#the people on this tread FUCKING RULE

[kimjunnoodle]

love looking up a strange behaviors i do and coming across a thread of people from 12 years ago all shocked to find out they aren’t alone

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

your perception of itafushi. my beloved. my favorite little barbie dolls that gege loves to wind up. i miss them.

like the idea of yuuji being so jealous over megumi? the sunshine himbo…losing it at the sight of megumi smiling at this perfect little asshole who is totally hiding under an anxious mess facade. there’s no way someone could have it all and their this good guy. yuuji is waiting for the day yuuta messes up i just know it.

even with yuuji finally understands their dynamic i just know that those two have subtle competitions over megumi attention. like…it gets to the point where throwing cars at each other is the norm. (cue nanami being horrified at his legal and emotional children throwing cars at each other over a child of gojo. like yes he adores megumi. but somehow this is all gojo fault. don’t ask nanami how.)

BUT THE IDEA OF THE ZENINS BEING SO YUUJIPHOBIC? like the idea of them shuddering at the idea of megumi fucking around with the vessel of sukuna? that they had to set a bounty on him just to keep him away from their precious runaway heir? i just know mai pops out to the school just to bitch about megumi and his boyfriend being like modern day romeo and juliet.

i also love to imagine sukuna being a firm zenin hater. like he’s not even willing to eat them. he firmly believes that all of them taste like shit. especially naoya.

See I just love the idea of Yuuji being jealous over Megumi but exclusively when it comes to Okkotsu Yuuta. He’s legitimately not a jealous person. He’s never been jealous of anyone before in his life. He’s deeply secure in what he has with Megumi and knows that Megumi likes him back and that there’s no need to be worried or upset about Megumi having close relationships with other people. He wants Megumi to have close relationships outside of him.

But the universe fucking bends to give that perfect beautiful bastard everything Yuuji has ever dreamed of.

It’s a new experience for yuuji. He’s not used to experiencing jealousy. He’s literally never done it before. But there’s this impossibly gorgeous and perfect man swanning around out there getting his death sentence overturned and having his curse royalty unattach from his body in sparkling globes of light and having Nanamin legally adopt him as his actual child and having Megumi be His Boy and apparently it’s universally acknowledged* that Megumi is still Yuuta’s Boy despite Yuuji going to Herculean efforts to lock that shit down. He has assassins trying to kill him because it’s universally agreed** that his boyfriend is out of his league, apparently, and his boyfriend is still someone else’s Boy.

It does not help that when the Assassin Problem first appears yuuji wants to go to Gojo and Megumi decides he cannot take that level of humiliation and suggests going to Yuuta first. Which makes Yuuji insist that no no, he can handle a few assassins. No need to bother any impossibly beautiful upperclassman about it who are apparently better than Yuuji in every way. He’s got this on his own. Nooo problem.

Megumi stares at him for three unbroken seconds and goes to ask Yuuta for advice about it, which results in the second years going off to unilaterally threaten the Zenin clan, which none of the first years ever find out about.

Sukuna absolutely does hate the Zenin clan and it’s specifically because they did not consider him when putting a bounty on yuujis head. He’s a firm believer in knowing your worth and he knows his fucking worth. Sorcerers used to have style. They used to have respect. What the fuck is this. The Zenin are not worth dog shit on his heel. He’ll kill them all.

*universally acknowledged by everyone except Megumi, who still does not know that people call him that

** universally agreed by everyone except Todo, who thinks his brother is a beautiful beautiful man that anyone would be lucky to court and that Fushiguro is a boring child with a nonexistent ass who has inexplicably bewitched a gorgeous specimen of manhood.

[ddejavvu]

Hey Mei 🫶

Here’s my idea - BAU!wife who yells at Hotch when he yells at their team members because she’s a protective momma bear. And hotch secretly loves it because his wife yelling gets him all hot and bothered.

Love you 🫶 and your writing thank you 🧡

Perhaps it's an unwise idea to pick a fight with your surly husband, especially because he doubles as your surly boss. But Spencer hadn't even been that late, and you know he only walked in late because he takes public transportation, and he couldn't control that the bus was late. And, Aaron's only in such a sour mood because Jack had given him typical teenage attitude before school this morning. So really, Spencer didn't deserve the near-shouted lecture he'd gotten.

You march over to the young doctor's desk, happy that his aversion to touch applies to people he's not familiar with. He leans into your stomach when you pull his head to rest on it, albeit stiffly, and you call after your husband with narrowed, fierce eyes.

"Aaron, come back here right now and apologize." You demand, and the already icy mood in the office shifts a few degrees colder. Aaron stops on the stairs and by the tightness of his shoulders he's composing himself, then he turns on his heel and raises a thick brow at you.

"What?"

"He didn't deserve that," You scold him, keeping Spencer's head cradled to your stomach as you stroke down his back, "He's a baby."

Aaron rolls his eyes, "He is not a baby, Y/N. He's a grown man with a government job, and I expect him to show up to it on time."

"He does! He's early every single other day," You remind him, "But the bus came late today! How was he supposed to get here? Uber? You know he doesn't know how to download new apps! Let alone link his bank account to pay the guy. He was seven minutes late, for fuck's sake, just leave him alone!"

Aaron looks like he wants to snap. You've gnashed your teeth at him, and he's lived the life of a fighting dog thus far, so you know you're treading in dangerous waters. But after a rather intense stare down in which you feel Spencer's face heating up through the fabric of your shirt, your husband swallows his pride and mutters, "I expect you in my office within five minutes, Y/N."

