#any fucking time now valve
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So, I reread your post on how you aren't too fond of spy parodies in the James Bond vein, and it made me think: what are your thoughts on how TF2 intersects with that kind of pulp fiction or spy fiction?
I don't think I'm "not too fond of" spy parodies in general, really, whatever my thoughts on James Bond himself I'm not adverse to spy fiction or spy parodies, they just usually don't do much of anything for me. Maybe part of that is because I got really, really spoiled early with TF2, which was one of my first big fandoms.
First thing that comes to mind with the idea of an intersection between TF2 and spy fiction is an SFM short called Agent Gunn: Vulkanite, which is fan-made but well-made to the point it might as well be official. It's a short film about this badass superspy Bond character with an ending that shows what happens when you put James Bond in the TF2 universe: He may get to do all that James Bond crap and look cool and stylish and so on, but since this is Team Fortress 2, the Mercs will eventually show up to kick his ass and steal his shit and ride off into the sunset laughing at him. Whether that’s because this is their turf and old-school conventions don’t apply here, because TF2′s parody status demands this to happen, or because it’s the TF2 mercs and this is just what you’d expect them to do regardless, it’s up to you.
TF2 over the years has kinda blossomed into this ever-more-absurd cartoon of itself in a way that's only made it funnier and more long-lasting than it might have been otherwise, so it's interesting to look back on it's early years, in it's initial design documents, and see a point where they had the design and art style figured out, but not quite the personality down pat. It’s funny to think that TF2′s design was specifically set to be retro-inspired, in many ways more retro than Team Fortress 1 (Classic) was intended to be, because “retro” is not usually an adjective we associate with timeless design, quite the opposite. Team Fortress 2′s approach to design is, or at least was, a bunch of J.C Leyendecker-looking characters duking it out in an 1960s spy movie setting, a combination that feels like it should be in a dated prequel to a modern FPS, not in the sequel to one.
A lot of this comes down to the fact that Team Fortress 2 was, originally, intended to have that kind of modern warfare aesthetic, and they had 9 years in development to work out a lot of things about this game and change it, ultimately realizing that all their attempts to make this gritty and realistic and serious experience didn’t match at all the actual experience of playing a first-person shooter, which is chaos and nonsense and people dicking around. They ended up instead taking the better road, which was to embrace the chaos and allow for the game to be funny, but most importantly, make it distinct. Making each of it’s characters distinct from each other became the top priority, and it paid off superbly.
A lot of what sets TF2 apart from most other FPS games comes from the fact that it works with the player experience and embraces it in it’s sheer chaos, and this, I think, also works in it’s favor in regards to how it relates to those two influences. TF2 gets a lot of praise for it’s extremely strong cast of personalities and rightfully so, and it also gets a lot of great jokes out of just playing around with the setting it’s built for itself and how the characters live, kill and/or die in it. The characters are absurd because the world is absurd, and sometimes the world gets so absurd that the characters can even look normal or well-adjusted by comparison.
I think a lot of it’s strengths are helped by the fact that it’s characters weren’t originally designed to be funny first and foremost, which is why the comics succeed in doing dramatic bits with them, but they all lend themselves to be funny not just because of their personalities, but because they live and participate in this superspy warfare world, and that kind of thing is just inherently bonkers no matter how you cut it. It’s a lot like how, no matter how dark and gritty and aggressively self-important superheroes get, they will never wash away that childish whimsy of it’s origins, and this is not at all a negative. Team Fortress 2 gets to have pretty much most of the great and cool parts of spy fiction, even played as straight as the creators want it to be, or making it even cooler by having you live out those (particularly if you happen to be one of the bastards who plays Spy, which I am lmao), but it also gets to dick around and poke fun at the entire genre/format extensively.
It’s intersection with spy fiction is that TF2 (and Venture Bros as well) is one of the great, wonderful consequences of living in a world where Austin Powers killed James Bond.
Now, there’s an argument to be made that TF2 isn’t exactly pulling from “traditional” pulp fiction that much, considering that the bulk of it’s inspirations comes from the men’s adventure paperbacks that were specifically not the pulps and were partially instrumental in the downfall of pulp fiction in American circles. But, I can’t bring myself to seriously argue that kind of stuff doesn’t fall under the pulp umbrella (I think most people even call it pulp nowadays), I think I’ve talked enough about how impossible and useless it is to define pulp fiction under those parameters. It’s also not an argument worth exploring in regards to TF2 because, well, it very clearly has pulp love in it’s blood, the biggest reasoning as to why being, the entire existence of Saxton Hale,
who’s sort of Professor Challenger if he borrowed Doc Savage’s workout ethic, and General Zaroff for most of the other ethics. Who initially existed mainly so the creators could get as much over-the-top pulp nonsense humor out of their systems as possible, and who stayed that way even as he was developed into more of a character, still far more absurd than the other characters but with an established personality, as the merc’s comedically insensitive boisterious arms-dealing Great White Hunter shitbag of a boss with this wholly separate world of adventures that mostly don’t show up and don’t matter except for when it’s funny, and who gets away with being a shitbag because he’s funny and the setting has considerably worse villains.
To bring up Venture Bros again, in some ways, Saxton kinda feels like he fulfills a similar role to Jonas Venture Sr, in the sense that he’s painted with broader strokes than the other characters in ways that make him a monument to the pulp side of things that runs in the work’s blood, sort of embodying a part of this universe in a way, and the fact that these two are more of aggressive pastiches than the other characters serves to underline that they are not on the same level as the other characters and also that they lord over them, because they fit in this world in ways they don’t, because they’re cut out to thrive in all this retro superspy cartoon warfare nonsense, if not having outright created or inspired much of it himself. Saxton is practically a saint compared to Jonas but, that has more to do with the fact that Team Fortress 2 is considerably more light-hearted and funny than Venture Bros and it has considerably different priorities for storytelling.
Speaking of the more pulp side of TF2, it’s also important to note that, in the lore of the series, it was established that the conflict between RED vs BLU has been ongoing for decades before any of the mercs were even born, and that the first team of mercenaries (pictured above) hired by the Mann brothers in 1850 consisted of sort of a League of Extraordinary Gentlemen set-up of several big historical figures filling in the roles, most of whom based on real people except for John Henry (who fills in for Heavy), and Fu Manchu (who was the original Spy). A lot of modern pulp works use this approach extensively in order to go for a retro vibe or explore alternate history scenarios and, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have to dig very hard to find one or several examples of “pulp” stories written in modern times where Abraham Lincoln’s wielding a flamethrower or Nikola Tesla kickstarts a sci-fi revolution.
I will say that I do find the usage of Fu Manchu in this line-up interesting. The bulk of the character’s adventures all take place in the 1900s (with the earliest date canonically attributed to him being 1880 as when he began a plot spanning 30 years, and PJF attributing his birth year to 1840), and no work, as far as I can find, ever depicted him as a young man, let alone potentially a hero (the comics do emphasize a lot how Spy as a person is nowhere near as much of a bastard as his in-game reputation indicates) and certainly not a team player alongside the likes of Nikola Tesla, and considering the kind of things he does and says as an elderly crimelord, for Fu Manchu to have spent his youth working as a mercenary for rich American bastards? That implies a character arc of sorts. (This seems to be the last named appearence Fu Manchu has ever made in any piece of pop culture, not counting Shang Chi’s father, but a name change doesn’t really make him a different character and plenty of really great modern Shang Chi stories still make use of the Fu Manchu iconography to make a point without making any actual tribute to the character, which is the ideal outcome). This is a largely irrelevant piece of trivia within the context of TF2, just something I wanted to highlight if we’re talking the way pulp shows up in TF2, at least overtly.
Part of the reason why I did bring up Venture Bros and other stuff is because, and I do stress this everytime I get talking about TF2, but the game has grown so much past it’s beginnings that it’s kind of mind-boggling to get your head around, for the past 15 years it’s been alive and kicking and, much like it’s characters, breaking the rules and defying logic and somehow still staying alive even when they should have been dead and buried a billion times now, even after it’s been followed up by countless shinier and trendier shooters, even after it’s been left to die and plagued with issues after issues, after everyone says it’s dead. I guess to me that’s the most “pulp” thing about it, the way it intersects most with the kind of pulp fiction I spotlight on my blog.
Not just it’s aesthetics and approach to storytelling and violence and humor and protagonist as unhinged and mercurial as they are human and persistent to the bitter end, but the fact that the thing as a whole just doesn’t die, even when by all means it already has and shouldn’t even exist anymore. It just keeps on finding new ways to live again and again and keep on trucking, as fiction, as a style, as a fanbase, as a meme (as many, many, many, many, many memes, actually), as a dream or goal. It’s still beloved by many and it still has plenty of gas in the tank. It will not die.
...It sure could use an actual goddamn update any second now, though.
#replies tag#team fortress 2#tf2#pulp heroes#pulp fiction#spy fiction#valve#steam#heavy weapons guy#the spy#miss pauling#saxton hale#oh sorry#SAAXTON HAAAAAAAAAALE#any fucking time now valve
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how do you feel about the new tf2 leaks?
