know what came over him, but he needed to reassure you one thing; “This probably wasn’t ideal but I don’t regret it,” he says, eyes glued to yours and curious to know if you felt the same way.

You didn’t know if you felt the same way, but you certainly weren’t feeling bad about it.

“You don’t have to say anything now, or put a label on it or anything, you can take your time,” he tells you softly, pulling away from you to pull his pants back up and tuck himself away. He was unsure whether you wanted to be alone or wanted to stay in his presence, but he figured he’d do what was safest, “Want me to clean you up and walk you to your car?”

Your hands adjusted the skirt that had been rolled up your hips, pulling it down to shield your thighs and the mess as you shook your head, “Oh no, that’s okay, I can take it from here,” you reply, this time giving him a genuine smile for his chivalry, one he’d never actually seen on you before and he wished he could see it more often.

Jungkook nodded and went to collect his shirt by the sofa, throwing it over his shoulder and heading for the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then for some case work.”

“Yeah, you too…”

He curtly nodded and headed out of your office with a sigh. He didn’t wanna leave you alone after that, but he wanted to avoid any intrusive/pushy questioning and awkwardness.

How the hell would you both ever come back from this?

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[babyspacebatclone]

And the end result of this monster is…

…..

Marshmallows.

😂

I was considering making this as a joke of we had more decisive ingredients, instead with have marshmallows with some strawberry gelatin powder, mandarin oranges, pecans, whipped topping, and half a dozen maraschino cherries.

Which actually doesn’t sound terrifying at all, to be honest….

Just got reminded of this old post of mine.

Hey! Meme time!

(A sampling of the type of desserts I’m referencing, in case you think I’m making any of this up.)

[fucking-leave-me-alone-pornbots]

Miles have no idea how to flirt and he is too ashamed to ask so he takes inspirations from cliche romance shows and steel samurai fanfictions. It goes as well as you expect.

He runs on Nick on purpose while he is turning the corner so Phoenix can drop his files, Miles can apologise and maybe invite him out for drinks right?? right???

Oh shit he was holding a coffee. Coffee landed on Phoenix's legs. Phoenix is screaming. He burned his legs. Oh no.

He invites him for lunch anyway. They chat nicely, right when he is about to make his move someone gets killed and Phoenix swears they find the killer within an hour thanks to Miles' murder glare.

Miles sends roses alongside updated autopsy repord for his case. He even writes something poetic on card. Except he writes it in a way that it's so vague Phoenix has no idea that poem might be about him. Not only that Phoenix is so used to one sided love and pinning he forgot the possibility of that beautiful man might be into him too. Instead he thinks Miles send him evidence (??) as an apology for coffee accident. They are not evidence. They have nothing to do with the case. Everyone laughs at him.

He invites Phoenix to somehwere fancy and oh no, it turns out they have to share a bed which is absolutelly not acording to plan. Miles tells him again and again he is fine with sharing bed but Phoenix believes he is just trying to be kind. So he drags whatever he could find on ground and spends the night on DIY bed which destroys his back.

Next time he tries to act all tsundere and stuff. "it's not like i care about you, stupid" he says (or some variation) he wasn't expecting Nick to burst into tears. Maya gives him stink eye. He is an asshole.

Miles is nuts. He is unstoppable. He cuts Gumshoe's salary dolar by dolar everytime he fails. Gumshoe is crying too.

bonus:

During 7 years gap, Miles invites Phoenix and Trucy to somehwere in Europe for holiday. Turns out the room (2 rooms, one with 2 bingle beds and one with king size) was double booked and they have to share single bed. Phoenix offers to sleep on couch so Trucy and Miles can share the bed but Miles declines, saying three of them can fit easly.

He is not wrong. They put Trucy inbetween them and they whisper-talk until midnight because Trucy is asleep.

Phoenix wakes up to see his daughter and Miles asleep and instead of goung back to sleep, he just watches them because he knows even if he tries to sleep with all his might there is no way he can close his eyes to them.

[starguardianniom]

Billy background

Ok so thanks to chapter 4 we got some background on Billy now and like I promised here are some of the many pictures I took about it, (it took me an hour just to get through it all because I legit took a picture of almost pratically all dialogue but I'll spare you all the details and just jump straight into it) and some more.

The Sons of Calydon just straight up trust Billy with their truck and their freaking bangboo for starters because he used to work for them, surprise surprise, we all thought so from the beginning and we were right. Still the fact that they are on good terms enough for that kind of job already warms my heart a lot you have no idea.

What fate are we talking about exactly? Why did you leave? You seemed pretty well liked, I don't get it. I need more information, you are being so vague about the details it drives me nuts, still love you though, but dang you will make me work to get your secrets won't you? Fine, that just makes you even more interesting in my eyes. ^^

Just like that Billy you just saved us a lot of trouble I feel. I bet Nicole was so relieved.

So you talked to Lucy then, must have been interesting.

Well, since you are the messenger it would be rude to decline their offer.

Wow, you really just follow orders to the tee and Nicole cares enough to actually be willing to let go of the case if we refuse, dang the honor code is strong with The Cunning Hares. ^^ Don't worry my dear I want Perlman in jail as much as you guys do so we'll go meet them~.

So you are doing a side job for a few days for them and Nicole is letting you, good for you my man. Wait does that means that Red Moccus actually is staying with you and the Cunning Hares for the next few days? Wild. I bet Amillion was thrilled.

Dang, I guess Nicole is mad that you let Perlman get away right under your nose, don't worry I'll make sure that we get him back so that you get paid. I do hope that Nicole would still actually pay you even if you did let him go considering the sole reason why she, Anby and Nekomata are still alive was because you were there to help Lycaon climb aboard to save everyone so I do hope she will go easy on you.

Sibling concern as usual, fortunatly~

No dice on what was my answer, right? ^^

My thoughts exactly, pretty nice to see that out of the Cunning Hares Billy seems to be the only one who could still go back to people and friends he knew if it came to that, even if he doesn't seem interested in going back for some reason.

Yeah, if you're friends with Billy that automatically makes you friends with the Sons of Calydon, hell yeah! They aren't even mad that they had to rescue us and that Billy left them all that time ago, this is how you leave groups people, on good terms, take notes y'all. Caesar is so wholesome.

On the other hand, why are these the only options available after this wholesome dialogue, hoyo do you want us to have a problem being friends with Billy despite me already having maxed his trust, or make us tsunderes? Stop making me insult my boy please!

That ain't convincing very much Belle but I feared the other possible answer too much so sorry about that Billy you are still my favorite character in the game and Hoyo will never make me dislike you, try all you want he's still gonna be in my heart forever.

That one question I've been waiting for is finally here!!!

This. I straight up swear, while the Cunning Hares are a found family, you don't see Nicole and Anby calling Billy "bro", the Sons on another hand do. I keep hearing Anby saying "I got you sis" refering to Nicole in battle, and telling Billy to get some repairs while she's switching with him.

I would like to highlight that Caesar is saying that even if Billy has left the gang for a while so I guess he still has the title even if he isn't with them anymore, guess that means that if he ever leaves the Cunning Hares he can just go back to the Sons and get back his title and nobody will protest.

So Billy had a pretty big job in the Sons, neat. With all the responsabilities and stress that comes with it. Interesting~

Lighter having Billy has a rival, he also calls Billy his predecessor, meaning Billy had the position first and then it went to Lighter I guess. Lighter saw Billy in action and found him worthy of being his rival. Also that last sentence makes me thinks that Lighter forgot that Billy was literally made for battle, he's an Intelligent Tactical Unit, a battle android, he was made to fight so of course his combat skills are something else. But I really am tempted to pull Lighter just to have a few more info on Billy, given he seems interested in a duel with him and admires him, it seems legit that he might talk about him in some of his trust events, I sure hope so at least, because I will be very disappointed with Hoyo otherwise.

Again Hoyo, stop dissing my boy when others are praising him, like I know we might be used to the goofy side of Billy but like we also go on commission with him and the Cunning Hares a lot so surely we would be used to seeing him in action by now shouldn't we and like we are proxies not fighters we legit have no room to talk Billy is the one going in the Hollows risking his life we just give him the directions and the exit but if Eous is damaged we'll be safe at home, while Billy won't, so can we just stop with dissing him already? Please and thank you.