Spencer mumbles some feeble protest on your behalf but you pat his back to shush him, letting go so that he can straighten up again.

"Don't worry," You send him a warm smile, "I can handle him. Call me if you ever need a ride again, okay? We can come pick you up."

"Okay." He nods, but it's most likely only to deter you from pampering him with any more motherly affection, as he looks like he's going to wilt from it, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Anytime," You squeeze his shoulder, passing your concerned teammates unbothered smiles as you make your way to Aaron's office.

He's only recently sat down when you arrive, but you notice that he's conveniently sitting so that the desk blocks your view of his lower half. You stand at attention in front of his desk, playing coy like you don't know what's coming next.

"Do you enjoy questioning my authority in front of my team?" He asks you, voice carefully even and tight.

"I enjoy doing anything that makes your dick twitch, Aaron." You announce, your tone deceptively casual for the filth you're spewing, "Did you haul me in here to fuck me over the desk? The blinds are still open, don't you think that's a little distasteful?"

Your attitude only makes him more uncomfortably aroused, and he regrets getting his suits tailored so precisely, as his pants have little give. He leans forwards across his desk, dark eyes boring into yours.

"No. I hauled you in here to tell you that I'm going to fuck you over the desk. But not yet. You're asking for it now, so I'm not giving it to you. Maybe if you'd been a little more polite, I'd have given you what you wanted. But now you're going to wait, because you decided to bicker with me over the rules of this office. Rules that I set, because I am in charge of keeping this team on track."

The harsh tone of his voice makes your stomach twist, and you're feeling your heartbeat in two places. You stand there, saliva slowly accumulating on your tongue, until he raises a brow at you, unimpressed.

"Don't do that again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." You lay on the formality hot and heavy, practically purring it and watching as he shifts slightly in his seat, "I'll be waiting, whenever you decide you can't take it anymore."

"Careful." He snaps, eyes ablaze at your implication that he'll be the one to break, "Don't dig yourself any deeper. Dismissed."

You turn to leave with a satisfied smirk on your face, and perhaps you exaggerate bending over to pick up a stray paperclip that you notice on the floor by his door.

"Here," You pad back across the room to hand it to him, not missing the way that he's tense all over, "See you in twenty, Hotchner."

[writtenbynath]

How not to be an abusive kinky hypnotist

CW: examples of abuse and rape

Inspired by something I saw on Fetlife, I decided to write a list of common consent violations in our kinky subculture. These guidelines are not hard and fast rules, but following them might decrease the chances you accidentally abuse or assault someone as a hypnotist.

Don't rape people. I'm fucking serious. Don't insert any part of your body into any of their orifices without their explicit consent. Not even your fingers. Don't remove the condom without their consent. That's rape!

Just check in with them. If at any time during the scene you're not sure if they're still having a good time, if they look uncomfortable, if you're not sure what that facial expression or that silence means, just ask them how they're doing. Hypnotised people can let you know how they're doing, all you have to do is ask.

Negotiate before the scene, not during the scene. Even if you wake them up from trance, they might be altered enough to have a lapse in judgement.

If you're not sure whether you should proceed, it's always safer to stop the scene than to continue.

If your trance partner tells you "no sexual stuff", you need to ask them what that means. To many people, a fully clothed, no touch orgasm is still "sexual stuff". An imagined scene in trance can be terribly sexual, even if you don't actually touch your fully clothed partner. Don't assume what their words mean, always ask them to elaborate. And don't assume that everyone likes orgasms!

Don't give them any triggers or suggestions that outlast your scene without their explicit consent. It's especially not ok to suggest to them to contact you or have another scene with you. Don't fucking trance them to make them play with you again. NOT OK!

If you're trancing someone for the first time, make it more about practice or getting to know each other's limits, and less about sexy play, especially if they've never done kinky hypnosis before.

If you're trancing someone for the first time, do it at an event where such a scene is appropriate

If they are much younger than you, new to the scene and/or if they went to a workshop or class your taught, there is a power differential in your interaction with them. You have more experience and/or authority than they do and this makes it harder for them to set boundaries or say no to you. The safest way to not cross their boundaries is to decline to trance them. If you do decide to proceed, tread very carefully. Check in often. Err on the side of caution.

If someone tells you, you have crossed one of their boundaries, believe them, and have a serious talk. Don't belittle their experience or say your intention wasn't to harm. Accept you did harm, and listen to what the person you harmed needs to heal. And then do those things, even if they are not fun for you (like: not go to certain parties for a while)

Many of these points were inspired consent violations that have actually happened in the hypnokink community. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.

[baby-jaguar]

Lust by Nature {Part 2}

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 3

Read on ao3

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader

Warnings for this chapter: None

Word Count: 4,460

Summary: Snooping and being caught twice, Sparring with the boys when an unruly hit makes them see more than they expected, and a heated moment in the training grounds.

A/N: Chapter 2! We are slowly laying our good graces down brick by brick, and seeing a bit more from Price as you integrate into the team.

Being on the task force led you to believe Ghost, Gaz, and Soap, were an odd bunch, but they made it work. You kept quiet those first two weeks, having only followed Price around like a duckling until directed otherwise. Being respectful and keeping answers short. Staying in line with your designated work.

By the end of the first month, after you had earned your new name, you started getting comfortable. Seeming like a brass stick was shoved up your ass previously, the sergeants tread lightly around you, much to their dismay, to find out what you’re like but couldn’t disobey Price’s warning glare. 

Gaz was a sweet man, charming, and you could see that a good percent of the time he easily got his way. Soap was loud, and funny when he pleased, but he was a smart man who could easily be dangerous. Ghost was the type of person to respect your space if you respected his. Being more to himself in tasks or duties, he was actually more boisterous than when you initially met. 