Oh it big sucks!
listen, this leak honestly makes me so mad im not even joking. not because of like, leaks like this cause so much trouble for the developers who own them (in how to combat it), or for the source licencees who are affected by the leak, but WHO it affects in this community.
say you've been working a beta recreation of 2Fort from Trailer 2 (since it's the version with the most footage), you've been working on it in your spare time for the past... 6 years lets say. you know the ins and outs of this map, you've watched footage and studied screenshots from around August 2006, and you've made an intense list of all the eras of 2Fort to ensure you have a timeline of eras so you know which to avoid and such.
so your beta 2Fort recreation is as accurate it can be from all the public media you could find from it. you've even gotten the sewers to be as low as they were in the beta combined with the higher water. there's some things left to your interpretation of the map, since the sewers have never been shown for example, and you push it out for people to play around on. this was basically your hobby for the past 6 years, and it meant so much to you to be able to create something with a love you can't put to words.
suddenly. the worst thing imaginable. a month after you post it? an entire developer repo leaks. and lets pretend it's got that version of 2Fort intact. that's a serious gut punch BUT, then you get comments from folks like "oh the actual 2fort leaked" "this is obsolete now" "oh well a recreation couldn't ever top a leak". it's demoralizing. it breaks their spirit for something they worked so hard on. the one thing you loved working on? well seemingly it doesn't matter now to the community you painstakingly made it for.
that's what hurts for me, is the people who've created content based off of things from TF2 (like the Spellcasters Witch), whom have made it from scratch, added their own personal touches like different outfits and hairstyles, to the ability to allow the user to recolour every part of that outfit. then a leak comes along and it seems everyone's ferally knashing their teeth at this leak. no leak can ever come close to the kind of love community members put into stuff.
that's why i hate this leak. and even with the 60 gigabytes of stuff that's leaked? people are still like "oh well this doesn't have everything 🙄". like sorry 60GB wasn't enough for you?
i hope we never see a TF2 leak again. this shit sucks and i hate the community around it.
#ask#catsmocha#i dont care whats in it. i dont care what maps are found. it fucking sucks#id have to imagine that any valve dev who had a slight want in working on TF2 again have quickly changed their mind from this#what do i know. im just some guy#but the whole ''cut content community'' for tf2 sucks#theyve been sitting on their hands waiting for the repo to leak. and theyre not even satisfied#now they want the SFM repo! which i bet doesnt exist. or wont exist now that this's happened#good job you idiots!#youll never see a TF2 leak after this point ill tell you that much. and good!!!! fuck 'em!!!#none of them deserve this stuff#sorry im just really mad at how people treat scrapped content for this game#theres so much stuff PUBLICLY AVAILABLE TO YOU that you can research through and find new stuff#but no 🙄💅 gotta get my hands on that repo!!! cant waste my time looking elsewhere#it makes me so mad#legit my heart goes out to the content creators who made models and maps before this leak#you put so much work into your craft. im sorry its being ignored for this shit#thank you for the ask honestly. i feel like if i didnt have an ask like this i wouldve explo💥💥💥💥💥
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officially started my pc journey. immediately lost my first qp game but we won a few team fights against broken heroes so that counts for something, right? 😭😭
Congrats! Welcome to the world of KB/M <3
#be sure to try out other PC games though!!!!#I know portal 1 & 2 aren’t only on pc but all valve games are on sale rn#(steam summer sale so it’s def the best time to look for games)#I know that obviously halo reach isn’t a pc game either but it’s my fav FPS campaign and I cannot stress enough how fun it is#if anyone has any good recommendations for pc gaming in particular please feel free!#I know this is an ow blog and all. but portal is a necessity for like gaming history ( + it’s fun)#hmmm my friends like rimworld and dwarf fortress. as well as civ 5#also I’ve enjoyed playing csgo with a couple of my friends so far!#except it does live up to its reputation of a horrible community#valorant exists too ofc but for me valorant is the bastard child of csgo and overwatch so it’s like#why have the mixture when you can get the experience of each one in its purest form?#HOWEVER DON’T FUCKING GAMBLE IF YOU START PLAYING CS. DO NOT.#valve makes 54 MILLION per MONTH. from csgo gambling. don’t buy into it#it’s so funny to me that my must play games are also on consoles. or straight up were originally on them#the games being halo reach journey and portal 1 & 2.#(also you can emulate and pirate basically anything. welcome to pc gaming!!!)#but anyways!!!!!!!! back to ovw!!!!! congrats on getting to flick properly now!!!!! genuinely <3#c talks
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OBSESSED: YUTA
A/N: Sweet, innocent, puppy-eyed boy who is no better than the frat boys you detest 🤭 (this is for anon who requested a lil crazy special grade sorcerer doing ungodly things!! Shoko feat The Boys ™️ is up next, then I SWEAR I’m done and back to AO3)
C/W: Aged up characters, College AU. Masturbation. Mature, 18+
“YUUTA?! Are you kidding me?”
You stop time.
Heads turn in his direction. But Yuuta doesn’t register any it because of your smile.
The 1000-kilowatt smile that the locker room rumors about. The smile that stops traffic. The one that obliterates his train of thought.
365 days since he’s seen it in person.
And suddently the year in Morocco for his University degree feels frivolous.
Yuuta places two bottles of disgustingly expensive champagne (courtesy of Satoru Gojo) in between the half filled red solo cups.
He’s doing his best to keep his eyes above your delicate, sharp collarbones.
He’s doing his best not to follow the Barbie pink hair string around your neck.
The Barbie pink string connected to the triangular bikini that is defying the laws of gravity, Mother Nature, AND physics to keep your busty, perky chest supported.
Not to mention the sheer netted tissue thin excuse for a cover up. Draped around the curve of your hips. It warms him hotter than the Moroccan sun.
You wire yourself through the crowded sorority house kitchen. And Yuuta gnaws on his inner cheeks. The predatory stares from from the frat drones scattered about ignites a guttural flame.
But he’ll deal with that later.
Because Aphrodite is barreling toward him and he is not worthy.
“I can’t believe you made it!” You launch yourself into him.
“I wouldn’t miss it. Happy 21st birthday, gorgeous.”
One of his arms is more than sufficient enough to wrap around your baby doll frame. Other hand in his pocket, while he easily lifts and spins you around twice.
Airy giggles spill from your lips. So clearly surprised by how strong he has grown. He’s bulkier. More toned. Hell of a lot more confident too.
Is he showing of a little? Of course he is.
“You’re here. You’re really here.” You stare up at him with stars in your eyes. Still in utter disbelief.
Your tiny, warm hands cup his face. Yuuta subconsciously melts into them. You always did strum his body like a harp.
“Yuuta, you must be so tired. Your bedroom eyes are even more…bedroom-y.” You tease.
Yuuta laughs to choke down a groan. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s stained mulberry right now.
Because why would you mention a bedroom while you are wearing a bikini he could snap with his eyes?
“Hey, be nice! You know there’s no amount of caffeine that can fix the bags.” Good, fucking save.
He swallows thickly and averts his gaze. If he keeps looking at you, he’d drown. Like how he drowned freshman, sophomore and junior year.
A continent, couple oceans and a sea away from you couldn’t keep him afloat.
A palpable silence drapes over the two of you. There’s so much he wants to say.
“Who’s is the hot guy birthday girl is talking to?”
“Okkotsu, I think.”
“No WAY. If she doesn’t fuck him i—“
“OKAY!!!” You exclaim loudly, prompting giggles from your sorority sisters behind you.
Your cheeks are now matching his. You both burst into incredulous laughter, letting some of the pressure out of the proverbial valve.
“Give me a tour, birthday girl.” Yuuta grazes his fingers over your bare shoulders because he can’t not touch you.
Your hand magnets to his wrist and you both beeline up the stairs. He knows, you know, -you both know- you are heading straight to your bedroom.
Yuuta’s heart is throbbing so hard his whole rib cage is vibrating. Cotton lines every corner of his mouth and he’s suddenly forgotten how to swallow.
Forgotten how to breathe apparently too, because he chokes on air when you pull him to the front of your room door.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you muse playfully.
And now his cock is at full staff. The measly silver zipper is definitely not strong enough for this.
“I-Im sorry?” Yuuta gurgles through the saliva pooled in his mouth like a hungry puppy.
“It’s a pool party, silly. C’mon, you can use my bathroom to change.”
Yuuta makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop down the dip of your pretty spine. Tracing all the way down to your matching bikini bottom. That’s a thong. Lining between your perfect, plump ass.
God.
No.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
He follows behind you, nails digging into his dark jeans.
“Bathroom’s through the closet, be quick.” You flash him another pristine grin and…and..
..what is his name again…?
Yuuta returns your smile with a lopsided one of his own. The walk to the bathroom is 13 miles long. There’s no way. No way he’s going to be able to hide his unreasonable, rock hard length through his weightless swim trunks.
He halts. Suddenly enchanted by your hanging clothes. Like a Venus fly trap. You’re everywhere.
Your clothes. Your delicious scent. Your jewelry. Your shoes.
Yuuta is in the eye of your vortex.
A long, silky sleeve tickles his cheek. So soft. Electric currents surge through every engorged vessel in his cock. He takes in a long drag of the faint cherry vanilla notes etched into your clothes.
An addict. A hopeless, pathetic addict in a field of his vices.
His fingers earthquake against his buckle. Clumsily stepping out of his jeans.