Going by that comment I assume Billy used to behave a lot more differently in the Sons than how he is now, but it does beg the question of how much drastic the change was, I mean an entire freaking gang of thugs ran away from him when they recognized him, so he must have been pretty scary and intimidating back then, but now he seems to look back on that side of him with a bit of shame? Anyway seems like he's pretty happy with his life with the Cunning Hares according to Lighter, being his dream life, which again, good for him this is wholesome on so many levels. ^^

Finally done, this took a while. I got fed with Caesar and Lighter happily providing info on Billy, but I still need more!

Still it was all very interesting, I will stay on the lookout for more info on Billy, feel free to also come at me with what you find about him too, or just talk about him, or gush about him, or shoot me your headcanons too, I will talk about him forever. ^^

[beelmons]

cw: smut (minors dni), perv!spencer (a little only), accidental auditory voyeurism, spencer is a cuckold yet again, preestablished relationship with hotch

This is a work in collab with the loml @ihavemanyhusbands

A/N: i'm losing my mind to f*cking tumblr doing insane shit so i'm not formatting this one post .

It was an impulse, the product of lack of thought; he was not a pervert, this wasn't wrong, it wasn't like that. It wasn't like he had dreamed of your curves a million times, or that he had cursed your name under his breath whenever he came on his phone screen, beautifully adorned by a picture of you.

Right, he didn't steal your neglected panties straight from your go-back after returning from a case, and he definitely wasn't pressing them against his nose, every breath covered with scent of the one thing he craved the most.

His cock, however, could not be gaslit into rejecting such thoughts, painfully strained against the folds of his pants. The fact that he was laying face down on his bed, face buried in your crumpled up underwear, was not helping.

It didn't feel fair to simply 'bust a nut' to the thought of you, regardless of how many times he had done that, when he had committed such a heinous deed to his standards. It was his punishment to not be touched, to feel the pulsating ache of desire between his legs.

He wanted so bad for his face to be buried between your legs instead, taking his time to savor you. Probably like a desperate, starved man that had long been denied a meal… which was exactly what he was.

All too often, he tried to imagine what sounds you’d make, or how your breath might tickle his ear when you sighed his name into it.

Fuck.

He couldn’t help himself. He needed some sort of relief, anything he could get. He grabbed his pillow and tucked it beneath him, between his thighs.

Needy whimpers escaped his throat as his hips bucked against the pillow. He tried to envision the firm press of your body against yours, heat radiating from you. Oh, what he’d do to get lost in that heat.

But, regardless of the potent imagination life had gifted him, it alas wasn't enough. Perhaps he was going too hard on himself, who could blame him for getting worked up due to you? Everyone knew you had driven him to madness, everyone but you. If you could just spare him a glance he would put heaven at your feet if that was what you wanted.

His hands moved on their own to set his member free, the fabric of your underwear still tangled in between his fingers, and sweat running down his back in anticipation. If he didn’t touch himself, he wasn’t cheating, right? He folded the pillow in such a way that allowed a tunnel to be formed, tightly gripping onto it so it wouldn’t unfold, and without wasting any time he slowly began to penetrate it. 

His other hand helped him keep steady as his knees stuck to the mattress, giving him enough angle to let his hips swing back and forth. Your panties were sticking to his skin, slightly painful, and so he decided he needed a new place to keep them safe. The garment was moved into his mouth, safely guarded between his teeth. His tongue grazed over the specific area where your arousal once was, the faint scent of you deliciously rubbing at his nostrils. 

He could picture you beneath him, his eyes falling shut to begin forming his own reality; your body would lay face down against his bed, your ass perked up the slightest to allow him the access you both craved. He imagined trailing the side of your body with his hands, and how he would grip at your buttocks enough to leave you wincing in vague pain, the ultimate proof of being his.  

He was just starting to get lost in his fantasies — hips picking up speed, drool forming at the corners of his lips and head slightly tipped back in bliss — when he was interrupted by his cell phone buzzing.

Worried it might be an emergency, he begrudgingly stopped his motions and stretched towards his nightstand to grab it. He saw your name on the caller ID, and his heart began pounding in his chest for an entirely different reason.

He immediately dropped your panties from his mouth and swiped to accept the call.

“Hello?” He said, trying to keep his voice even.

On the other side of the line, there was no response. Well, at least not the kind he expected.

He could hear panting breaths and a rhythmic sort of creaking. At first, he frowned in confusion, but then his eyes widened in realization. His stomach practically dropped as his ears were suddenly blessed with your pleasured mewls.

And suddenly, another voice, one that sounded all too familiar.

"Look at you clenching around nothing. Do you want my cock that bad?"

“F-fuck, yes please…” you whimpered.

Oh.

Something like a light slap could be heard. “Such a needy pussy.”

He was in too much shock to properly process what was going on, let alone think about the ethical consequences of what he was doing, was it okay to listen to you getting fucked by, whom he presumed was, the unit chief? Was he jealous? Angry that another man was reveling in the delight that he knew your pussy was?

He would have dwelled in all those thoughts if it weren't for the way he could feel his dick twitching with excitement underneath the fabric of the pillow. The phone was dropped to his side, speaker mode on, to play the role of background melodies to his sinful activities.

The lewd noises, proof of how well Aaron could treat you, were echoing through his otherwise silent room; he closed his eyes, the final step to spiral down into the delusion he had started. His palm pressed harder down on the cushion, you certainly were tighter than that, but that would suffice, it had to.

He pictured you, once again, beneath him, begging for more into his ear just like you were doing with that other man. You asked for deeper, and deeper he went, the outline of the pillow brushing against his lower abdomen whenever he thrusted.

His free hand was pressed against his mouth to keep himself quiet, aided by the panties that he voluntarily smeared back onto his face; he had completely forgotten to press mute, too lost in the illusion of being able to wash you with pleasure.

“I’m so close, fuck,” you panted, voice strained. “Just like that, oh please don’t stop…”

Spencer could feel himself nearing the edge as well. He rutted his hips with wild abandon, wanting to reach his peak at the same time as you.

He pressed his hand tighter against his mouth, trying to stifle the little grunts low in his throat. What he would give to feel you squeezing around him, too lost in all the pleasure he could give you.

He would worship every inch of your body, memorizing every single reaction to see what you liked best. Could he ever be so lucky?

“W-where do you want it, baby?” Aaron rasped.

“Inside me, please,” you pleaded. “Don’t pull out.”

He heard the exact moment that you unraveled, your moans were a melody he never wanted to stop hearing. He was so close, so fucking close…

But then suddenly, he heard a rustle, followed by a gasp.

“Oh, shit…” you hissed, and there were more rustling sounds on the other end of the line. “Spencer?”

And just the sound of you saying his name finally undid him. As he was seized in ecstasy, he spilled all over the pillow, biting hard on the lace fabric of your panties. His movements became jerky as he rode out his high, but soon his movements stopped altogether.

His head swam from the intensity of his orgasm, and it took a moment for the reality of the situation to sink in once more. His entire face flushed with shame at his auditory voyeurism.

But on the other hand, a part of him was still thrilled at the whole thing.

“Spencer, are you there?” He heard you ask as he stifled his panting breaths.

“I don’t think he heard anything. You can probably just hang up,” Aaron said.

"Right." you answered your partner before a closing door could be heard, it was very possible Hotch had gone to take a quick shower, leaving you alone in the room. You didn't hang up right away, instead your voice lowered to a mere whisper "Spencer, if you're there, could keep this a secret? I'm very sorry you had to find out like this. I will explain everything tomorrow, but please, please, don't tell anyone. Love you, good night."

'Love you' was the best thing that could have come out of your mouth that night, second only to the spill of his name as you came, of course, but he wasn't that lucky.

He looked down at the mess he had made, evidence of the embarrassing situation he had gotten himself involved into, and yet, not a trace of regret could be found within Spencer Reid.

Why would it? The tune of your delight was engraved in his mind, the faint taste of your arousal tingling on his tongue, and the picture of your bare body seemed to be the only thing amiss. But, overall, how could this be anything but a strike of luck?

That's what he told himself, that was how he lied to himself. But this was a very dangerous game Spencer was playing, and for one simple reason: he wasn't playing in the flesh.