As you integrated into the base, there had been quite a bit of preparation for your arrival. Being the fat paycheck that you are, the base had allocated a small wing of a barracks level to TF141. Whispers that the men got stipends just to be on a team with you had floated around. 

Good for them. 

There was a preemptive rule placed on you, designated by Price, of course. You were allowed to join the mess hall for meals during morning and lunch, but when supper time came you were stationed in the common room. 

The rule to stay in the common room wasn’t necessarily bad, and it made sense; Placed to keep you away from the rowdy soldiers looking for a way to warm their beds for the night. Keep your allure hidden and gate kept by the team, adding a brighter glare of the enigma they were. 

What didn’t make sense was how stupidly high the cabinets were in this place. 

“Living with Bigfoot couldn’t even be this hard.” Grunting, your fingertips only skim the edge of the glass as it leans before settling again. Huffing, finding no one around, you jump up to place your knees on the counter to stand on them while being able to finally peer into the top shelf. 

The cup was immediately in your hand but a tall box in the back keeps you from getting down. A stash box?

Curiosity peaks your eyebrows, placing the cup down before trying to reach for the mystery; Towards the back with paper plates and random birthday napkins kept for celebrations block its way. You can’t reach it just yet, so you take it upon yourself to stand on the counter, now having enough height to dig your arm into the cabinet. 

“Are these drugs?” It’s mat black with a worn-down print of fern trees over a forest floor. It's heavy and shaking giving no noise. 

“The fuck are you doing up there?” 

You don’t even have a moment to startle before the tight grasp of hands on your hips makes themselves known. Now almost pissing yourself, a squeak leaves you before clasping the box to your chest. 

It’s almost as if you’re a toddler, being pulled down from your place on the counter while your knees buckle before planting your feet on the ground. When looking up, you’re met with a skull mask. 

“Uhm… getting a glass.” Answering Ghost with nonchalance, offering up the box in your hand. “Then I found this.”

Incredulous brown eyes shift down for a moment, then move his hands from your hips to snatch the damn thing away. 

“Anyone ever tell you not to snoop through people’s things?” As if Bigfoot himself, he reaches up to place it back in the original spot, no effort needed. 

“Hey- What was in that?” You’re sandwiched between the counter and his body, reaching to grab his wrist in an effort of bringing it back down.

“None ya’.” Such an eloquent answer from a British brute. 

“This is open territory, I have a right to know.” Beautiful comeback on your part. 

At your insistent pawing, his free hand wraps around your wrist before securing it with the other. “You’re too small to even take it from me, Saint.” Ghost’s hips press to your lower back as he attempts to close the cabinet. “So knock it off.”

“Too small to take what, Lieutenant?”

Both you and Ghost freeze to look up into the blue eyes of Price standing in the entrance. Leaning against the wall with arms crossed, it doesn’t take a genius to see his chest is puffed out in addition to the glare on his face.

The body pressed to your back suddenly shoves you away and into the counter before stepping away. 

“She was tryna’ get into the box. Top shelf.” Turning to watch the interaction, Ghost gives a nod toward the cabinets and it's enough to soothe Price’s glare. Yet his chest is still puffed out.

Huh. Jealousy is a good look on him.

“And maybe something else.” Testing and taunting him after recovering from the shove, you take a seat on the counter. “But seriously, what's in the box?”

Price’s jaw sets at your little comment, taking slow steps towards you while giving Ghost enough side eye to send him to the couch a few feet away.

“A bottle, not to be touched. Simple as that.” Price’s presence comes to stand in front of you, eyes narrowed while glancing over you. “That satisfy your curiosity?”

“Somewhat. Just makes me wonder why I can’t see it.”

The smooth uptick of his mustache shows as he licks his teeth, settling on giving a nod before approaching. As if deja vu, Price moves to trap you on the counter making room for himself between your legs.

“Keep your head still.” The deep rumble makes you want to squeeze his hips with your thighs, but refrain as his hand holds the back of your head to tilt it down. With the cabinet opening behind you, he reaches up and leans forward to grasp the box.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t take this moment to rest your head on his chest, letting his scent and warmth feel much more than what the moment was.

“A gift from some friends. It’s empty, but kept as a reminder of them.” Taking a look at the bottle, it's a large and interesting decanter. Made of white ceramic, small details of blue brush strokes that mimic the plant its derived from; Agave. It’s a tequila bottle.

“So you keep it in a box, in the back of the cabinets, to remember them?” It’s ridiculous that they memorialize something yet refuse to display it proudly. “Why can’t you guys put it in the open- or even put it in your office.” Remembering where you are as soon as you look up, Price’s eyes that rival the blue paint are already staring at you.

“Someone would either take it or break it,” Emphasizing his words with a pointed look, “And we usually like to look at it and tell old stories when we think about our time with them. Oh, that's actually sweet of them.

“Are they… dead?”

A scoff leaves Price but Ghost, always eavesdropping, answers. “The only thing that can kill Alejandro, is Alejandro. The same goes for Rudy.” A short laugh follows before looking back down at his phone.

What an interesting thing to say.

“They seem like a lovely pair.” You answer back to both of the men in the room, but Price doesn’t allow any more time to look over the bottle. Closing the box, his hand comes back to cradle your head before putting it back. 

Pulling away after shutting the cabinet, he stays close. “Craziest cowboys I’ve ever met.” He looks far away for a moment, absent-mindedly smoothing down your hair from where he ruffled it. It only takes a moment for him to come back and realize your faces are inches apart, noticing the soft smile that bleeds into a coy smirk at how well his hand feels in your hair.