Just a quick touch. It’ll help him relax. Just really fast, you won’t know.
Yuuta whips around to bury himself in your silk shirt. Heart thundering in his ears. Fingers tickling the hem of his trunks. Shaft fully tented from nothing.
“Yuuta? Did you get lost in there?” Your dulcet voice knock Yuuta’s lust-drunk thoughts loose.
“Ha-N-no! I’m c-coming!”
Yuuta shakily unbuttons his white linen shirt, exposing his lean but chisled core. His cock is diamond hard. Any slight movement and his blunt, leaky tip will peek over the hem.
He strategically folds his pants over the indecent bulge. He just has to count backwards from 500 then he’ll soften and leave the jeans behind.
“Come out!! I won’t bite!” You coax again.
The second Yuuta re-emerges from your closet, he digs the heel of his palm into his crotch. Trying to will his erection down by sheer force because counting just won’t do.
You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning against your palms flat on the duvet.
Your bikini has grown smaller.
It has to have.
Because the way your supple tits spill around the cruel joke that is that top fucks his brain to mush.
Soft curvy lines of your breasts. Feminine pretty lines of your tummy. The swell of your thighs just begging for Yuuta’s lips, his hands…his dick. He could drop to his knees and worship at your alter this second.
“Oh my god!” You giggle again, waving him over to the bed.
“You’re so, big, now.” Your hand lingers on his tensed bicep, currently losing the war against his cock angrily thrashing around in his pants.
“Am I?” Yuuta asks stupidly. Long sentences are off the table.
“Mmhm,” he watches your eyes lazily drink in his face. He must be an embarrassing shade of violet at this point.
Your hand makes its way into his hair and Yuuta just couldn’t choke down the “ohh,” that bubbles out of him.
“God, I’ve missed you, Yuuta.” Your face is so soft. So earnest.
And Yuuta is there with you, he swears he is. It’s just, you’re speaking directly to his cock right now and all the blood has drained from his head to his head.
“I mi-missed you. More.” He manages to grunt out, precum pooling on his thigh.
Hold it together. Fucking hold it together.
You turn your body and scoot closer to him. The peaks and valley of your cleavage, tantalizing him into a mindless fool who can only think about fucking his fist.
“Guys here suck. But not you. You’ve always been amazing,” you murmur, circling feather light shapes against Yuuta’s scalp.
He shudders under your touch. Biting his cheeks so his jaw doesn’t hang open. Drool already threatening to leak from his lips.
“So kind and sweet.” Your eyes drop to his lips at the same that your hand falls to his tensed abs.
And Yuuta is caught in your quick sand. His limbs loosen. Hand on his crotch melts away. Allowing his member to spring upward with all the blood he has in his body. The sudden movement causes his jeans to slide to the floor.
His ears and cheeks burn at his indecency. But he can’t move. He is at your complete mercy. His cock rhythmically pumping out his precum now.
“I..” Yuuta croaks, but in one dizzying motion you dive your lips onto his.
He snaps.
Yuuta’s left hand flies to his neglected, weapy shaft. The friction through his thin trunks evoke a deep moan into your mouth. His other hand grips the back of your head, pressing you forward onto his tongue. He didn’t ask for entry into your lips like he normally would. It’s too dire. He’s too needy.
His hand pumps his length while his tongue maps every corner of your warm mouth. You let out soft, high pitched sighs. Which nearly bring him to finish instantly.
“Oh, Yuuta.” You moan his name. And Yuuta’s hips rut harder into his hands.
He’s hoping, praying you’re too distracted by the bruising kiss to notice the pitiful way he’s bucking his hips. Humping his hand. He’s no better than the guys you were talking about. No better.
“OH BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!!” Shrill voices from just outside your door rip you two a mile apart.
Yuuta scrambles to his feet, his arm unsuccessfully covering his crotch. You are panting, thumb stroking your bottom lip. Both of you still brimming with your electric chemistry.
“Enough birthday sex!!! Time for TEQUILA!” Your sorority sisters babble and laugh, about 2 seconds away from opening the door.
You grip the handle. Face and body flushed warm rose.
“I-I-uh I have to-“
“Ye—yeah of course, I’ll meet you, down. I’ll meet you down there.”
Both of your voices nervously collide. Looking everywhere but each other’s eyes. You flutter out in haste. Leaving Yuuta in the middle of your room rock hard and a pre cum covered mess.
Like leaving a fiend with an array of illicit substances.
Yuuta turns on his heel and disappears into your closet. He’s not thinking. Logical thought has long ceased to exist. All he can think about is how much his balls ache for you. How drunk he is off your touch. Your taste. Your smell.
His eyes laser down to a crumpled pair of lace panties just a few paces away from your hamper.
Yuuta’s gaze could burn it through the floor.
Stop, Yuuta. Don’t you dare.
He scolds himself. Even though his hands do the opposite. He drops to his knees and pulls his heavy cock free from its barrier. The other hand toying with your worn panties.
He’s filthy. A dirty, nasty scumbag.
Yuuta tugs his cock, aggressively. Jaw hanging open. Short desperate huffs of air escaping his lips.
No, don’t. Stop. “Nnhhgh s-top…fuck..n-no.” His jagged thoughts and jagged words intertwine. Squelching noises from his arousal pierce through his groans.
Yuuta brings your panties to his nose, and nearly blacks out. Your scent. So fucking delicious. So perfect.
He needs to taste.
His groans become garbled when he stuffs your panties into his mouth. Every single nerve ending in his body ruptures.
Yuuta pumps his cock with both hands. Feverish. Sloppy thrusts of his hips colliding with his white knuckled fists. The world around him dampens. Blurs.
“Nnnghh..uhhgh..f-FUCK,”
Your spit-drenched underwear rolls out of his mouth onto his sensitive tip. Ropes, and ropes and ropes of his cum fill your soft négligée.
Yuuta hangs his head back, leaning against his calves. His dick still twitching through his nirvana.
After a few moments, the fog slowly lifts from his mind. His vision returns. Yuuta wipes the remnants of his arousal off his cock with your panties. Before tucking them into his pocket.
Unable to look himself in the eye, he quickly rinses his hands, intending to rejoin your party at once.
But, when his hand connects with the cold knob, a voice in the back of his mind pipes up.
Take another one.
And in a trance-like state, Yuuta rushes back to your closet hamper to find another pair of your panties.
A pretty, delicate red number catches his eyes and he stuffs it into a free pocket before scurrying out of your room.
He’s no better than them.
He’s worse.
PART II
#jjk fanart#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#okkotsu yuuta#yuta smut#yuta x reader#yuta okkotsu#jjk yuta#jjk yuuta#okkotsu yuuta smut#yuuta okkotsu smut#yuuta smut#yuuta x reader#yuuta x you#yuuta x y/n#jujutsu kaisen yuuta#yuuta headcanons#yuuta fluff#gojo smut#jjk gojo#smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk#jjk season 2#gojo x reader#jjk au
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Something I've been recommending a lot to my fellow MCAS + POTS-sufferers at the moment, has been investing in a soup blender.
Apart from beta blockers, the primary treatment for POTS is increasing salt and water. A really good way of combining both and upping your nutritional value is by drinking things like bone broth or veggie stock.
But if you're like me with a ton of allergies (so you can't buy anything premade🙃) and bone broth raises your histamine, then you're left with the energy sapping task of making your own.
And I don't know about any of you, but when my nervous system is throwing a wobbler, the last thing I am capable of doing is standing up for long periods at a time over a hot stove.
Some people get around this by using a slow cooker, which is great if you can. I personally can't because slow cooking raises the histamine content of food (especially meat) and also, the clue is in the name, it's a slow cooker and sometimes my POTSie, ADHD butt needs food now-ish or as soon as possible and not 8 hours later. Instapots can be good, but they take up a lot of counter space and also I don't know if you've ever tried to release a pressure cooker valve when you can barely stand, but I genuinely think that's the closest I've come to dying and I've experienced both megaloblastic and hemalytic anemia.
Which is why we got a soup blender. They take up less space, are generally easier to clean, and also easier for me, at least, to use. All you need to do is roughly chop your ingredients up, dump them in the jug, add seasoning, fill the jug with water, hit the soup function and then sit your ass down for the next 20 minutes while this magical fucking thing both cooks and blends you some liquidy goodness.
I will say, don't invest in the instapot one. It's not worth the price point, and the motor burned out on mine after about six months. It was also a pain in the ass to clean. (The self clean was more of a "swish water around for 30 seconds" function and I can't tell you how many times I hurt myself trying to get gunk off the bottom.)
The one I currently have is a Ninja HB152 Foodi Heat-iQ Blender, which was a little more expensive, but in my opinion, far superior and better made. It's faster, makes either chunky or smooth soup, really good consistency dips, ice cream and smoothies. I've also used it to make alternative milks like oat milk and it didn't jam the blades.
It also has a great cleaning system that actually takes a full 6 minutes to run and really gets any residue off the base, and it also alerts you to things like the jug or lid not being secure, which is great when I'm brain-fogged and try to blend things without the lid on.
Anyway, this post brought to you not by Ninja but by @mothman-etd making me some leek and potato soup laden with enough salt to make this POTS episode manageable.
Just throwing the info out there. Hope it helps someone.