Therefore, it would never be enough. Not unless he had you to himself, unless he was able to be better than Hotch.

[gillyweedgrl]

You should be watching Pit Babe! - A Brief Review

Saddens me to think how many people are missing out on a great show because they think it’s not worth more than a trash watch, if that.

I mean, realistically, is it the most amazing cinematic work of all time? No, not unless pretty-boy power bottoms with daddy issues are your thing, which in my case they are, so let's talk about Pit Babe!

Note: I've tried to keep the spoilers to a minimum, they're mainly in the tags and links so follow them at your own risk, you've been warned.

Honestly, Pit Babe is a pretty damn good show, especially if you A) pretend the Omegaverse factor doesn’t exist and take the show for what it is and B) you don't mind not knowing what's going on half the time, just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.

Overall, Pit Babe has got a good production value, a slightly absurd yet entertaining plot, a great choice of cast with amazing chemistry and pretty decent acting skills amongst the mix of seasoned actors and newbies.

For a totally biased fair and balanced review: There are some details that are left vague instead of being explained in depth or at all (yet), but that’s to be expected when you adapt a novel into a movie or series. It would get boring for the audience if the pace was interrupted to explain all those little details that we’re likely to find out along the way anyways (shout out to those who've watched the latest episode; finally!).

There are also some scenes that feel like they’re not as necessary and some background/plot devices that made a little more sense in the novel but I personally don’t feel like they detract too much from my viewing experience.

Babe (played by Pavel) and Charlie (played by Pooh) as the main leads do a really good job at shouldering a large percentage of screen time. Charlie comes across as happy-go-lucky, a bit clumsy/goofy, entirely fearless and a little naive, which is mostly true, but there's clearly more to him than that. Right from the start Babe is clearly someone guarded, detirmined and skilled at what he does (racing cars and having sex) and he has a very tight cirlce of people he trusts. There's a winning combo right there, quite tsundere/sunshine from the outside but definitely more breath the surface that gets exploded as they go.

Way (played by Nut) is Babe's best friend and racing companion, they've been racing together at Team X-Hunter for years but there's clearly more than friendship on the mind for Way, though the feelings appear to be one sided.

Alan (played by Sailub) is the owner of Team X-Hunter and an all-round cool Uncle (which the whole team call's him (despite barely being in his mid 30's). He's kind but firm, he cares for his team like they’re his family and it does seem as though they’re his only family.

And the rest of the cast consists primarily of:

Team X-Hunter:

Dean (played by Lee); a junior racer with slight douche vibes

North and Sonic (played by Michael and TopTen); everyone’s babies, they’re junior racers and content creators

Jeff (played by Pon); the newest member of the team, he’s a part time mechanic and full time conspicuous

Pete (played by Ping); the money guy Alan brings on board to sponsor the team

Team Red Racing (the rival team):

Winner (played by Pop); the guy who never seems to win against Babe

Kim (played by Benz); the new racer they hired to beat Babe

Tony (played by S Vorarit); Red Racing's newest benefactor and *shock horror* Babe's former foster father (try saying that ten times fast)

Kenta (played by Garfield); Tony's right hand man

Then, there’s the 🌶🔥🤯

I, personally, enjoy a little spice/heat in my shows. It’s not necessary for every show, of course, but I do think that when it serves a purpose to the story and it’s done well then it can be quite enjoyable and this cast/production team is doing it really well.

As I said, the chemistry between the cast really is amazing (both on and off the screen, if you're interested in that kind of thing) and although the spicy scenes aren’t nearly as abundant as they are in the novel, there are some really good ones. I decided to bite the bullet and binge read the novel over the past couple of weeks, I blame @pharawee’s breakdown posts for those sleepless nights, and it was worth it for me but not necessary for watching the series.

Lastly (as if this post isn't long winded enough as it is) there are a handful of things in this series that we don't see too often in BL's and make it worth watching even more:

It's got race cars, murder attempts, mafia influence and supernatural powers (at least half the characters have one).

There's no evil ex-lover out to get revenge or get back together with one of the mains (thank the BL gods).

It's got a Soft Top/Dominant Bottom dynamic where the title character is both super masc and a pretty princess.

And we can't forget, it is technically an Omegaverse series (or rather, it's Omegaverse-lite) which none of us saw coming!

Anywho, to conclude; yes, you should be watching Pit Babe. No, you don't have to read the novel to understand what's going on because none of us understand what the hell is going on at any given time. Charlie and Babe are fucking around and finding out, the rest of us are just long for the ride, Alan and Jeff are having a whole ass rom-com-drama in the corner, the babies are making their content and having a blast and the others aren't quite on the map yet (or are they? *wink, wink*), but I sure hope they will be soon!

If you made it this far, thank you and are you okay? Do you need to have your brain checked?

[kagejima]

pairing: msby jackals + gn!newbie manager

mood music: the call - backstreet boys

author's notes: look, i don't know what to tell you. one day "the call" by backstreet boys came on shuffle in my library and i have not been able to listen to it since without picturing msby doing chaotic karaoke to it. i had to do 160 edits to this, if I missed something, I will come back to it later fhdjfas

author's notes part deux: i will bite your ankles if you trash talk the other older members of MSBY, chomp chomp. y'all forget writers can see every tag.

content warnings: alcohol consumption; the song is about cheating on your girlfriend (just in case); mild daddy kink; mild size kink; mild sex mentions

It’s just a job. 

They are just your co-workers. 

That’s what you keep telling yourself. 

But it’s difficult to remember that when the members of the MSBY Black Jackals have invited you out to a night of karaoke… And every single one of them is so attractive that your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest anytime they talk to you. 

How many other little managers in the past have been tortured by their good looks? With their smiles? With their flirting?

It’s a tradition!

That’s what Kotarou tells you, and you wonder if he means it’s a tradition for them specifically or a tradition for every team. 

It’ll be fun! 

That’s what Shugo tells you, but it’s hard to believe him. It’s only been two weeks since you started as their manager, so you think they’re just trying to have you included in things — a bonding thing with them as a team. 

But you wonder how it could possibly be fun for you when you’re the only non-player on this outing right now. 

Or maybe… 

Maybe that’s exactly how they wanted it to be.

After a couple of drinks and some chit-chat, they try to get you to go on stage in the crowded bar, but you refuse to. You don’t know what song you’d even sing, for one, and you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of all of them, for two. 

With all of their encouragement, you still won’t budge, so they all start their own separate conversations with each other. 

However, you still can’t get them to tell you something you desperately want to know. 

“So what’s this song that you all are keeping a big secret?” You ask Shugo, who’s sitting next to you, and he only grins at you before taking a sip of his whiskey.

“I can’t tell you that, baby. Then it wouldn’t be a surprise. But I have to say, it’s fun to see the looks on everyone’s faces every year when we do it.”

“How come that makes me more nervous?” You squint at him.

Shugo only shrugs, still smirking, and it’s driving you nuts. 

Luckily Kiyoomi comes to your rescue. 

"They did it two days before an important match one time, and we ended up winning. So now they do it before the start of every season." Kiyoomi explains, albeit vaguely, and takes another swig of his vodka tonic.

“Can I at least know who sings it?” You ask, trying to think of every popular karaoke song off the top of your head.

Kiyoomi is about to give it away, but Atsumu clamps a hand over his mouth. The glasses rattle around on the table because Atsumu has shot up from his spot and lunged over the table to do so.

“Ya can’t ruin the surprise!” Atsumu whines, his hand pressing harder against Kiyoomi's mouth, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!!”

Kiyoomi glares at Atsumu, but he obeys him. 

You’re about to try and trick Kotarou or Shoyo, thinking surely you can get the information out of them the easiest, but “Shugo plus party of 8??” comes through loud and clear on the speakers and they’re all downing their drinks before they make their way up to the stage.

Kiyoomi is the only one who stays seated with you.

“You’re not going up too?” You ask him, because it’s definitely not you included in the party of eight.

“I’m not needed until later.” is all he says.

…

Whatever the fuck that means.

When everyone sans Kiyoomi is situated on stage, a phone rings, and an incredibly familiar voicemail message starts playing. You look up at the stage and they all are vibrating with excitement like the voicemail is taking forever and a half.  