“Right, let's have some dinner.”

—

You didn’t often let your human appearance go, but some would say they’ve seen the illusion flicker. Most nights after a shower or finally alone to yourself you’d indulge. Like taking off a a helmet that was too tight, or clothes that squeezed you the wrong way after wearing them for hours, the relaxation to just be yourself was a luxury and comfort these days.

While training in hand-to-hand, it was quickly discovered that you were a sufficient predator. Having enough experience to teach Ghost and Price a few new things, you were often paired with Gaz and Soap as Price directed the scenario in what to do. Even if your body was stuck at your current age, it didn’t mean you were small; Having the human capabilities to grow your natural muscle added as a visual aid to show how hard you’ve worked for well over half of your time roaming this earth.

Sparring with the four others, Price stands on the side of the mat with arms crossed and the occasional guidance barked out at the underdog. You’re often paired with the lieutenant, serving as each other's warm-up. Gaz sits on the ground, eyes narrowed while tracking each movement. Soap, having gotten his legs tugged on too harshly by Ghost, sits opposite while stretching his hips as light grunts leave him. Ghost circles you as you do to him.

“Test his footwork Saint, man’s top-heavy these days.” Price grumbles, the amused tilt in his voice not lost on anyone especially Ghost as he grunts in response.

A few more steps around each other before taunting with a shift of your ankle that draws him to make the first move. Coming at you almost adjacently like the fucking bulldozer he is, Ghost reaches to hook his arm under your thigh and another hand around your back to push you face first into the mat.

Using the momentum of falling back and before he has a hold of you, you bring yourself down in a slide to avert him, but immediately transition to tangle yourself around his leg as you pull him by the belt, wanting to at least bring him on the ground. The man is tall as a skyscraper, and you haven't met anyone like him in the company before joining this team. The move works to an extent; Bringing him down to topple onto the mat, he rolls to grasp at your locked arms and slides his arms around your chest. “Little brat-” 

“Lock ‘im down, sweetheart.” Come’s Price’s voice as you both grapple in a heap on the ground. The pet name makes your head flutter with knowing he’s watching and rooting for you. He wants you to win. Always has since he first trained with you himself.

With the sudden hold around your chest, while Ghost is trying to pry you off, you manage to break it with a stiff elbow. The muted thud is covered by your clothes rustling before managing to turn yourself and put the man in a leglock. A few moments pass as he tries to shake you off, but leeching on his leg muscles signals his two taps on the mat.

“Cheap shot-” He groans as soon as you let go, gaze narrowed while stretching his abused leg out.

“You almost crushed me when you got on the ground, I earned those taps.” Reaching to grab your water bottle and finding Gaz already handing it to you, a shit-eating grin creeps up the corners of his mouth.

“All’s fair, love.” Ghost quips, earning a scoff from Soap.

“Aye, Dinnae think that's howtur saying goes, L.T.”  He calls out as you roll onto your back with a heave. The excitement from rolling around now calming with your breath, taking a moment to drink water as the boy's bicker. “You level’d Ghost?” 

“Peachy keen. Lovely, really.” The snark is evident, but Ghost moves to sit himself onto the sideline with a grunt. Your eyes scan over the others, their gazes shifting away as you catch theirs. Price’s eyes stay on you but wander over your body before speaking.

“Good enough warm-up for you?”

Releasing the water bottle from your lips, “Could have lasted longer in my opinion.”

“Right.” Price drones, and in your side-eye, you can make out a singular look of a chortle from Soap. Price continues, moving to the opposite end of the mat. “Well let's see if I can give a good enough ride then, eh?.”

Standing and stretching for a moment, your feet find their way back to the spot previously starting at. “Ready?”

Price matches your stance, but not as deep of a crouch. One thing you’ve been trying to get the men to work on is lower and shorter targets, so they’re still adjusting. “Steady.” Comes his reply and signal to begin.

He makes quick work of throwing a punch to get you to duck down and step back. The right hook, aiming for your jaw, comes a second too late as you duck under, countering with a jab to his ribs.

Before you can pivot and get into position on his side, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist and pull you into him. The second hand finds a place across your back and is strewn across your hip in a tight hold, leg pushing behind your right knee to get you to the ground.

Latching onto him, your body retaliates by throwing your arm across his chest with your hand at the base of his neck. Combined with a forceful twist to break his balance and pull him onto his back instead.

Price takes the immediate queue, still keeping his tight grip on you. Pulling you by the belt loop of your pants now unceremoniously being yanked down on top of him, his back against the mat while your back is against his chest. The ache in your ribs and lungs comes back at full force once the crook of his elbow finds a place at your neck and begins to squeeze in a steady pressure.

In a moment of sheer instinct, your legs fan to twist your body to be stomach to stomach, but miscalculate his legs trying to cage yours. His knee coming up at just the right wrong time; Your clit lands directly on it.

A shocked yelp is stolen from your lungs, eyes widening in surprise and shock from the unexpected sensation. The sound rings out in the room, the uptick in the pitch being involuntary and a sheer second of vulnerability as your body freezes in response.

Realizing his mistake, Price immediately lets go, sliding your body off of him. "Fuck, you alright?" He asks while crowding over you, the others looking on with their jaws dropped.

When you don't speak instead, just shake your head. It's enough to make Price scramble to a sitting position. “…Saint?”

Eyes wide and breath ragged like a fish for a few seconds as the brutal waves of electricity travel up your spine.

What they see is an entirely different scene.