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I am now home, fed, rested, and festooned in cats.
I had a lot of opinions about the case I was jury on, but I don’t know how much of it I’ll write up; I kept a kind of disjointed journal, but it’s not super coherent. Turns out if I don’t document my thoughts in real time I get bored of my own mind very quickly.
We were jury for a complicated medical civil case; we heard testimony from six doctors and two nurses and saw so much imaging. I’m sure the plaintiff suing the medical center had bigger concerns, and it’s not like you get detail with the internal imaging we had to examine, but it must have been rough on him that in the course of learning about his injuries, which were on his lower body, we also had to look at multiple images of his dick. It certainly startled me when I realized what we were seeing for the first time.
Most of the trial I was kind of okay with just keeping things to myself, writing and thinking about it privately, but I was dying inside that I couldn’t talk to you guys until now about the asshole juror I mentioned earlier. I had intended to use writing about him as a safety valve -- a sort of “Hey I can’t talk about the trial but wait till you hear what That Guy did today” -- but uh.
So I didn’t actually bully anyone off a jury, but for the rest of my life I am definitely going to claim I did.
The second day of trial, the bailiff grabbed me before trial and said the judge wanted to talk to me; I thought I was in trouble but it turns out that he wanted to know about my interactions with the other juror. Apparently the bailiff had seen me step in when he was pestering a fellow (female) juror the previous day. Later he got super aggressive with the bailiff herself, and I guess she saw me watching and gauging whether to step in then, too. (I didn’t end up getting involved because she handled him just fine and also she has a gun.)
The judge questioned me about what I’d seen and done and why I’d done it, and then informed me he was removing the juror from the case based on what I’d told him about the man’s behavior. I’m given to understand there may be a charge of contempt of court and a fine, but I’m not clear on the details and it appears I won’t have to get involved further.
But yeah, that’s why you didn’t hear any more about him. Realistically he was removed for harassment, but I like to think a small part of it is that I fucked with him so visibly and thoroughly that they knew “this jury box isn’t big enough for the both of us.”
Anyway, I’m glad it’s over. I would have liked to have spoken to the plaintiff and his wife after the verdict and expressed my sympathy for what they’d gone through, but I think perhaps understandably they didn’t want to linger. Besides, we found in his favor; he seemed pleased with the outcome and his wife was happy-crying as we left, so I expect the message was understood.
My job is not exactly mindless, but it also doesn’t usually involve paying hardcore attention to complex medical testimony for six hours a day. I am exhausted. Fortunately this weekend is relatively laid back -- my only commitment is to a Pride beach party tomorrow, and I’ve used some of my jury pay to purchase one of those pop-up shade tents, so the plan is to sit in the shade with snacks and beverages and be the Beach Dad.
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DETACHABLE SPIKES! So, spikes can be detached and left magnetize inside one’s partner. This is done for pleasure and to prevent any other mech from fucking their wife. Now, silly scenarios:
1) Drift left his dick in Ratchet before becoming Deadlock, leaving himself without one and cockblocking the entire autobot army from Ratchet’s pussy
2) always Drift leaving his spike in Ratchet to cockblock Rodimus when they fight or had stupid arguments
3) same thing, but it’s Rodimus leaving his dick in there, cause he’s that petty.
4) mech getting drunk and losing their spikes in orgies/getting back the wrong spike
YES, this can tie back on that thing i talked about, with valves chopping off spikes to retain transfluid during heat.
What if in Cybertronian culture, giving your spike to someone is like giving them an engagement ring. Like I want you to be mine, will you let me have your valve 24/7?
And I mean, are you really conjunxed if they won’t plug up your valve to ward off any possible unwanted suitors? Think about it, if their spike is not plugging you up, who knows where they could be putting it!
party ambulance Ratchet didn’t mellow out bc of the war and responsibilities, he was just plugged up and couldn’t get himself fucked up the valve anymore. That’s why he’s so grumpy all the time.
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Morning Glow
For Trafalgar Water D Law, there was perhaps a view that he could get used to. The Polar Tang was calmly making its way through the sea. Close to the surface, just like every morning, so that they could exchange the stale oxygen from the night for a fresh sea breeze via the valves on the main mast. Even though they had an excellent ventilation system that filtered the air in a way that it wasn't actually necessary up to 96 hours, Law still insisted on it.
On one hand, it reduced the spread of diseases via ventilation and at the same time, it improved the crew's morale to see the sparse daylight shimmering in the ocean outside their windows.
Law would never admit it, of course, but even for him it was the perfect way to start the day, sitting alone in his cabin with his coffee cup and watching the sea shimmer and glisten.
And now that a certain swordsman was sharing the bunk with him while traveling from Zhou to Wano, maybe the whole spectacle had taken on a rather picture perfect touch.
Sipping the hot caffeinated brew, Law watched the reflections of the sea dance over marbled muscles. Small shadows were cast and continued to flit across the sea-tanned skin.
He leaned back silently on the couch, savoring the caffeine and the sight of the sleeping strawhat pirate in his bed. Stripped down to his bare skin and breathtakingly hot, piratehunter Roronoa Zoro laid across the mattress on his stomach, his arms crossed over his head, one hand buried in his soft hair and hummed under his breath.
A sign of trust.
Law had learned that the piratehunter only hummed like this when he was truly asleep. And heaven knows he really rarely did, which explained his need for constant naps.
In fact, Law had only known two situations so far.
One: Mugiwara-ya ordered his swordsman to do it.
The first time he had witnessed it was during their journey on Bartholomeo's fucked-up Fanboyship. Mugiwara-ya, usually so high-spirited and always in motion that Law had inwardly labeled him with the diagnosis ADHD, had calmly settled down next to the swordsman and ordered him to rest. The swordsman had snarled in disapproval but made absolutely no effort to resist when his captain had placed his head in his lap.
Law had watched the two of them for about an hour. Mugiwara-ya stayed abnormally quiet and serious on guard, while his swordsman allowed himself to let his guard down and actually sleep.
And two: for a couple of days now, Law could occasionally hear the exact same humming in his bed in the morning while he enjoyed his first cup of coffee of the day.
The first time, the usually vigilant piratehunter had been startled out of his sleep and, heavens, he'd been annoyed. Law had been flattered when he'd revealed that it was usually only around Mugiwara-ya that he was able to trust that someone was keeping track of things while he switched himself off for good.
The mystery that Zoro was now allowing himself this moment of vulnerability around the opposing pirate, passing that responsibility with the fresh smell of coffee for a while, remained a secret between the two of them.
It was perfectly fine with Law. As a captain it was his responsibility to protect the people on his ship anyway.
Besides, it gave him the chance to enjoy this picturesque view.
Of course Law would never tell anyone about this, but Zoro was an extraordinary specimen of the human race. His body was perfect and like something straight out of a medical textbook. Defined and an anatomical blueprint. Every single muscle was well-defined and trained. There was not an ounce of too much fat, allowing the muscles to stand out fine and marbled beneath his skin. When he flexed them, one could literally see them at work.
Fine veins were visible on the skin, making it easier for any doctor to insert injections. The skin was flawless, despite the many large and small but faded scars.
The swordsman's low hum was music to Law's ears. He still wondered how a man could have such an incredibly attractive voice.
The allied pirate fascinated him in more ways than one. The doctor in him loved his anatomy and was dying to dissect him down to the last fiber to figure out how the man had survived injuries that would kill any ordinary human. Ever since Chopper had handed him Zoro's medical file because of the short-term separation, his fingers had been tingling. The little quite adorable elk had warned him specifically about the swordsman as a patient. Although he never really got sick, he was constantly suffering from life-threatening injuries and had no sense when it came to his recovery.
Law hadn't been able to resist using his Room to sneak a closer examination of the documented traumas while Zoro was in a deep slumber. There was hardly a bone in his body without traces of old fractures and many of his organs had scar tissue from internal injuries.
Nevertheless, he was still a perfectly healthy man.
His ability to heal had to be extraordinary. However, Law already experienced that his sense of physical pain was almost non-existent. Which was absolutely incomprehensible when one considered just how ticklish and sensitive the swordsman reacted to being touched.
But apart from the fact that he was a medical wonder whose secret he would love to find out, Law was also fascinated by the man.
Piratehunter Roronoa Zoro was not some emotionless demon, contrary to the myths about him. A predator, no doubt. But one that was quite docile when not provoked.
The swordsman was somehow intelligent, cunning and stupid at the same time. On the surface he gave the impression of four functioning brain cells: Breathing, sleeping, drinking and eating, training and fighting.
Maybe even sex, judging by how needy the pirate could be.
However, on a closer analysis, he was so much more than that.
He was truly masterful at trusting his instincts. And so far, Law had never once experienced them cheating on him. Except maybe when it came to his sense of direction. Which was absolutely catastrophic.
Law chuckled softly into his coffee at the thought of how sensitive the swordsman was about his weakness. But who in the name of the devil got lost on a straight path? And how on earth was it possible not to tease him about that?
The swordsman growled softly, as if he knew exactly what Law was thinking about. The smile on the doctor's lips spread a little wider. Zoro had probably rested enough and would wake up soon. Returned to his vigilance.
And Zoro truly did always keep a watchful eye on the people around him, apparently feeling somehow responsible for their protection. He was just gentler than people gave him credit for.