It’s a song you remember that your cousin was obsessed with back in the day, and it’s confusing to you that they’re getting excited over a song about cheating on your girlfriend.

But you digress. They all look like they’re having a fun time. 

You honestly don’t know whether to be happy or embarrassed since they’re all well past tipsy. Even with the alcohol coursing through their system, they’re all miraculously remembering who’s in charge of what lines. 

It’s quite a sight to see Alexander in the middle holding his microphone at stomach level with Shoyo and Shion on either side of him so they can actually use it. Alexander is new to the team, just like you, but he looks like he’s having the time of his life up there even though he doesn’t know the words like the others do. 

Atsumu and Kotarou are fighting over who gets to hold the microphone they have, tugging it back and forth because they’d rather have Ushijima beat them in an arm wrestling contest than not have all eyes on only them right now. 

Shugo, Adriah, and Oliver are as pally-wally as they can possibly get. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought they were actually brothers. Blissfully unaware of the chaos of Atsumu and Kotarou on the other end of the stage, Oliver is holding the microphone while Adriah and Shugo are on each side of him, their hands on Oliver’s shoulders and body as they throw their heads back and shout along to the chorus. 

You think that it can’t get any funnier, cheering along with the crowd as they are getting towards the end. 

But then the chair next to you scoots back in your peripheral vision. You watch Kiyoomi as he gets up and makes his way towards the stage, and everyone on the team is hyping him up, like they did this just to see Kiyoomi do… whatever the fuck he’s about to do. 

It’s almost like you’re experiencing a fever dream when you see Kiyoomi take the microphone from Atsumu’s hands and he belts out “GOTTA GOOOO-OOOO-OOOO” before the second to last chorus starts up. 

And then acts as if absolutely nothing happened before coming back to your table and sitting back down. 

When they finish, it’s met with wild applause, and you can’t help but join in on it yourself. You’re thankful their professional job is volleyball and not singing because they’re by no means stellar at singing - but that isn’t the point of karaoke. The point of it is to have fun.

When they all come back to the table, they all try again to get you to go sign up for a turn, and you reluctantly agree. Why not? They’ll probably be too drunk to remember you making an ass out of yourself.  

But you want to talk to someone first before you do. 

KOTAROU has golden retriever energy, through and through. He was the first one you met on your first day. You thought you would be meeting the captain first, but Shugo was running late. Kotarou made you feel more comfortable since you were slightly intimidated by it being your first real job. 

He was the first to ask you if he could have your phone number ("For… for work… purposes?" His lie was obvious with the way he was wincing and rubbing the back of his head, but you thought it was sweet). 

He was also the first to have to hide a boner from you. 

SHOYO reminds you of your younger brother. If your younger brother was jacked… and could jump scary high… and never stopped talking. You think he's adorable, and you think it's cute how strong of a bond he has with Kotarou, almost like he's Kotarou's little brother. 

You also think it's cute how he looks in your direction whenever he pulls off a fancy new move in practice. "Didja see!! Didja see me??" 

You have to reassure him that, yes, you definitely did watch him pull it off. You didn't though. You were too busy staring at him and wondering what his stamina would be like in bed if he were this way on the court. 

ATSUMU is the type of guy you had a crush on in high school. Even though he isn’t in school anymore, something about him still screams jock. Maybe it’s the hair or the way he carries himself. Maybe it’s the way everyone and their mother fawns over him, but he just gives you jock vibes still. 

Or maybe it’s how he kissed your hand and introduced himself to you at that first practice (half of the team groaned at this). Perhaps it’s the way he made a cute nickname for you the following week, or maybe it’s the way he only has eyes for you. 

It’s almost like you put a spell on him, and he's hopelessly in love with you. So much so to the point that when Osamu came to drop off food at a practice, he literally shoved him out the door so you wouldn't fall for him instead. 

KIYOOMI makes you giggle with his comments when the others are getting out of hand. He thinks he isn’t heard, but he fell for you because you paid attention to him. Every sly remark that passed his lips, all the sarcastic commentary he thought he was getting away with about the other teammates, never got past you. It was like a little secret between the two of you. Little inside jokes.

He’s also the one who wants to get to know every little thing about you that he can. You keep hearing from the others that he can be blunt with how he speaks, but he’s never spoken that way to you. Instead, he’s always been very kind and thoughtful, never rude at all. There’s something sweet to you about him and how he awkwardly asks you questions about yourself to get to know you better. 

SHION is your little partner in crime. Sort of. Kotarou made you feel more at ease, but you feel like Shion just got you when it came to pranks and silliness. It’s usually Shion that’s brainstorming the tricks, and you wonder how long he’s been thinking about doing things like this to his teammates. It’s almost like he’s doing it just to keep himself sane from the chaos he has to put up with on a daily basis. 

So you’re a little surprised when “We should get together for a date!” comes tumbling out of his mouth, and he quickly backtracks. “I mean… I thought of something hilarious we could do to Atsumu next practice. But we should get together to… umm… discuss it. Is that a date? Is that weird? It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be.”

SHUGO knows. He knows all the things that only someone with experience knows. You want to look inside his head because there is no possible way he knows all the right things to say in every scenario. He’s too good to be true. 

And you still hate that after one practice, you were delivering the freshly laundered uniforms and saw him slip his shirt off, and you just stood there. And instead of saying his actual name, you called him Daddy. 

He still hasn’t let you live it down. 

You have to regularly converse with him since he's the captain, but he takes every opportunity he can to watch you squirm. Like how he'll bring you something you asked for - a notebook, a pencil, your phone - and he gives you the biggest shit-eating grin as he stands there and says, "Aren't you forgetting something?" 

He lives for your reactions when he leans closer to your ear and says, "Aren't you going to say 'Thank you, Daddy'?" 

ADRIAH has older brother energy. He’s the one who is always helping Shugo reign in the others (especially Kotarou and Atsumu when they get pouty). He’s asking how you’re adjusting to managing the team when there’s a break. 

He’s nice. Almost too nice. It’s to the point where you’re wildly suspicious of his motives when he talks to you. “Just tell me if you need anything!” is what he’s always telling you, a cheerful smile on his face. You do write it off as he’s just nice though a couple of days later when you can’t find evidence not to trust him. 

But you don’t know. 

You don’t know he goes home and hopes someday you’ll tell him, “You. I need you.” You don’t know he goes home and touches himself to thoughts of you. You don’t know that he’s plagued with dreams of you whimpering his name and begging him to fill you up, seeing pretty little tears spill from your eyes as your legs shake around him.  

OLIVER is big. At 6’10”, everything about him is enormous. His laugh and his smile are what caught your eye the most though. If Adriah has older brother energy, Oliver has your best friend’s goofy dad energy. And a man of that height? Others would find him intimidating, but he’s not. The very opposite. He's the most good-hearted person you've ever met.

Like when he asked you how your friend was doing after her surgery and he sent flowers to the hospital. Or the time he walked you home from practice because it was too dark out. 

"Do you want me to carry you?" He had offered because practice was grueling that day, and you had been running on very little sleep.

You don't want to talk about how you realized you maybe had a size kink that night, with how his big strong arms carried you all the way back to your house like you were nothing to him (You weren't). 

ALEXANDER is the kind of dreamy and rich lead you read about in your books. His taste in clothing, accessories, and fine dining is absolutely divine. You’ve made plans with him a week from now to go shopping and to a new restaurant you both are dying to try. 

He’s traveled much more than the others, which is saying something. He always has fun little anecdotes to tell. And you love listening to him speak. You could listen to him for hours with his voice - deep and smooth. You keep telling him he would be good at ASMR content, but he almost replies… shyly… almost submissively, when you tell him this. 

Sometimes you wonder if his voice would have the same quality if you were to be on top of him. 

You look at the men all around the table, most of them having their own conversations, but a few of them have been watching you, dying for you to look at them so they can talk to you. 

And really, they all are more than willing to give you their undivided attention. 

The only question is… 

Who has your attention for the rest of the night?

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter Two

Masterlist

"See you tomorrow Buckets," you say as you leave the cabin.