Black horns look so delicately and meticulously placed upon your head as if you were a doll; the ridged black and dangerously sharp figures curl in a small turn before pointing up. Your hands- one on your groin and the other on the mat, have the tips of your fingers that are painted in an eerie black. Sharp talons decorate your nail beds in an ethereal shade. The usually subdued fangs now gleam in the yellowing lights of the gym. But the real kicker is your eyes.

Red irises that carry a depth of hell's fire look up at the ceiling as you blink slowly. Still lost in the moment as your lungs stutter, your legs pushed together as the initial thumbing calms down. The men’s blinking only confirms to each of them what they see. 

“Holy-”

“Jesus fu-”

“Fuckin-”

“Hell’s bells.”

Price sits on his haunches and leans over to get a better look. “This what you looked like the whole time?” Eyes roaming over in slow strokes, each end of his curious gaze begins again at the top of your head.

A small cough slips as you sit up, planting your palms down while shifting with a groan. Face drawn in a grimace before looking up. “Wha-”

“Ahm pure done in; she’s git a tail.”

At the sound of Soap's now ruggedly thick accent, your eyes meet theirs to be met with shock, disbelief, and morbid curiosity. On your back comes a set of black wings that mimic those of a bat while the tips are shaded with a red hue. Underneath those, is a long, thin tail that sways back and forth gently in small arcs. The tip of it shows to be a heart.

“Oh.” Looking down to see what they’re looking at and finding your glamour spell completely dropped to show you. The entirety of you. “Didn’t think that would be what did it.” Their silence still lingers. 

“Is this going to be an issue? I can cover-“

A clearing of a throat- Prices, you can tell by how many times you’ve heard it after he smokes, now making the others refocus. “No- No. Not an issue at all, Saint.” He drawls with enough time to make heady eye contact with each of the other operators. “Not a problem. At all.”

That’s as much of their first warning that you’ll be hearing. A beat of mumbled agreement leaves the men while the Captain’s hand comes out to offer you a means up. “There a reason this happened?”

“My illusion can drop when distracted or hurt suddenly. Like something plugged in the background then the power shuts off.” Giving them a small show of yourself, turning in a circle as your tail and wings move for more effect.

A low whistle before, “Wouldn't mind feedin’ ya m’self, she-devil.” Soap’s simpering makes way to you, and you’d laugh if your body wasn’t seriously thinking about the ways you could take him on the sparring mat right now.

“Johnny shut the fuck up.” Ghost having enough common sense to reel him back before he does wind up in your clutches. Always a smart man for the sergeant's sake.

A grin splits your lips, tail slightly swaying behind you with an excited flick of the tip. The red in your eyes gleams at the thought of a fulfilling experience, and your tongue can’t help but lick at the tips of your fangs. “We can go right-” 

“Like hell you will.” 

The sudden hand on the back of your neck catches you off guard, clapping your skin in a moment of control. Price, now hoisting you up once his thumb wraps the side of your neck, pulls you up. Wings fluttering to lift you in his hurried and somewhat dragging hold, a scoff passes your lips once he stands on the side of the sparring mat with you.

“Ghost and Gaz. Start up.” He quips cooly, his eyes never stray from you. Eyebrows furrowed in a disappointed stare, and it’s one you haven’t encountered from him yet. He’s not pissed but something has been stirred up inside of him.

“You get your meals when we’re on assignment. Do not tempt my men, because I know how that will end.” You’d give it to Price for holding his authority when faced with a creature so new to him, but the twitch of his gaze to your mouth knocks him down a peg in your books.

“Yes, Captain.” Your muted answer rings out clear for him but the shame of being publicly reprimanded burns your cheeks. His hand squeezes the back of your neck before dropping. Settling your gaze on the men wrestling with faint grunts, you hear Price return to your side a moment later as you both watch on. 

You don’t hide yourself for the rest of training. No one asks you to.

In the end, when tired and feeling no need to bring your illusion back up, Price comes back to your side while trailing the others out of the gym. Slick with sweat, your wings give a light beat of air that helps cool you. 

“Wear this when you leave. Don’t need others gawking at you.” Softness in the sudden murmur makes your head snap to your side. The fabric falls over your shoulders, and the scent of him wafts strongly from it. His jacket. 

The weight of his hands now rests on your shoulders, holding there while his eyes dance precariously upon your horns for a moment. “Leave the horns and eyes, eh? Should be a fun one walking you around like this.”

And while you could just simply make them disappear, wearing his scent on you is far too appealing right now. Tugging the jacket closer to you as you walk out the doors, you give a soft sniff on the neckline.

“Let the angel lead the pack if we’re showin’ ‘er off.” Holding the door open for you, Gaz’s brown eyes give a sharp glint of cockiness while a smile marks his lips. You match his look with ease, moving towards the front.

Safe to say, you felt like the team’s hidden gem; As if a scary guard dog, you made enough room in the hallway to make it seem scripted. Behind you and the group in total, Price watched on with a wry smile as his bucket hat hid the dangerous look in his eyes at the soldiers who stopped to stare.

A week later would reveal how much your natural form has been playing in his mind.

—

“Saint. Got a question for you.” He’d murmured while watching you work on infiltration drills. His cigarette occupies his mouth while eyes track your movements; He stands on a riser behind fake walls, a built scenario of a breach and clear house with fake targets marked on the walls and stands in dummies.

Deciding to finish rounding the next corner and taking aim at a wall target, it takes a few moments before approaching the spot beneath him. “Sir?”

And as if doubling the wait time you gave him, a childish game, he inhales a final pull of his cigarette while his eyes wander over you. Exhaling, “What’s comfortable for you?”