"Your fucking eyes might just pop out when you keep staring at my backside like that!"
The swordsman's low sleepy growl filled the room, although it was barely more than a whisper. Zoro didn't even start to move, he wasn't really fully awake yet.
"Hmm..." Law grinned into his coffee. "Just admired that bite mark on your ass cheek."
Zoro laughed quietly and clicked his tongue. "Guess the little fucker just wasn't able to control himself last night!"
"Seems like it!" Law admitted and drained his cup. He watched as the swordsman stretched and finally rose. Still sleepy, he stumbled over to Law and reached for the cup in his hand. Law smirked as the man allowed himself a brief pout at the yawning emptiness of the vessel.
Silently, he took the cup labeled Greatest Captain #1 away from him and winked. Two hand gestures and two words later, the empty vessel in his hand was replaced by a cup of fresh hot coffee.
The swordsman grinned with satisfaction and took the cup. "Lucky you. I was about to call you a fucking egotist!" he grumbled into the cup and flopped down on the sofa with Law. Just like any other morning, the surgeon spread his legs without a word and let the swordsman lean back against his chest, enjoying his first sip of caffeine for the day.
"How rude, Zoro-ya! Who the heck said I'd share my beloved mug of coffee with you?" he teased, taking the cup from the pirate again. Zoro just grumbled again, low and vibrating so Law could feel it against his bare chest. It was their little ritual.
The swordsman stole a single sip of coffee and then laid back down to sleep. This time, on top of Law. And this time on guard.
Another small detail of his morning that he could almost get quite used to. However, there was absolutely no question of being given the chance to enjoy it over the long run. They almost arrived at Wano and it was out of question that their ways will part once they took Kaido down.
Law would ask, but he knew that it was absolutely pointless. And he had to admit, at least to himself, that he was a little envious of Mugiwara-ya. Envious that this annoying rubber gnome had found this man and earned his unconditional loyalty and devotion. Even if Law had the audacity to try to steal the swordsman away - and by heavens, if he had the chance, he wouldn't hesitate for a second - all he would gain was a loss, because piratehunter Roronoa Zoro would never pledge himself to anyone other than Monkey D Luffy.
Law grumbled scowling. Who was he fooling? He wasn't envious, he was freaking jealous of Mugiwara-ya. Sure, his crew was also loyal and devoted to him, but Zoro was taking it to a level with his devotion that he would love to have all to himself.
"How can you be in such a bad mood first thing every morning?" the swordsman muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Shut up!" Law replied and reached for his chin. He gently pulled it upwards and placed a kiss on his forehead. Zoro grinned and looked at him.
"Good morning, sunshine!"
Law smiled as the piratehunter took his hand and placed it on his chest. Right over that heart. He felt a small skip in heartbeat. Well, while he might not have this man in his crew, there was something he had that nobody else could possess.
His own heartbeat safely stored in the strong chest of piratehunter Roronoa Zoro, whose beating heart he could sense calm and strong inside himself.
#roronoa zoro#zoro#trafalgar law#trafalgardwaterlaw#zolaw#lawzo#one piece#mugiwarapirates#heart pirates#fanfic#oneshot#one piece art#one piece fanart#polar tang#heartbeat#good morning#picture perfect moment#one piece fanfiction#headcanon#fluff
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Edging
Summary: You've been teasing Rodimus for 2 hours now, he deserves some release.
Pairing: Rodimus/Reader
Fandom: IDW Transformers
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No warnings
Tags: Edging, Overload Denial, Light BDSM Themes, Rodimus goes into Subspace
"B-babe, please, l-let me- please-"
Rodimus begged. He wasn't quite sobbing, but the fluid in his optics let you know that you needed to wrap up the scene soon. You hummed with false sincerity, carefully moving your hips around and causing Rodimus's vents to shudder, the tip of his spike grinding against the entrance of your valve.
"Alright, you've been a good boy- 10 seconds. Go."
The chronometer was set, and Rodimus immediately slammed his hips against yours, frantically thrusting into you with desperation. Biting your lip to keep you moans at bay, you silently counted down, each thrust hitting you right in the ceiling node with a delicious slap. Until...
"Time's up, Roddy."
The whine, Primus, the whine Rodimus emitted as he quickly stopped halfway thrusting was so satisfying. He looked at you with wide, wet, pleading optics. His voice was heavy with static as he began to beg.
"Please, pl-please, just- just 5 more seconds, I'm so-"
"You know the rules. Pull out, tip only."
This time, Rodimus did sob as he slowly, tortuously pulled out till only the tip remained inside. He shuttered his optics close, coolant tears now freely falling. You could smell the faint wisp of smoke that was beginning to emanate from his engine, a clear sign that Rodimus had been played with enough.
“You’re such a good boy, Roddy. Aren’t you?”
“Y-yes, yes, I-I am, I just-”
“And I think you deserve to be… rewarded for your behaviour.”
The near puppy dog pleading optics Rodimus gave you could shatter the strongest of wills, not helping the big, fat tears sliding down his cheek plates. It had taken you two hours to get to this point, a new record.
“Go on, then. Go.”
If not giving him a time limit hadn’t clued him in, you wrapping your legs around his hips told him something clear- he was allowed to finally, finally overload. His face broke into an excited smile, his bright blue optics shining brilliantly.
He clung onto you, holding you close as he cried for joy. Each thrust was short and quick, he didn’t want to draw this out any longer. He had one, singular goal in his processor- overload. Each thrust was accompanied with a metallic clang and wet slapping noise that echoed around the room. You were most definitely going to have to buff out some lovely paint transfers.
“F-fuck! Oh fuck, you feel so good!”
Rodimus groaned out, almost deliriously. His exhaust pipes on his arms were beginning to splutter more smoke, loud revving noises coming from his engine. Your calipers clenched tightly on his spike, drawing out a loud, throaty shout.
“Fuck!”
With a final cry, Rodimus slammed his hips against yours, flames bursting from his exhaust pipes. A whimper leaving his lips as warmth bloomed into your gestational tank. Rodimus all but collapsed on top of you, exventing deeply. Tears streaked down his faceplate, his optics looked dazed, far off. In subspace.
“You were such a good boy, Roddy- so splendid, you did so well.”
You softly cooed into his audials, bringing your servo to his face to gently wipe his tears away. After a scene or any extreme interface session really, Rodimus’ aftercare involved a lot of gentle affirmation, telling him he did wonderful. He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lip. His voice was filled with static again, but softer.
“Y-yeah?”
“You were so good.”
Leaning in, you gave him a kiss on his opticbrow. He looked at you with a distant look, his processor would be barely running and it’d be hard for him to think, to vocalise his thoughts. You knew from experience. His optic brow furrowed, his smile dipping into a small frown.
“You- you didn’t-”
Smiling, you cupped his cheek with your servo gently to stop him from finishing. He blinked, staring at you with dazed optics.
“It’s fine. I wanted to get you off. This was all about you.”
You spoke with a soft voice, comforting, easing his worries. Kissing his cheek softly, you pulled away, gasping at the feeling of Rodimus’ spike being pulled out of you and blushing as his transfluid slowly seeped out.
“Let me look after you, Roddy. You deserve it.”
#transformers fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#transformers valveplug fanfic#valveplug#rodimus/reader#rodimusxreader#rodimus x reader#writing
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OK OK STAYING ANON FOR THIS FOR SURE this request is so cheesy but i need nsfw fluff of idw soundwave since hes so hard to find fanfic of 😩 but anyways, IDW Soundwave making love to femme cybertronian reader after they became Conjunx Endura? (basically Conjunx Endura is IDW transformers version of marriage) I mean more intimate and loving than lustful but it still can be, just more on loving spectrum. Preferably in the spooning position while Soundwave whispers sweet-nothings into her audio processor as he moves in and out of her, knowing that he’s hers and she’s his as he kisses her jawline.
(in the comics, its canon that he has a mouth! i forget the names of the comics but we see him without his maskplate)
anyways i know this request was super cheesy 🧍♀️ but ye, i read your previous fanfic and thought that your writing is just so amazing <3
IDW Soundwave x Femme Cybertronian Reader
I fucking love this
Fluffy and Loving NSFW
Married life ^v^
Reader and Soundwave are conjunx endurae and have been for a few years already.
Readers frame, paint job, height, etc. are unspecified.
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The berth is so comfortable and warm. The soft thermal sheets and pillows. Not to mention the warm frame of your dearest. He is most often in this position, cuddling you from behind. Frame curved perfectly to yours. Your aft pressed perfectly into his hips. He wakes up like this. It is the middle of the night, and as his optics focus, he gets a clear view of the back of your helm. His arm around your waist, his servo caresses your abdomen, feeling the smooth plating before he starts feeling you up. Servo just beneath your chest plate.
His servo moves down to your waist, feeling the curvature of your hips. Within a few seconds, he feels his own plating begin to heat up. He uses his digits to caress you, rubbing and pinching at your hips and tribulen. How has he ended up with such a beautiful conjunx? That's so perfect. It amazes him that you chose him over any other bot. You willingly chose a decepticon over an autobot. He is constantly filled with love from your EM field and your frame. Most of your love sessions are sweet and vanilla. Other times, he's frustrated and uses you. You haven't once told him to stop before. In fact, you've spurred him on, wanting it harder and faster. The last time you did anything with each other, it was short-lived. Thus, he has been pent up for the past couple of solar cycles.