You vaguely heard the Buckets wishing you a good day. You crossed the busy streets despite the biting cold of January. You were enjoying this time away from the Bucket family. You vaguely heard police car sirens speeding by as you entered Bill's shop. The place was still crowded with people hoping to find one of the five golden tickets. You got to work quickly, selling all the tablets in record time. Bill took advantage of a moment of calm to turn on the TV and switch to the talking news.

"The first golden ticket was found in Düsseldorf, Germany by a young boy named Augustus Gloop," the reporter announced.

The shop fell silent at this announcement. You stared intently at the screen where an image of a chubby boy appeared with dried chocolate on his face. You winced in disgust when you saw that. Why didn't his parents take the time to clean him up? You leaned on the counter listening to the waiter explain how he had found the ticket. He had bitten into the chocolate bar without looking, he was perplexed when he smelled the unusual taste of chocolate. He had found the golden ticket by biting into it. A reporter asked Augustus how he celebrated. The boy replied that he ate more chocolate bars. No sooner had he finished his sentence than he took out a new bar which he quickly unwrapped to bite into a piece that was too big for him to eat with his mouth closed. The boy's mother commented that she knew her son was going to find a ticket with all the tablets she bought for him. The chubby woman grabbed her son's wrist to show the cameras the ticket, all while posing with him.

"He's disgusting," you say, glaring at Bill.

"I'm not telling you, kiddo," the man replied, turning off the TV.

People had become even more determined to find a golden ticket. Some had tried to get into the back room. Luckily for you, Bill had a gun license and the customers quickly calmed down when they saw him pull out a shotgun. The day passed quickly and it was almost time for you to close the shop. With the golden ticket frenzy, Bill had decided to keep the shop open overnight, to avoid being robbed. You sat in the back room, turning on the little TV to watch the paper. In case anyone found another golden ticket. Now that the first ticket was found, it was going to be madness.

(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)

A sigh escaped your lips, you were exhausted by his long days of endless work. You barely extended a greeting to your family. You preferred to fall on your aunt and uncle's bed instead. The Bucket family members looked at you with concern and pity, which you preferred not to see. Charlie was the first to come over to help you take off your shoes and coat.

"Was it overnight?" Charlie asked as he went to hang your jacket with the others.

"Yeah...long and boring...," you said with a sigh. "His assholes are going absolutely nuts."

"A filthy young boy found a ticket," said Grandma Josephine.

"I know," you say, straightening up to sit on the edge of the bed. "Bill put the newspaper in then and it was a frenzy afterwards. Some were asking for a refund after seeing that their tablet had no tickets in it."

Another sigh escaped your lips as you ruffled your tangled hair. Charlie turned on the small TV to watch the paper. No sooner had he put on the chain than the reporter announced that the second golden ticket had just been found in Buckinghamshire. The sizzling image showed a middle-class family trying to look perfect. The little girl holding the golden ticket had an angelic smile proudly showing her ticket, her mother had her hand resting on her shoulder, showing her ring which must have cost a fortune and the father began to explain how he had found the object to be coveted by his darling granddaughter: Veruca Salt. Clearly, this man had exploited his poor workers to fulfill the desires of his darling little Veruca.

"This guy is worse than the fat guy," you say, laying back.

"I don't think that was really fair" commented Charlie sitting on his grandparents' bed. "She didn't find the ticket herself."

"That's why I hate the rich. They think everything is theirs. This kid is so spoiled that she won't do anything later," you say, glaring at your cousin. "Remember that, Charlie. No good ever comes from spoiling a child like that."

No sooner had you finished your sentence than the door opened on the Bucket parents. Charlie hurriedly turned off the television as your aunt and uncle stood in front of the grandparents' bed with huge smiles on their lips. You saw your cousin's gift roughly wrapped in newspaper. Like every year, the poor boy was only entitled to one Wonka bar.

"Charlie. Mum and I thought...maybe you wanna open your birthday present tonight," Mr. Bucket said.

"Here you are," said Mrs. Bucket, handing the famous gift to her son.

You couldn't help but envy your cousin. Even if you loved him, you hadn't had the chance to know about the birthday presents. Before he was born, you understood that your uncle and aunt kept every penny for food and other useful things. But when Charlie was old enough to receive gifts, you couldn't help but wonder why he was entitled to them and you weren't. After that hit you, you couldn't compete with Charlie. After all, he was the real child of this family. You were a parasite who paid to stay a parasite. From afar, you watched the family gather near the hero of the day who opened his gift: a Wonka Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight chocolate bar. Everyone waited impatiently for the boy to open his tablet.

"Maybe I should wait till morning," Charlie said nervously.

"Like hell," replied Grandpa George.

"Pop," growled Mr. Bucket.

"All together, we're 381 years old. We don't wait," said Grandpa Joe kindly.

Charlie plucked up his courage and started unwrapping the chocolate. All eyes were on the chocolate. Everyone was hoping, not you. What were the odds Charlie got a ticket? One in a million? Maybe more. Grandpa Joe seemed to be the most impatient of them all. Charlie removed the wrapping and unsurprisingly there was no golden ticket inside.

"Well," you say moving closer to the grandparents bed "That's that."

"We'll share it."

"Oh no, Charlie," Grandpa Joe said. "Not your birthday present."

"It's my candy bar, and I'll do what I want with it."

Charlie began cutting up chocolate chunks, handing them out to his grandparents and parents. Noticing that there was only one carrer left, you tell Charlie to eat it and that you were too tired to eat chocolate. You said good night to the Bucket family before going up to your room and Charlie's to get some sleep. Bill had given you a well-deserved weekend after this days of more than exhausting work.

(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)

"The third ticket was found by Miss Violet Beauregarde."

It's making the headlines. You threw the newspaper on the table to finish drying your soaked hair, listening with one ear to Violet's interview. Hearing the tone of that voice, that kid must have been obnoxious. You sat between Grandpa George and Grandma Josephine, facing the fireplace so your hair would dry faster when you heard the reporter announce that the fourth golden ticket had just been found by a boy named Mike Teavee. Violet's interview was cut to show the Teavee family. The boy's parents stood awkwardly in front of the reporters as Mike royally ignored them, continuing to play his loud video game. The boy explained how he found the ticket easily by following directions that you couldn't understand and that at the end of that, he only had to buy one tablet. When a journalist asked him what it tasted like, Mike replied that he hated chocolate. This simple sentence enraged Grandpa George who began to insult the boy of all names. Luckily, Mr. Bucket had quickly placed his hands over his son's ears, letting his father spit out his venom. Grandpa George was absolutely right. It was a waste to let such a kid visit a chocolate factory if he hated chocolate. It didn't make any sense. You threw your towel over your shoulder, leaving your seat to turn off the small TV. Mr. Bucket took his hands away from his son's ears to go back to sit and continue his book and Mrs. Bucket returned to the kitchen to continue the soup.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Charlie?"

"Why aren't you at work?"

The whole house froze at Charlie's question. You watched your uncle out of the corner of your eye as you tightened your grip on the television.

"Oh! Well, the toothpaste factory thought they'd give me a bit of time off," Mr. Bucket said uncomfortably.

"Like summer vacation?"

"Sure. Something like that."

They hadn't explained anything to Charlie? You took a deep breath as you put the TV away before going to your room. Now that you were the only person bringing in money, everyone was counting on you. You still remember how embarrassed they looked when you told them that Bill made you take a whole weekend off to rest after a whole week of night shifts. But now that you were well rested, you could go back to work.

(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)

"Only one more ticket, kiddo. Only one!" Bill said as he finished cleaning a section of his little shop. "It would be great if it was in my shop!"

"Don't get your hopes up, Bill. What do you have? One in a billion chance?"

"But I still have a chance."

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. The frenzy of golden tickets was calming down. Now that there was only one tablet left, people were losing hope of finding it. Night had just fallen, you were putting new tablets on the display when you heard the chime sound. You turned to the late-night customer who was strange. This person was two heads taller than you, wore a long trench coat and a hat that didn't show his face.

"Good evening," you greeted uncertainly. "I can help you?"

The person said nothing. He just reached for a Wonka chocolate bar and put it on the counter. You went behind the counter giving the price to the person who handed you a twenty dollar bill. You opened the cash register to put the note in and give change to the strange man. But to your surprise, it had disappeared leaving the bar on the counter. You went out into the street, looking for the man. There was no one on the street.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" Bill asked, watching you go back behind the counter.