“I’m sorry?”

A chuckle leaves him, putting out the smoke against the fake wall. “Your form. Human, demon. What do you prefer?”

It’s an odd question but only in the sense that you’ve never been asked before. Your preference never mattered nor was taken into account. 

“I’d say the mix of the two. Just hybrid presenting but not fully between either.” A moment before, “Takes less energy.” Eyes squinting from the sun until he stands in your line of sight to offer you his shade from above. The glow of the sun highlights his presence.

His eyebrows quirk up for a moment while licking his lips. “How come you haven’t been doing so in the downtime? When with the team?”

“Didn’t feel that welcomed in our group, Captain.”

His grunt resonates inside the fake hallway where you stand, and he breaks his gaze from you. “S’pose that could be blamed on me.” The sunlight beams into your eyes suddenly as his steps ring out from the wooden stairs. Arriving where you stand a few moments later, his hand pulling out a tac knife. “Let’s see it then. Shouldn’t be wasting away while training, hm?”

Clicking your gun on safety, eyebrows cocked while taking a small step back. “And the knife is for?” Truly, this man seems angelic for one moment before the vibrating strings of his insanity bleed through.

“You’ve got a tail, if I recall correctly.” Stepping forward and giving you that forced grin you’ve learned to associate with danger. You’re tugged by the belt loop against him before he turns you by the hips. There isn’t a chance to protest before a quick rip on the back of your pants is heard.

As the shock passes, you purr at the scene and wish he would drag the knife down to cut an opening and expose your underwear. Better yet, just cut through the underwear while he’s at it. An uncharacteristic surprise is when he shoves two gloved fingers through the small hole of your pants, widening it enough to show a small portion of skin on your lower back. 

“Go on. Let me see it, love.”

Fuck him for being such a tease, he knows what he’s doing. This has to be a test, no attempt to even step away. By the time you unclip your helmet and turn your head to look up to him, your horns and eyes are strikingly apparent. A subtle movement from your lower back catches Price’s attention. Hands now full, you awkwardly set down your weapon and gear before attempting to fish your tail out.

His hands beat you to it. 

A pinching grip on the base of your tail alerts you to his intention, but the slow pull of it makes a chill run up your spine. Hands splaying out against the flimsy wall steady yourself when both of Price’s gloved hands slide over the smooth texture. The whoreish whimper that leaves you makes both of you freeze.

“Thought I’d hurt you but that doesn’t seem to be the case.” The husky melody of his words plays in your ear, adding a swirl of haze when the hand closest to the base of your tail gives a soft tug.

Your body follows the hold he has on you, back arching deliciously. Shooting a hand back to grab onto him, your lips part, shining in the light of the overhead sun. Your eyes, red irises, make his breath leave the pit of his lungs once joining gazes again. “Price, please-” 

The breathless whine isn’t lost on him; You can feel his essence of arousal already heating up where his hands hold your tail. You dare to arch your back by a fraction more and press into him.

Clearing his throat once your ass is flush with the buckle of his pants, he releases only one hand to hold your hips. “Back to your drills. Now.” Before taking his leave around the corner of the makeshift walls.

The burning desire is never satiable for a succubus, and it’s the reason you were gifted your powers. To get what you wanted. Patience is a virtue, but wrath and lust have always been more fun.

[poppy-metal]

Camp counselor Nancy is very by-the-book, while you and Robin are a lot more relaxed. Hey, maybe if you break enough rules, counselor Nancy will punish you for being bad

me writing a whole thing.

The water is warm and nice, you think you’re happy to have fucked off and left the kids to nancy. Its nighttime anyway, they’ll all be in bed soon. You just wanted a moment to yourself, without that stuck up priss rolling her eyes at you.

“What’re you doing?” a voice calls, and you groan from where you'd been floating on your back. Nancy wheeler is standing at the edge of the dock, in a a jean skirt and a pink blouse, frowning out at you with her pouty glossed lips. Her stupid little clipboard is still in her hand.

You tread water to her until youre at the edge of the dock, gripping it and peering up at her with a grin, “having fun, wheeler. Heard of it?"

You see a flush rise to her cheeks, her blue eyes narrowing down, “you’re naked.”

Something about embarrassing nancy wheeler thrills you, you use the grip you have on the ledge to pull yourself up a little, so the tops of your breasts break the surface of the water, nipples hardening in the night air. You see her eyebrow twitch. “Excellent observation, nance. Its called skinny dipping.” you suddenly grab her ankle, “you should try it.”

She stiffens, expression bleeding all expression and going cold and impassive, “dont be ridiculous” she snaps, trying to shake your grip off her. “I just came to look for you because you were absent during dinner.”

You feel your heart skip a beat, “awe. Did you miss me that bad?”

She rolls her eyes, “as if. It was your turn to do cleanup. Im assuming this little side quest was purposeful?” she drags her eyes across the lake in a bored manner.

“Ill clean when im done.” you say, “m’not even pruned up yet.”

She finally succeeds in shaking your hand off her ankle, stepping back. Her lips curl, “typical,” she mutters and you frown.

“What?”

She shakes her head, “its just so you to push aside your responsibilities. I dont even know why you’re here, you dont take anything serious. You’re a joke.”

Her words hit their mark. You’d just wanted to have some fun and she’d gone and ruined it. Youd show her a joke. You wrap your hand around her ankle again, small and delicate just like the rest of her, “wanna see something really funny?”