That doesn't mean he wants to just pound you until you're spike drunk. He's actually feeling lazy right now. His spike slowly pressurizes behind his panel. He keeps fondling you and puts his face in the crook of your neck. He watches your face as he pinches at your side with a smile on his face.
"(designation)," He whispers to you before pecking at your cheek, "wake up, my love. I want you." He continues to plant kisses on your neck and jaw and face. Slowly, you release a groan, feeling his servos roaming over your body. His touches are soft and slow tonight while he's gently grinding his hot panel against your aft.
"Mmm," without a second thought, you push yourself back to rub your aft on him, "Yes, please, my spark." You hum seductively. He uses his other arm to prop himself up so he can turn your upper body more towards him so he can see you better. He leans down and kisses you, derma locking together as his servo reaches further down to rub at your panel while you continue grinding on each other. You lift a leg up so he has better access.
His digits skillfully rub at all your sweet spots that make you arch your back. You're still sleepy, but this feels so good. You moan into his intake as your panel hisses and slides away. You choose only to reveal your valve this time. He smirks into the kiss and starts rubbing at your valve lips, and you twitch every so slightly. He rubs your node softly and then returns his attention to your folds. His leg scoots under the one you've been holding up so he can slide down a little to get a better angle. Within seconds, you feel his hot plating against your valve lips, and you arch your back a bit more to try rubbing yourself against him.
Your valve aches and vlenches on nothing while he grinds his panel against you and rubs circles on your node. His digits rub up and down your valve only to return back to your node to rub and pinch it gently. Your transfluid spreads across his closed panel, and he groans at the feeling. He continues kissing your neck and sucking on your cables. Without warning, two digits push themselves inside you, and you moan softly. Still grinding into your aft, he slowly fingers you, thumb rubbing your node as his digits push in and out at a teasing pace. You tilt your head back and to the side and reach your servo to hold him by the hip, urging him to grind harder against you.
He slowly flexes his digits, spreading you open. He pushes his digits deeper and deeper into you, looking for all his favorite spots, a small node there a caliper here. Finally, he finds the little bundle of nodes he's looking for. He rubs it roughly, making you gasp and twitch.
"Oh, please, my spark. Please." You beg. He knows what you want and he decides he'll give it to you because he wants it just as badly. His panel hisses and slides away, his spike bobs out, ready and waiting. Pre leaks from the slit and he uses his servo to press it against your valve so he can tease some more. Grinding his spike in between your folds, coating it in your slick.
"You're so good for me. I love you so much." He praises and pours his spark out to you while slowly pushing his spike into your needy valve. He keeps his servo on your lower abdomen to hold you in place as he slowly thrusts into you. You moan and whine his name over and over again. He keeps a steady pace, going deeper and deeper with every thrust into your tight valve. Your calipers clench onto him tightly, trying to keep him in, and it makes him groan deeply into your audial.
The lewd sounds your valve makes each time he pushes in is music to his audials, mixed with the sounds of your whining drives him crazy. It doesn't matter how pent up he is right now. It won't make him speed up or sit up and hold you down while he takes what he wants. He loves this. This is probably his favorite way to make love to you, slowly unraveling you at your core. Gentle and loving and patient. It's enough to make his spike twitch and throb inside you. He grinds his spike into while planting more kisses on your neck and jaw, kissing and licking and sucking at you while you moan from feeling his spike rub against your tight walls.
"Feels so good. Oh, Soundwave." You moan sweetly. Your EM field releases wave after wave of love. It's warm and fuzzy and makes him do the same, love and adoration coming deep from within his spark to mingle with yours. Nothing in the universe could ever make him feel this way, so loved and wanted, needed. It causes possessiveness to bubble up in him, but he doesn't change pace. Keeping it steady and gentle. With another groan, he starts thrusting into you again. He wants so badly to overload in you, paint your walls pink with his transfluid.
Your calipers squeeze and flutter around him. You're getting close. He holds up your leg for you, servo squeezing onto your tribulen as he chases your overload.
"Mmm, wait." You whine. He stops, wondering what you want or need. Is he going too rough? Does it hurt? "I want to see you." You moan, and your request makes his spike twitch inside you. He pulls out, and without another word, you climb on top of him. Sitting fully on his spike to ride him. You take his servos into yours as you stare deeply into his optics. You lean down and plant your forehead on his as you bounce a bit faster.
He smiles so sweetly at you. "Overload for me." He hums before pecking your derma. With a moan, you overload on him. Calipers clenching down on his spike, squeezing him so tightly and causing him to overload with you. He groans deeply as your valve milks his spike. Pulling rope after rope of transfluid from him. Your chest opens up, revealing your spark and his follows suit. Your sparks reach for each other and merge together. He can hear your voice, strings of "I love you," flood his processor. When you're chests close and you're catching your breath, he kisses your face all over.
There are no words spoken as he lays you back down on your side. He caresses your hip again as he looks into your optics. Your servo reaches up and holds his cheek, and your leg reaches over his hip and rests on him. After a while, your optics are ready to close again, and without a second thought, he gets up to get a towel to clean you up. When he comes back into the room, you're in recharge already. So he carefully cleans you up, taking his time to admire you while you sleep.
His spark is flooded with love for you and from you. He knows how much he means to you and how much you mean to him. He never wants to lose you. And despite what others say about him being a Con, you don't love him any less. In fact, you praise him. He knows his values, and he will always strive for better, and you admire it. He loves you so so much that it hurts sometimes. He just tossed the towel aside and lays down with you, pulling your frame close to his. He's never letting you go, ever.
#transformers#tf#maccadam#macaddam#macadam#cybertronian reader#femme cybertronian reader#femme reader#tf idw#idw tf#idw soundwave#tf soundwave#soundwave x reader#idw Soundwave x reader#valve plug#valveplug
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More silly tf2 headcanons because i know more about them than valve does.
Sniper is practically nocturnal. You wont see him all day but you will find him sitting on the couch in base with snacks and a movie going like it 3am , no shoes or shirt despite it being February and his camper being parked like a mile.away acting like its totally normal. Will literally nap anywhere during the after noon dont be surprised if one day you find him hanging upside down like a vampire.
Speaking of which this mans goes everywhere shirtless and shoeless . gas station ? Shirtless and shoe less . walmart ? Shirtless and shoeless .middle of winter ? Maybe he's got socks on. They have to yell at him to get dressed or atleast put on sunscreen so he doesn't get crustier than he already is.
Pyro's really good at open flame cooking , bonfire grill gas stove flambae torch they can make anything as long as it requires fire. Also pyros mexican and atleast half of their "strange noises" are just them mumbling to themselves in spanish.
Heavy likes cozy stuff , he's struggled enough if he wants hot cocoa and a knitted blanket he can have hot cocoa and a knitted blanket. Owns the fuzziest pair of bear slippers known to man. Also i feel like he's a salmon guy idk maybe he rlly is just a bear but guy.
Saxton hale likes men.
Scout if so painfully straight. And i dont mean straight as in sexuality i mean straight as in pure fucking aura. Ms pauling comes out as a lesbian and he says "oh shit i like girls too we should date" sees heavy and medic kiss and his brain doesn't acknowledge it. This is true even is scout likes dudes he's the 1970's equivalent of those guys nowadays who wear nothing but nike and use the word gyat unironically and im tired of pretending like he isn't.
Ms pauling wants to be a merc so bad she thinks that its so cool but her mom told her murders for boys so she's just the administrators assistant/hj
Demoman has the most curly , bouncy , volumous gorgeous hair under than beanie. He keeps it in cornrows most of the time but when he does wear his hair out its a sight to behold.
Engineer makes the corniest , most dad like jokes known to man , its literally horrible they all groan so loud whenever he does but he thinks its hilarious.
Sniper , scout , pyro and soldier are all sour gummy worm addicts to the point that their stash takes up and entire shelf in the base pantry. Go through a costco bag a week.
The local costco dreads their presence , engineer and sniper and in the outdoors section, medics necromancing the chickens , pyros was the one roasting those chickens before they got necromanced, they managed to lose heavy somehow , scout managed to convince spy to get into a toilet paper fort they made and now their introuble with management, soldiers ordering a forth of july cake despite it being october and demomans buying premade meal kits for dinner for him.and his mom over the week. Pyro saved him a necromanced rotisserie chicken. And yes sniper still isn't wearing a shirt or shoes they've given up.
Spy had eyebags and grey hair , misses when was young and spry , is a little jealous of medic managing to have a full head of dark hair.
Medics ethnically jewish. He gets his black market organs kosher .
And finally out of all the mercs soldier goes to.medic the most for actual injuries , scout goes the most for.minors , engineers got the most perscriptions including hearing aids and stuff for pyro he picks up , sniper never goes to the doctor and medic has to drag him in . spies the worse when it comes to appointments (doesn't like any part of him being seen and despit having spy training still doesn't like.needles) and medic favorite patient is heavy for obvious reasons
#tf2#tf2 engineer#scout tf2#spy tf2#demoman tf2#tf2 scout#engineer tf2#heavy tf2#medic tf2#pyro tf2#sniper tf2#tf2 headcanons#headcanon#lake's rambles
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Kinktober: Day 5
Prompt: Fingering
TFP Breakdown x gn afab reader
Warnings: Fingering, cunnilingus, slight overstimulation, masturbation.