"Yeah, just...a weird guy who bought a chocolate and left it with all his change," you say, putting the change back in the box.

"Oh, (Y/N)! Do you have a secret admirer?"

"No way."

"Keep the helm if he hasn't touched it."

You stuck out your thumb to say you understood. You went to put the bar in your locker, deciding to save it for later. The passing night had been calm.

A new day was beginning for you. You were saying hello to the Bucket family on your way to Bill's shop. You passed a clothing store. The window has been eyeing you for a while. One of the models wore a cream-coloured wool sweater, a long pale pink skirt decorated with a brown braided belt and flat-heeled lace-up boots. You dreamed of buying your clothes. You dreamed of having beautiful clothes. But it was impossible.

"Did you see that some kid in Russia found the last golden ticket?"

"Yes, it was in the paper this morning."

A sigh escaped your lips. The last golden ticket had been found. You were walking away from the store to get to work. Luckily, the day was calm. A customer was quietly reading the newspaper and two others strolled through the shelves. The chimes were ringing, the fourth customer was none other than your cousin Charlie.

"Hey you," you waved, leaning against the counter.

"Hi (Y/N). Can you give me a Wonka Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight bar, please?" he asked, handing you a ten dollar bill.

You took a Wonka tablet which you gave to Charlie before taking the ticket. You excused yourself from Bill to reach the cash register. You put away the note and prepared the change which you returned to Charlie.

"Russian ticket a fake. The nerve of some people," commented the customer who was reading her newspaper.

"It's not even surprising," you say, leaning against the counter.

"Forging a ticket. Come on," Bill commented back. Hold on. If the Russian ticket is a fake. That means there's still a chance. You watched Charlie unbox his tablet. But bad luck for him, there was no golden ticket. You were ruffling your cousin's hair.

"Aren't you disappointed?" Charlie asked looking at you.

"No," you say straightening up. "Because I know there's very little chance I'll find a ticket. At least you have the chocolate."

Charlie nodded slightly as he leaned against the counter to eat his chocolate bar. When you saw it, you remembered that yours was waiting for you in your locker. You went to have the Wonka chocolate before going back to your cousin. You were unpacking the candy in front of everyone. By removing the aluminum, you saw a golden glow emanating from your candy. You froze when you saw the gold leaf glow under the store's neon lights. It must have been impossible. Seeing your surprised look, Charlie asked you if you were okay. With a trembling hand, you slowly removed the golden paper on which it was written roughly: Golden Ticket.

"That's...," Charlie began in surprise.

"That's a golden ticket," Bill said when a huge smile formed on his lips. "You found the last Wonka Golden Ticket! In my shop!"

You giggled as you gaped at Charlie. You must have been dreaming. You hadn't slept properly the last few days. You pinched your forearm, but the pain confirmed that you were beautiful and wide awake. Charlie was rushing over to you when the man browsing the shelves rushed to the counter, offering to sell him your ticket for fifty bucks and a new bike. The second woman in the store was screaming that he was completely crazy and that she was giving five hundred dollars for the ticket. She was smiling in a way that wanted to be reassuring, but it made her feel scary. She looked like a witch.

"Enough! Leave her alone!" Bille growled, calming the customers who were devouring your ticket with their eyes. "Don't let anyone have it (Y/N)! Hurry back home!"

"Thank Bill!" You grabbed Charlie's hand and ran out of the store.

You and your cousin were running as fast as you could, under the curious gazes of passers-by. A huge smile stretched your lips. You couldn't believe you found the last golden ticket. You came running to the little cabin, Charlie shouted to his parents, working in the garden, that you had found him. You stormed into the house, waking up your grandparents. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket returned in their turn, arms full. You handed the ticket to Grandpa Joe who strained his eyes to see the ticket. His eyes widened when he realized what you had just given him. "

Yippee!" yelled Grandpa Joe before jumping out of bed to start a dance of joy.

The whole house watched Grandpa Joe dance as he handed the ticket to his son-in-law, who dropped what was in his arms, asking him to read aloud what was written on it. Your uncle took the ticket to read the instructions aloud.

Greetings to you,

The lucky finder of the Golden Ticket, from Mr Willy Wonka. I shake you warmly by the hand. For now, I do invite you to come to my factory and be my guest for one whole day. I, Willy Wonka, will conduct you around the factory myself showing you everuthing there is to see. Afterwards, when it is time to leave, you will be escorted home by a possession of large trucks, each one filled with all the chocolate you could ever eat. And remember: One of you lucky five children will receive an extra prize beyond your wildest imagination. Now, here are your instructions: the first of February, you must come to the factory gates at 10 am sharp. You're allowed to ring one family member to look after you. Till then, Willy Wonka.

"First of February? That's tomorrow!" you cried, looking at Charlie.

"Then there's not a moment to lose, Charlie!" exclaimed Grandpa Joe, looking down at his grandson. "Wash you face, comb your hair, scrub your hands, brush your teeth, blow you nose and..."

"And get that mud off your pants," joked Grandpa George.

Your excitement melted like snow in the sun seeing that the attention of the Bucket family was focused on your cousin. Wait. They all thought it was Charlie who found the last ticket. He had however said that it was you who had found him. Not him. A nervous laugh escaped your lips, which caught Charlie's attention. The boy nervously played with his fingers as he heard his parents discussing who was going to accompany him to the chocolate factory, to which Grandpa Joe announced that he was the one who would accompany him. Your blood boiled when you heard that.

"Okay," you say, approaching your uncle and aunt to take the golden ticket back from them. "Okay stop there now."

"(Y/N)? Are you okay?" Grandma Josephine asked, looking puzzled at you.

"Am I okay?" you asked nervously, clutching the ticket in your fist. "I look fine?! Guys! I found that golden ticket! It's not Charlie's, it's mine!"

The joy in the cabin was fading. You bit your lip ruffling your hair. You wanted to cry. It was always the same. Everything had to go to Charlie, the biological and desired child. You saw Grandpa Joe sit back on the bed with a bruised expression, as if you had told him that you had just killed someone. Mrs. Bucket was nervously fiddling with her fingers, mustering up her courage to talk to you.

"(Y/N), honey."

You were mentally pleading that she wouldn't ask you that.

"It would make...a wonderful gift for Charlie and Grandpa Joe..."

"Mom!" Charlie exclaimed.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. You shook your head as you backed out the front door. Charlie was asking you to stay, but you preferred to leave for now. Otherwise, you were going to say things you were going to regret. You left the cabin, running through the deserted streets of the city. You had to get as far away as possible from that cabin, from the Bucket family. You stopped in front of the gates of the Chocolate Factory. Your breath was erratic, tears blurred your vision and streamed down your cheeks. It was always the same, you had to sacrifice yourself for Charlie's sake. Your well-being came second. You hid the golden ticket in your coat pocket, you leaned your back against the wall, letting you slide down to the floor. You didn't care if the melted snow soaked your clothes, you didn't care if you were out late at one o'clock. You didn't care about anything now. You wrapped your arms around your legs, the pantyhose against your chest. You rested your forehead against your legs, crying silently. Your uncle, your aunt and your grandparents knew that you dreamed of visiting the chocolate factory and meeting Willy Wonka. All the stories Grandpa Joe told you made you want to work in a chocolate factory, but you didn't have a degree and because of your shabby old clothes, no one wanted to take you on as an apprentice. Bill was the only person who was kind enough to hire you. You heard the snow crunch under someone's feet. You ignored the person, thinking he or she was going to move on.

"Such a pretty young woman should not be left alone in the street at such a late hour."

You look up to see the man who saved you from an argument with a disgruntled customer. You quickly wiped away your tears as you stood up and rubbed the back of your pants, brushing the snow away.

"I… I needed some fresh air," you say, your throat tight as you fake a smile.

The man approached a neutral air and observed you attentively, which made you uncomfortable. The man held out his leather-gloved hand to your face, wiping away a tear that had managed to escape your eye. You looked at the man surprised by feeling the leather caress your cheek.

"You cry."

"It's nothing," you said quickly, taking a step back and giggling. "The last few days we've been crazy about the golden tickets."

Saying that, you took the crumpled golden ticket out of your pocket. Seeing that, a delighted smile stretched her lips.