Her eyes flare, “dont. Dont you da-”

Her words are cut off by you pulling her into the water. Her clipboard clatters onto the deck as she fumbles and topples into the lake. You’re already laughing by the time she pops back up, her perfectly styled hair now a wet mess atop her head, though it annoys you that shes still so pretty.

Her glare could melt Antarctica, you think. Or create a second ice age, with how frosty it is.

“You’re such a bitch.”

Your eyes widen, “oh my god. She curses!”

You’re rewarded with a splash of water in your face, she doesnt look amused. Little nancy wheeler is fuming. “What is wrong with you?”

You sober. “Nothing.”

She shakes her head, little flecks of water flying. “No, i mean it. You’ve had it out for me since the moment summer started. I want to know why? What did i do to you?”

You tread water a little bit back from her, looking off to the side, shrugging, “dunno, really. You’re just….”

“Im just.” she grits, “what.”

You fling your arms up, “you're just such a goddamn priss! With that godforsaken clipboard and your rules and commands, s’like you don’t even know what fun is. Wouldnt know it if it sat on your face.”

She looks at you for awhile. Shes unfairly pretty. “Alot of people think that,” she finally says, almost softly. She sighs, “its so fucking annoying.”

You blink. Woah. the second curse of the night.

You blink as she wades closer, closing the distance between you a little, “i like rules.” she says, “they’re there for a reason. To keep the children safe. They arent a joke. And despite what you might think, i know how to have fun. Just because its not with you doesnt give you the right to pass judgment onto me.”

“You? Know how to have fun? Are pigs flying?” you cup a hand over your eyes as you peer up into the starry sky, pretending to look. “Where?”

Nancy is rolling her eyes again, turning back to the deck to haul herself up.

You follow her. The mood had been ruined anyway.

Water drips from her body and her blouse sticks to her body. You can see her nipples poke through the fabric and she frowns, sighing before shes taking the wet shirt off, and then you’re really gawking, as she shimmies out of her jean skirt.

Shes wearing abhorrently girly underwear. Your cunt pulses anyway as she lays the skirt and blouse out on the deck. She glances at you, “where are your clothes?”

You blankly motion in the direction of a pile of your clothes at the bank of the lake. She goes to get them and you gape as she slips into your shirt and steps into your shorts.

“Um.”

She squeezes water out of her hair, “you pulled me into the lake against my will. If you dont want me to report you, you’ll shut up.”

“W-what amd i supposed to wear.”

She points to her still wet clothes, “those. When they dry.”

“Im supposed to stay here until then?!”

She shrugs. “Not my problem”

“Nancy. Come on-”

“No” she takes a step towards you, “im done. Do you understand? This stupid little rivalry you want with me ends here and now. Im not engaging with you. Its stupid and juvenile and beneath me. You’re beneath me. If you try to cross me again, ill make you regret it. You can try to underestimate that, but i promise ill make you. Fucking. Cry. dont test me.”

You dont know why you do it. If you’re being honest, you’ve been turned on since she came up to the dock. Youve had a thing for her for awhile. You wonder what it says about you that this is turning you on so much.

Either way, you’re both surprised when you lean in and kiss her.

You feel her stiffen, feel her hands rise as if to push you away and you close your eyes, prepared to be slapped.

She kisses you back.

Her small hands grip your wet hips and shes backing you up a few steps until your back is pressed against one of the beams on the dock. You gasp against her mouth when shes shoving a leg between your naked thighs, right up against your little pussy.

She pulls back. Her eyes look like they’re on fire. Or on ice.

“So thats why.” she says, almost to herself.

You blink a little dumbly, still stuck on the fact that shes just cornered you and shoved her thigh between your legs. Its still there. “Huh?”

“You’re pulling my pigtails because you have a crush.” she deadpans. She looks decidedly unimpressed. “Thats such a guy thing to do,” her knee dig up, right against your cunt, “is that you? Are you an immature little boy?”

You shake your head dumbly, “no”

“No?” she parrots, grinding the ridge of her knee into you. Your legs are shaking. “No i guess not. That cunt is unmistakable.”

She pulls back a little to look between your bodies, and you gasp when one of her fingers come down to pull back the hood covering your clit, pressing the pad of her thumb on the engorged center of you, “guess you’re more like a misbehaved puppy.”

“Nancy” you whine, hips bucking.”

“Nancy now? Where’s priss? Princess? Stuck up bitch?” with every word she rolls your clit around with her thumb, rocking you back and forth on her denim clad knee. Your denim shes wearing. “Im gonna tell you a secret”

She lets you hump her leg for a bit, the lips of your cunt spread lewdly as you grind down for some kind of friction or relief. Her hand reaches up to wind in your wet hair, yanks your head back so your neck is exposed to her mouth. She nips and sucks at the flesh as you gasp and mewl for her.

She licks the mark she left on your throat, “id know a good time if it sat on my face. Id tongue fuck that good time sooooo nice. Give her my fingers. Let her ride me. Cause this princess has a cock she likes to use. Likes when cute little girls like you spread your little cunt for me to fuck.”

As soon as she was on you, shes off, the pressure on your cunt gone as she backs up.

She smiles primly.

“Too bad you’re on my bad side now. We could’ve had so much fun.” she spins around, waving as she skips away, “see you!’

[oncillabrigade]

I feel like I see a lot of fan authors/artists depicting Jason and Tim (and sometimes Steph) as unrelentingly mean to Damian in public, and that doesn't ring true to me. I haven't read the comics since before Damian was introduced (Wayne Family Adventures pulled me back in, and oh man there are fun DC comics these days!) so maybe I'm missing some canon examples of that... but I feel like every single child in that family gets how awful it is to be in the spotlight at a young age. They remember how awkward and exhausting it was to always smile for the camera, always be perfectly behaved, always uphold the ideal of what a Wayne adoptee should be. It didn't matter how you felt; you had to act the part. And they wouldn't make that harder for anyone.