Word count: 621
“Just look at ya, all ready for me,” Breakdown chuckles darkly before climbing onto the berth, “You couldn’t even wait until I got back.”
You whine from the berth; thighs spread as far as they can. The evidence of your impatience coated your fingers and dripped from your cunt onto the sheets below, sweat beaded on your forehead from your efforts to try and cum. You were so worked up from being alone all day while Breakdown went on assignment you couldn’t help but try to relieve yourself, but no amount of imagination and fingers can equate to the feeling of your lover pounding his metallic cock into you.
Breakdown gives you a smug grin before grasping your overworked hand, bringing it up into his intake and proceeds to wrap his dermas around it, licking and sucking up all of your juices. He removes them with one drawn-out lick from his glossa, “Mmmm, you haven’t overloaded yet. I guess I can help ya out.”
“P-Please…” You moan softly, which Breakdown chuckles at. But he doesn’t flip you over and push your head face down like he usually does. Instead, he lays down near your spread legs, servos resting on your inner thighs.
“Don’t worry, sweet spark. I’ll pound your pretty valve soon,” He coos, bringing a digit up to circle your clit softly, “I’m sure you can keep being patient for me, yeah?”
“Mhmm,” You nod, desperate for any kind of orgasm at this point.
Breakdown hums, kissing the inside of your thigh as he works his cold digit up and down your folds, “You like that?” He teases, moving back up to your clit to rub slow circles around it, making your hips jump, “I bet you’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day, huh?”
Your breath hitches as he builds up pressure and speed, back arching as he brings you to the edge of orgasm. You can feel his hot breath against your heat before he glides his digit down to press into your wet hole and latches his lips around your clit at the same time.
“Oh, fuck, Breakdown!” You throw your head back as he curls his digit against your g-spot, slowly yet steadily rhythmic. It’s not as thick as his spike, but even with his digit, he fills you completely.
“Frag, you’re tight,” Breakdown rumbles against your sensitive clit, glossa flicking against it as he adjusts his wrists to achieve a better angle against your fluttering walls, “Can’t wait ‘til I’m inside you.”
The wet slapping noises from the thrusting of his servo to the sound of him lapping at your clit, it’s all sinful and bringing you closer to the edge.
“Oh my god, I’m gonna-“ You slap a hand over your mouth as your hips gain a mind of their own, grinding against his glossa and the digit now pounding into you with reckless abandon.
“Gonna overload?” Breakdown groans, his hips grinding against the berth, “C’mon, you deserve this.”
With tears in your eyes and teeth biting the cheek of your hand, you squeal as Breakdown curls against your g-spot and sucks on your clit with so much force that you almost go blind. You arch your back as he slows down to a snail's pace, limbs jerking and thighs shaking.
Breakdown laughs teasingly, removing his digit to watch your cum dribble onto the berth. He kisses your abused hole before sitting up and pulling your hips closer to his. His spike is already exposed, and it's the most enticing thing you’ve seen all day; you can’t help but whine at the throbbing sight.
Breakdown easily flips you over, propping your legs up and pushing your head against your pillow, “You up for round two?”
#tfp#tfp x reader#tfp breakdown#tfp breakdown x reader#valveplug#cyberrose kinktober 2023#kinktober 2023#cyberrosewrites
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GUN has really shot themselves in the foot with TCM recently. I'm going to rant beneath the cut, feel free to let me know your thoughts too.
I main family (Johnny, Cook, Nubbins, or Leatherface if our team needs it) with my husband and we absolutely hate going against 4 man squads. They bully the shit out of the family and then act like they won the Olympics as they t-bag at the exits until we come to watch their asses grind the dirt.
If they get the valve on, someone has to camp it the rest of the game. Often, two people have to guard it in case two victims team up to chain backstab the poor guy.
Now that they've hidden groups and levels, I feel really ambivalent about playing family anymore. I used to enjoy playing with lower level victims and giving them a fun game, letting them get away, and generally ensuring they aren't turned off from the game. Or playing against non-teamed high levels for a fun challenge. Now I have to treat every game like I'm going against the aforementioned t-bagging Olympic athlete Navy seal 4-man team and it isn't fun for me to try hard every goddamn game. But if I don't, and they do turn out to be a 4 man squad of level 80+, then I've fucked myself going easy on them. And you can be assured they will act high and mighty about beating me.
But it isn't even just four man squads. Let's face it—Texas Chainsaw maps are puzzles and most victims have them figured out. Now the entire game is patrolling doors and if you somehow miss them on your patrol they're out and you're fucked. You can't re-lock doors. You can't guard almost opened doors like you can generators in Dead by Daylight until they regress. And dont even think about going into the basement as anyone other than Sissy and Nubbins because they'll disappear into any one of the cracks never to be seen again and while you're fruitlessly chasing them, Connie has blown a lock and escaped.
And now they're nerfing Cook's ear stacking even though while he's stacking it he's literally standing still AND you can counter it by 1. Stopping running or 2. Clear all stacks by going into a freezer/dresser.
It takes minimum TWENTY MINUTES to find a match now, even if one of us plays Leatherface. And even though there's 1 family player per 50 victim players, the victims still treat us like they're hot shit and we're piñatas there to be beaten up for their entertainment. And that's not even to say we're bad, we're actually quite good at family. But when we do win, victims have some shit to say.
Not all victims are shitheads but so many of them are and I'm sure you non-shithead victim players have had to listen to your teammates rant at the family in the end game lobby.
And GUN is not making anything better. They could, idk, make it so only ONE fuse and ONE valve spawn on the map so at least the victims have to look a little bit longer. They could give the family a fucking mini map so we have knowledge of our own property. They could give us shirtless Johnny all-fucking-ready.
But no, we must instead suffer not knowing what sort of victims we're going against and completely annihilating newer players just in case they do turn out to be those four man 99 squads we so dread. As 2 players with a random, we just can't coordinate well enough to properly face off against a 4 man. They should make lobbies for full squads to go against full squads so solo q and duos dont have to be shit on, on either side.
Idk man. I love Texas Chainsaw. I have almost 300 hours in it. And I still have a MASSIVE crush on Johnny Slaughter. But... I think I'm going to quit. I'll come back and play for a week when new maps come out so we can all enjoy the freshness of no one knowing what's going on, but the moment that map is solved, I'm not gonna deal with it. Playing family is hell, most of the time I feel like the victim.
#johnny slaughter#johnny sawyer#texas chainsaw massacre game#tcm game#tcm#texas chainsaw game#texas chainsaw massacre#dead by deadlight#dbd
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A Mechanic’s Manipulation - Yandere Draken x Reader
TW: possessive themes. Word count: 982
“Where the fuck are they going now?”
Over the past 3 days, the little red dot representing your car has traveled all across town, much to Draken’s dismay. A typically rather unbothered man, he hates when he gets like this. No, scratch that. He hates when you make him like this.
Well, it can’t be helped, for now. If you insist on being a pain, you can deal with the consequences. It’s better than him dealing with the excruciating pain he feels every time you leave with someone other than him without so much as a care. All he asks, without actually asking of course, is a simple check in to let him know where you are headed, with who, and why. It’s the least you could do if you honestly loved him half as much as he does you, right?
Thanking every God in the heavens he can that he had the foresight to know you would force his hand like this, he tries to calm down. He took counter-measures for this sort of thing at your last oil change 3 weeks ago. The GPS is only the first tool at his disposal. It has proven quite handy thus far but now it’s time for his trump card to shine.
“Hurry up and make it to a side street. Fuck, how long does it take you to make a turn? This is why I always drive when it’s the two of us,” his impatience fuels his agitation. However, that only lasts as long as it takes the red dot to travel through its current stoplight and into the nearest neighborhood. “There, this spot should do fine.”
One click of the mouse on his auto shop’s computer has him scoffing to himself, proud of how he’s sure to win this battle. You will probably have a bad day, but you did it to yourself. Traveling out of his boundaries, testing perimeters he doesn’t approve of — Whether you knew to ask or not is not of his concern. If you cared the way you should, the way you will one day, the way he’s going to make you, then you wouldn’t even have to think twice. Any second now..
His phone rings almost on command, your name bright across the display. A knowing chuckle leaves his chest as he answers, ready to play the knight in shining armor. All he needs is for you to beg a little. And beg you do, so pretty for him.
“What do you mean the car just shut off? Did you have any warning signs? Are you didn’t hear a noise or anything? That’s strange. Yeah, sure, I can be there in 15.”
Despite his anger with you, he keeps true to his word, leaving you none-the-wiser. As suspected from your Snap Story, you were with an unknown man, a lesser one than himself he quickly notes. Immediately popping the hood, he greets you with that same flirty smile that has you in this situation in the first place. It’s both cruel and humorous how you have the nerve to claim he has the most beautiful smile you have ever seen, yet you still refuse to be called his. No worries, he constantly reminds himself, because his smile is nothing compared to his determination. If he wants something bad enough, and boy it is quite the understatement to say he wants you, he will do whatever takes it to manipulate you into his arms. Like so.