"You got the last golden ticket! Congratulations, Barley sugar!"

"Yeah," you say looking at the ticket with some contempt.

"You don't seem very pleased."

"That's not it," you say, sighing loudly and leaning against the wall. "I was excited when I found the ticket, but..."

"But?" the man asked, leaning against his cane.

"My family thought it was my cousin who found it when I gave it to them. They were talking about how it was going to be my cousin and my grandpa Joe going to visit the chocolate factory. When I told them said I was the one who found him, I felt like I had told them that I had killed someone. All their joy had melted like snow in the sun and my aunt had the nerve to asking me to let my grandpa and my cousin visit the chocolate factory."

"She dared to do such a thing?"

"Yes, and it's not the first time. It's always been the same. My cousin's happiness comes before mine."

You felt your throat constrict and the tears that threatened to flow again. You bit your lip as you leaned against the huge wall surrounding the chocolate factory. You didn't have to crack. You had to change the subject. Your gaze rested on a shoebox and a bag from the store that had been eyeing you for a while.

"I didn't know the clothing stores stayed open this late," you say, forcing yourself to smile.

"They're not," he said, holding the shoebox and bag out to you. "Congratulations again on finding the last golden ticket, Barley sugar."

You took the bag and the box looking at the puzzled man. Was it a gift? Why had he done that? You opened the shoebox where the flat-heeled lace-up boots you had seen were. The most surprising thing was that they were your size. You closed the box to check the bag that contained the clothes you dreamed of buying. You looked at the surprised strange man while this one smiled.

"Wear them tomorrow, Barley sugar," he says before turning his back on you to disappear into the night. "Good night."

"Go-good night," you gape. In shock, you returned to the Bucket family cabin. You ignored your family who asked you about the packages you had. You went up to your room, joining Charlie who was sitting on the bed. The boy looked at you embarrassed.

"(Y/N)...I'm sorry about earlier," Charlie apologized in a low voice and playing nervously with his fingers.

"You had nothing to do with it," you say in the same tone. "I shouldn't have reacted like that. Maybe I overdid it."

"You're the one who found the golden ticket. I would have been mad too if someone had done that to me," he said when his attention fell on your packages. "What is it?"

"A guy I just met gave me a present," you say, showing your cousin the clothes and boots. "Look. I'll wear this tomorrow to visit the chocolate factory. You may also have some nice clothes for tomorrow."

"You mean that..."

"You seriously thought I was going to visit the chocolate factory without you?"

Charlie stood up suddenly, jumping for joy on the bed before jumping into your arms. You both laugh until Mr. Bucket comes up to the bedroom to see what's going on and to tell you to mute your grandparents. Charlie was apologizing to his dad as you put your clothes under the bed. You slipped under the covers, next to Charlie who was smiling smugly.

"Sleep, Charlie. We have to be in good shape for tomorrow."

Charlie chuckled as he pulled the blanket over his shoulder to fall asleep. You smiled seeing that Charlie was so happy. At least the day was ending on a positive note.

[dinaton]

anyone who blames ethan is nuts

Oh, really? What Ethan did to Heisenberg in the game makes me hate him.

Ethan's defenders were never known for their intelligence, just like their favorite character lol. Well, I'll try to sort out this pile of crap. Let's go.

anyone who geniunly believes ethan was an idiot for not taking the deal is forgetting that he is in fact his own character and would rightfully not want to use his baby under a vague deal that doesn’t even elaborate on details

Well, clarify these details, what is the problem? Find out what your “enemy’s” plan is, and then make a decision whether to enter into a deal with him or not. Because Ethan himself has no plan to save Rose. He shouts a lot about saving his daughter, but how is he going to do it?

Yeah, what's the plan, Ethan?

When he arrives at the factory, he already has all four flasks, and all he has left is to figure out how to put his daughter back together. And the only one who offered him help in saving his daughter was Heisenberg. Which brings us to the next argument:

why should it have been on ethan to negotiate with the dude who has done nothing to prove himself as trustworthy

Heisenberg seems to know a lot more than Ethan. But Ethan, instead of listening to him properly and offering his terms, just tells him "fuck you" and then kills him. For what? Did Heisenberg's death somehow help him get Rose back? No, this dumbass still has no idea what to do. Even Miranda makes fun of him. Do I really need to describe in detail why this character is hopelessly stupid?

ethan was not stupid or wrong for not taking karls deal

No, he was. Ethan made no effort to return his daughter from the flasks to normal. Miranda did it for him. And it was just so lucky that Rose turned out to be stronger than the megamycete and was not reborn as Eve, but retained her consciousness. If anything had gone wrong during the ritual, Ethan would have lost his daughter forever. There was too much at stake, and too many lucky coincidences, don't you think? It is very risky to leave the situation to chance and expect that everything will resolve itself. It’s as risky as trusting that strange guy in the hat.

Next point: immorality. Rose is a bioweapon. Whether you like it or not. But that's what she does at the end of the game, which is absorb Miranda's powers and weaken her, making her vulnerable to bullets. (in case you forgot, before this Miranda didn't care about gunshots).

It looks more obvious in this storyboard.

So how exactly was Heisenberg going to use Rose against Miranda? We'll never know because Ethan doesn't know how to ask questions.

[hajihiko]

I know comms are closed rn but for when they open up in future, for those of us who have little to no idea how buying commissions work, could you answer some basic questions on it? Like if the buyer needs to be crazy specific or give a very loose idea so the artist can do their thing? And if people in the background count as extra characters or a background? I’m sure these are mostly a person-by-person thing, but I’d love to know your preferences/thoughts!

Like u said it depends on the artist, so just in my case:

-the specificity is up to you! If you give a vague idea and tell me to go nuts, I will (but then you can't complain it isn't what you envisioned). If you give me lots of details I'll do my best to adhere to those. I definitely lean more towards details so I usually end up asking about expressions, lighting, mood, etc (and I ask a Lot). When it comes to characters I don't know, I'd usually prefer to at least have an idea of the personalities so it looks right. I also generally send sketch and colour previews to make sure it's coming together correctly.

-i only do vague backgrounds so random people would just be faint silhouette, charged as a part of the background. Specific characters in the background or characters with any detail would be extra. (So "people at a cafe" = silhouettes, part of bg, "classmates x y and z sitting on another table" = extra $)

[nishnormp]

thinking way too hard about things that probably do not need this much thought

In lieu of tfc merc brainrot, I have decided to do some historical research and character workshopping to shape out the details of everything needed in ficwriting. I have nothing else to post (my art is not going well) so I might as well scream about this

P1: TF2 alternate history bullshit

Abraham Lincoln inventing rocket jumping before the existence of stairs, the entire thing with Australium, so on. Despite TFC having modern kevlar (as opposed to looney toons weapons, but a bit about that later) and a more serious/gritty tone, the setting is still within the TF2 universe; which means having a weird fusion of irl history and vaguely reasonable fantasy absurdities.

To clarify, I am not a bona fide history nut who knows absolutely everything (ffs my own country's history doesn't even play much in western incidents). I've just been doing research thru online articles, videos, and talking to other ppl who know more than me, so my brain can lack a bit for certain things; do correct me if I get anything wrong.

By the 1850s (estimation) Australia became a tech giant due to discovering Australium, making insane progress in basically every field (and also making their population very jacked). Newfound inventions also require raw resources, and this page confirms that australians pick their leader mostly based on pure strength, which begs the question; are they still connected to Britain? Would there still be a benefit for them to be linked to Britian the way they are?

There are many cases where nations plunder other nations just for natural resources; Britian is one particularly infamous force with many colonies, which makes me wonder if Australia ever resorted to snatching them just to afford all the material components that their tech requires. Australia was part of the British Empire up until 1901 irl (not too far from 1890), but the question about resources and sovereignty(even if symbolic) still remain (Britain likely wouldn't like a territory growing at terrifying and eventually unmanageable rates, and at that rate I doubt Australia would settle for middling trade margins)

(Well, apparently Saxton owns England. But that was when he discovered the internet)

There's also the ensemble of first gen mercs. RED and BLU recruit progressively less important mercs as time goes on, starting from important historical/media figures, to modern militant professional-lookin dudes, and finally to the current crop of crackheaded TF2 mercs we know and love. The Original mercs I mostly want to focus on are Abraham Lincoln and John Henry.

I'm not exactly sure if John Henry is even a real person, but he was a symbol for labor movements and the civil rights movement; the fact that he IS a real person in TF2 lore is p vital methinks, especially since him and Lincoln seem to be on the same team. Mercs are paid a lot, even the "bottom of the barrel" tf2 ones: scout has his merch collection to show for it, medic has his exotic animal parts, heavy has his gun ammo (and also casually gave a child 7k dollars), etc; could John Henry have spearheaded civil rights movements not just in America but also other territories (like africa) with the bread and merits he got for the job? Does he have a legacy with rouge merc groups (armed unions?) that fight against imperialism? Maybe even effect/radicalize Lincoln about some things??? Unethical business practices still persist even in Saxton's era (hell, he's an example) but maybe the (hypothetical) challenges to Britain's grasp on its colonies and evolution of munitions would give the people an edge.

I have no idea how a drastically colony-less Britain would affect the timeline of WW1 (esp in less popular side-wars like in South Africa where Britain was very much involved, which may be problematic since my interp of cmedic is FROM there but anyways) (btw they only won that bc they out-attritioned Germany, but by that point maybe the dutch or the americans would take over), but surprisingly enough WW2 ends at around the same time it does irl, despite my initial thought that a roided-out Allied Australia would be more than capable of turning the Axis Powers into a skidmark. The likely explanation for that is that the finer details were just not important for the tf2 comics that took place AFTER (fair enough), but as someone planning to write the 1930s mercs . Pain . My working explanation is that seemingly unaligned private contractors can get ahold of weapons easier than Certain governments, which makes mercs more popular than national soldiers for carrying out certain missions (plausible employer deniability baybeeee).

P2: Conflicting class meta - CHeavy edition

Onto something less heavy, another part of ficwriting is figuring out how characters are...characterized. The TFC mercs dont have much canonical info (I've already turned two of them into straight up ocs because I am NOT going to write p3dos from start to finish of a longfic) so I settle for looking at other things, like gameplay and ingame roles.

The first I focused on was cheavy, the leader of the group. Grouchy, but a surprisingly tolerant team player.

This IS reused from a previous post (im lazy) but the first bullet basically says "otherwise, offensive heavies are frequently looked down on and the power of the other team's defense will have you dead in no time". Gameplay-wise, CHeavy is considered the simplest class and the easiest one to master; most tfc gamers think its a common noob pick. His total health is pretty good, he occupies a big space so he can block narrow paths, and the way he attacks is simple; but he's slow even when b-hopping (grenades cant boost him either) so he can be outrun/picked apart by other classes, which really shows in tfc's most popular game format: capture the flag.

I've seen about a handful video of tfc gameplay that WASN'T ctf (or the slightly diff gamemode with a defense system), and even if the 4th bullet point is right, those two classes are usually doing more important things during ctf. My main point is that despite being the leader, he isn't the type of class to lead the charge.

The most reasonable thing I can think of is that he's just . Really good at strategy and can keep track of his team while reliably holding down a position. That, and his superior bulk makes him shine more outside of the gravel pits. Whatever it is, it does make more sense to me now that I revisit the comic panels where he is VERY spiteful that his teammates got killed (rather than calling them weak, they fr matter to him bc otherwise, he isn't getting shit done)

(Ik the reason hes the boss is bc big scary dude and karmic ass-handing via other heavy who actually respects his doctor but shh the fic demands reasons)

P3: Conflicting class meta - Cmedic edition

The contradiction I can immediately clock is the fact that cmedic never gets mentioned despite his omnipresence in his original game. Most hc's I've seen interpret him as the exact opposite of the current medic, which is a dedicated doctor who also happens to be a sweetheart (with very rare exceptions), but may I propose the theory that all mannco medic mercs are bastards? I'm 99% sure that the original medic was sigmund freud. TF2 medic is just a menace. Post WW1 most moral and noble medics would bust their asses at hospitals rather than sign up to a contract tying them down to just healing 8 other people and killing other people over and over, but that's just my hc (we're all making shit up, might as well have fun with it).

The most common citing for cmed's hidden menace energy is his virus weaponry, but I think his ingame role also shows it pretty well. Practically taking the scout's niche and making it less punishing by having straight upgrades of his two weapons, giving healing utility AND also being able to sniff out spies like a cscout (he can't diffuse bombs or trail caltrops, but he's already powerful as is). Imagine being cscout, having to compete for flag capture points with this guy who practically has everything you have but better (instead of leaving behind super visible spikes he has a college degree). This isn't even like the modern sniper vs spy debate where it can still be debated that spy has a unique niche with his mindgames, cmedic just straight up took copied his homework, 98% percent matching on the plagiarism bot.

Cscout and cmedic beef is very likely, but if cscout is a literal god at what he does then there won't be much issue, since the best cscout is ultimately better at flagrunning than cmedic. Its likely that cscout is simply human tho, so that's some drama that can happen.

Funnily enough the tfc class that gets the most weight and hate on its shoulders is sniper. This is because servers have a limit on how many snipers can join, and if a shitty sniper took up the slots, the rest of the team would be pretty pissed. Meanwhile, a competent sniper is the bane of every player's existence; a missed shot can still slow someone down until a medic cures them.

P4: cmedic backstory building hell - barely organized nonsense

Last one I swear. My drawings of cmedic explicitly portray him as a person of color- more specifically a cape malay, from the cape territory in South Africa; he even curses in malay in one of the posts. Ig I wanted the cast to be more diverse, but it did make his backstory somewhat harder to write.

Mann co is situated in New Mexico, far from SA. How and why did he get all the way there? With the fanon worldbuilding I set, what is stopping him from simply joining a nearer merc group? Probably heard of it through the grapevine, and travelled for fat stacks; wouldn't be uncommon for doctors (or mercs) to be highly motivated due to money. I wondered of what would set him apart from all the other hypothetical medic applicants that probably graduated from upstanding colleges like harvard, then I recall all those common hcs.

1)Most applicants assumed that the job would consist of primarily healing, without considering how bloodthirsty their company would be, and/or 2)the BLU team has been getting genuine medics and chewing them up like gum (and spitting them out utterly mangled, I suppose). There's also the possibility that some margin of these medics actually had some weapon training, but at that point a lot of time has been spent (also some conflicting motives there, I can't imagine the perks that a deadly merc job has over a hospital job unless the guy got a kick out of it).

My next idea was to make him a ww1 vet on the side of the British (australian? american?) colonies of SA, having joined midway after finishing his education. However this would clock his age during the current 1970s timeline to be around 81, pretty old; most of the tfc mercs would be 70s max around that time. Cmedic is visually the youngest of the mercs too, you can compare his smooth eyes to the more sunken cspy's eyes and there is a notable difference. This is really just an issue of me being on the fence about fully oc-fying him (a friend of him suggested making him a vampire, I am almost tempted to make it so).

In the case that particular hurdle is overcome, there are more details I have to iron out. I figured that his motives either come from wanting to financially help out his family after the war's sheer devastation, or just . a general resentment for the way things unfolded, and he swapped to merc work in the states to get properly paid for his work and (attempt to) fill the void in his soul. Maybe a mix of the two. An outlier in his community for being a godless man and having very material and tangible masters (science and money), he abandons the lofty ideals of nationalism and sides himself with the highest bidder in the private market. Also developed an insane immune system (trenches and exposure are no joke).

(Certain classes have shared characteristics across gens, like the demos' deranged smiles and engies' wholesome vibes. With sigmund freud, tf2 medic as the archetypal mad doctor, and tfc medic as the archetypal capitalist doctor, there are now three gens of doctors with dubious machinations.)

He'd probably be a great medic, respecting merc code and all (funfact tf2 medic mentions tfc demo by name, implying that he knows his real name and putting a dent in my theory that being on a first-name basis is a big deal actually , my countertheory to that is that grey mann gave him the team's files and tf2 medic wants to spite them). Cmedic also reverse-engineered the medkit and made a new version for non-gravel war missions, since the usual has several hard drugs (heals to full instantly and gives adrenaline boost, sounds sus especially if you read jarate's side effects) since he ended up somewhat caring about his pack of rabid animals