Tinkering around with his wrench and a few bolts under the hood, he twists a valve to release a bit of steam with a dramatic hiss. It’s completely ordinary for that to happen, but he knows you don’t know any better. Your car has always been looked after by him so he knows it in and out. The only problem with it today is that he got pissed off and triggered the automatic shut off he installed last month. Greedy dealerships aren’t the only geniuses that can make use of that nifty mechanism.
“I need to get this back to the shop for diagnostics. I brought the hitch so we don’t need to call in a tow, but I can only fit the two of us in my truck with my tools. You didn’t tell me you had someone with you,” he looks to the eyesore on your left, “You don’t mind catching a lift from someone so we can take care of this right?” His smile fools you every time, telling you he only intends to help. His eyes make sure to do all the talking to your accomplice that is noticeably smarter, yet inadequate to do anything about it under Draken’s size and the false hero veil you allow him to so easily wear and abuse. Luckily for all of you right now, your friend, Draken’s self-declared competition, took the hint and says his farewell. Draken can't help but rumble out a low laugh at the way he sulks away, pulling out his phone to call for a ride as he disappears in the opposite direction. “Talk about a walk of shame,” he mumbles too low for you to hear.
The ride back to the shop is full of chatter, with Draken using the opportunity to pry into your personal life. As planned, he learns what you were doing, who the male you had with you is, and that he needs to make sure he pays him a visit to guarantee he stays far away from you. And as planned, you fall further and further into Draken’s carefully weaved web. Promises of a proper date and confessions of regret about not doing it sooner are what you graciously gift to him as a genuine thank you to your savior. Just like he expected, a little force and manipulation is all he needs to keep you right where he wants you.
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Not reader with Rodimus? Some body worship please 🙏🙏
//rodimus would choose death by thigh crushing 100%//
Being a regular maintenance bot has it's perks. Most people don't bother you when you're at work. Or at all, in fact. You blend in to the rest of the crew for the most part. It's especially handy when you're working on something so important. Your servos are deep in the bridge's internals, carefully avoiding elements that still flicker with energy, when someone presses tight to your back and makes you jump. Your digits just barely brush the powered-down battery, but it still gives off enough charge to shock you.
Most people don't bother you when you're at work.
"Captain, do you need anything?" You can tell Rodimus is grinning by the way he presses his face to your neck cables, his arms around your waist unyielding even as he bears the weight of his frame against your back. If he thinks you're just going to hold him up, instead of crumple to the floor like dead weight, he has another thing coming.
"It's lunchtime, you know?" It takes a second for his words to register, checking your internal chronometer, but, lo and behold, he's right. You glance around to see the bridge... deserted. Empty for everyone besides you. Not that this sort of behavior is unusual from you. Oftentimes you'll get off work starving and wondering why, only to realize you had worked eight hours without break. Working on the Lost Light, where you can get absorbed without someone even checking on you, has only seemed to make this habit worse.
"Just stay like this. Captain's order." He pats the sides of your waist with both servos before he pulls away. You almost whip around to ask what he's doing when you hear metal hit the floor. When his servos return to the back of your thighs, you have to keep from kicking backwards like a startled Cybertronian horse. You're still so new to the crew, to being in Rodimus' close inner circle, it's hard to tell what's actually a Captain's order and what's just him fucking with you.
When his glossa meets your modesty panel, you know he's just fucking with you. Your thighs twitch apart in his hold, leaning further on the very expensive computer in front of you. This is such a bad idea, but when Rodimus trails wet, open-mouth kisses down your inner thigh it's hard to care. It's not like you and Rodimus haven't gotten up to things you shouldn't in your short-time on the Lost Light, but right where Megatron or, Primus forbid, Ultra Magnus could walk in and see you? The thought is almost shameful and nauseating enough for you to bounce away from Rodimus.
"I've been thinking about you all day," Your Captain's words are muffled where he still lavishes your thighs in kisses, trailing from the seam of your knee back up to your modesty panel. He carefully catches the lubricant you’re leaking, lapping it up before digging the tip of his glossa into the junction where your modesty panel slides back. Such careful teasing has it folding away without any internal prompting, "I really wanted you to ride my glossa, but this'll have to do for now."
Rodimus places delicate kisses from your node to the lips of your valve, glossa laying down gentle swipes before he truly delves in. You release an invent you hadn't realized you were holding, so caught up in focusing on every soft sensation. You know Rodimus can be more enthusiastic, more energetic, he's just teasing you. When his glossa finally pushes past the lips of your valve, you sigh out a low moan, moving back against his mouth. Rodimus meets you with fervor, his glossa fucking you into a fast approaching overload.
With the time ticking down, you're tempted to check your chronometer again. Just to make sure. But Rodimus' glossa teases your calipers, swipes over nodes that even you haven't touched in... So long. When was the last time you got an overload that wasn't via Rodimus? You should really remember to thank your Captain for his hard work. For coming to make sure you at least took what was supposed to be your lunchbreak.
#txt#asks#smut#valveplug#transformers#reader insert#reader imagine#transformers idw#tf idw#transformers mtmte#tf mtmte#rodimus#rodimus prime#tf rodimus#tf rodimus prime#idw rodimus#mtmte rodimus#idw rodimus prime#mtmte rodimus prime
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All the things you said | part two
Summary: A big dinner is organized by Charles to bring together some pilots and their wives, girlfriends, sister and friends. Everyone enjoys the evening until a topic of conversation leads to dark revelations. What secrets will be revealed?
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!
I'm open to requests.
Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
Thank you, and Enjoy! :)
Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover
WARNING: mention of physical and verbal aggression! Su*c*de WARNING !R@PE!
If you are struggling with this. Please get help. You are loved, and your life is valued. Even if you don’t see it, you are loved.
DISCLAIMER: This story is fiction and has no correlation with reality. All site names making acts, violence or any other type of aggression are used for artistic purposes, and they did not commit those acts.
“I tried, but... nobody listened to me.” You respond by looking at Lando through your tears.
Your eyes pierce that of Lando. A rage invades the spirit of Charles seeing your sights set on the British.
“You knew.” He accuses Lando turning abruptly towards him.
“I... I.” He tries to defend himself. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“Oh, you think she knew what to do either.” He yells, getting up from his chair and grabbing him by the collar.
“Charles, let him go!” Orders Carlos.
“You let her suffer silently when you knew what he did to her. I thought you were better than this. T’es qu’une grosse merde.”
“Oh please, like you would have done something? We all know he’s untouchable and has done it before.” Admitted Lando, pushing Charles away.
“What?” Sebastian speaks up.
“Nothing.”
“It’s nothing? He raped her, and now other girls too?” Charles advances again, preventing him from fleeing the situation.
“Don't play fouls, Charles. You were in his hotel room at the party in Abu Dhabi last year, and I quite remember your hands on some teenage girls, groping them.” He said suddenly, pushing Charles out of his way again.
“What?” You speak up, troubled by Lando's affirmation.
“It’s not what it looks like.” Charles tries, taking your hands in his.
“Don’t touch me.” You say, pushing him away. “Did you do it?”
“I... It’s not important.”
“Yes. It actually is. Did you fuck those teenage girls?”
“Oui,” he admits in a small voice. “I didn’t want to.”
“You didn’t want to fuck those girls? What the fuck, Charles. What's wrong with you all?” You yell, taking your stuff and leaving as fast as possible.
The thought of all this happening to so many more makes you sick. How could nobody speak up about this? The elevator arrives, and you get in. You can hear footsteps and Charles's voice telling you to come back. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you look at him as the door closes.
You take the first taxi and give him your address. All you want right now is a shower. A warm and reassuring shower. To pull away all those memories and thoughts. You want to scream to the world. You want to smash your entire apartment down. You want to stay in bed for the rest of your life. You want to jump off the roof. You want to cut yourself so that the pain stops.
You arrive at the complex. Your dark thought runs in circles in your head. Like a robot, you open the complex door, press the elevator, and finally unlock your apartment. You let your essentials fall on the ground with your bag and coat. Like a machine, you take your shoes off and open the lights.
The sight of your home, which does not feel like home anymore. Since Lance pushes himself into you while you try to make him go away, this place hasn’t felt like home. You can’t even sleep in your own bed anymore. No matter how many times you clean the sheets, change the bed. This memory comes running back into your mind. Invade you like a parasite.
You go to the bathroom and open the valve to fill the bathtub. You watch the water. You can hear your phone blowing up with notifications and calls. “Why this world has to be this cruel?” You think, taking your clothes off.
Your body envelops itself in the heat of the water, and you close your eyes. Your body slips in the bath. You head underwater. You hear focusing on your heart bit. You enjoy this moment of quietness and solitude.
That’s it. You feel alone since that night he took your joy, your life, yourself.
You can feel the water pressure you to gasp for air. Your head starts popping your blood. Your heart rises to find oxygen. You struggle. You have been struggling this long. You want to go, and you want to let go.
You let the water go in, and suddenly, all the scary parts disappear. The explosion in your head fades away, and you’re not scared anymore. You find it relatively peaceful. Very peaceful.
To continue...
Tag list: @tyna-19
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#lando norris#lando norris x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1#lance stroll#lance stroll x reader#angst#warning
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