Detailed thoughts below the fold!

Acting like a Perfect Wayne Kid™️ must be easier for Tim than for his siblings, because he was already playing that game as a Drake. But that doesn't mean it wasn't excruciating, especially for someone as introverted and wonderfully weird as Tim. Honestly, I think he'd be a mine of useful information for the later additions to the family!

I can see him at a charity dinner next to Cass, indicating which utensil comes next, murmuring, "I know, it's ridiculous. And there's no real reason, which makes it so hard to remember. But you're doing great." I can see him helping Duke practice the "right" laugh before a party: "Not too loud, not too real, not too many teeth showing. These people are terrified of genuine emotion, but in a shittier way than Bruce is." And I can most certainly see him talking Damian through how to leave a room when there are TOO. MANY. PEOPLE and the walls are closing in, showing him escape routes at different venues, explaining, "you don't want to use the bathroom excuse too many times in a row. People notice and tabloids start saying you have an eating disorder. I'll text you a list of alternate reasons to leave a conversation."

What I cannot see is Tim leaving anyone out to dry in the hell of high society. Even if Dami were driving him NUTS, I don't think Tim would call him a brat, insult him outright, or badmouth him to others. I think the worst thing he'd do is roll his eyes with humorous exaggeration and say, "okay, Damian, you've done your little brotherly duties--go talk to your friends, okay?" He could be SEETHING about a horrific fight 30 minutes before their appearance and play it off as, "haha, well, all brothers bug each other sometimes." And then he'd pivot, flawlessly, to a positive comment about the whole family, Dami included. Tim Drake, world champion of compartmentalization, fiercely loyal and kindhearted, is not giving the press a single bad word about his siblings. He is smiling and saying all the right things.

And then... then, there's Jason.

Jason understands, firsthand, how hard being inducted into the world of Perfect Wayne Behavior™️ is. Can you imagine Jason Peter Todd going through that? It's not just that he was in a new world, where money and food and clothes were a given, not a hard-won prize. It's not just that there were a million new rules to memorize (how to wear a suit, inscrutable dining etiquette, passive aggression instead of speaking your mind when angry, etc.). It's not just that he was suddenly thrust in the limelight at a young age, thrown in at the deep end of child stardom. It's not just that he was inevitably compared to Dick, who's naturally charismatic in a way that made his rambunctiousness forgivable by Gotham's elite. It's not just that he was simultaneously learning to be a Wayne AND a Robin, which was both mentally and physically exhausting.

No, it was all that PLUS who Jason was when he had just been adopted. Picture him: a kid from Crime Alley, recently out of a school for troubled youth, mourning the loss of his mother, and WAY too fucking smart not to see the condescension in the eyes of his new dad's peers. He was treading water constantly in every aspect of life, occasionally managing to float... all while the press and high society watched intently and judged him like he was swimming in the Olympics. Being Robin gave him magic, but god, he must have used so much of it up on just getting through public appearances.

I refuse to believe that someone who went through that would belittle or humiliate anyone doing the same. Especially when it comes to Damian. Damian, who comes from a world where physical prowess is the ultimate trump card, now trapped in a conversation where mentioning that prowess means he loses status. Damian, who knows the worst physical pain you can imagine and takes it as all in a day's work, struggling to contain his disdain for someone complaining about their tennis elbow. Damian, who was exposed to the worst aspects of humanity before he could form permanent memories, staring in disbelief at a kid his age saying the teacher who gave them an hour of detention is SO evil. Damian, who had mastered the rules of the League, discovering that the rules of Gotham high society are SO different that his prior knowledge is actively disadvantaging him.

I cannot imagine Jason seeing Damian as anything other than a fellow kid trapped in the pool with all eyes on him.

So Jason will do what he's always done: stand up for someone in need. Because Damian IS in need, no matter how much of a pain-in-the-ass he might be. That means Jay is telling the press about how smart Damian is, how good he is with animals, how proud the whole family is of his art. It means he's wearing suit pants with deep pockets so Damian's emotional support plushie is on hand at all times. It means he's using his bulk to clear the way to the balcony when the kid needs air and quiet. It means he's verbally eviscerating the posh knob who called Dami a brat, because NO ONE outside the family gets to say that shit about Jason fucking Todd's baby brother.

I don't care how annoyed they are with each other--bat kids hang together in the face of danger. And make no mistake: being a Perfect Wayne™️ is one of the most dangerous missions they face.

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

Drunk in Love (Obey Me)

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I hate Lucifer!!! But I love Lucifer angst!!!

Lucifer's forehead looked like a shiny egg. The glare on it shifted as he violently gestured with his hands. He was giving some sort of lecture, but you had tuned him out ten minutes ago. Now, all you could do was focus on his giant forehead that glistened like a freshly boiled egg. 

"Are you listening?"

"Egg."

"What?"

You blinked. "Huh? Oh. Uh…yes?"

He crossed his arms, glaring down at you. "No. You're not."

"Can you blame me? Do I really need to be lectured for this long?"

"You skipped school."

" One time , Lucifer."

"Are you trying to become a dropout? It only takes one time!"

Your mind flitted back to those "anti-drug" campaigns. It was a bunch of cheesy slogans like that. Gateway drugs, hanging with all the wrong people, and making bad decisions. Lucifer sounded like a more angry version of the teachers there. You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to listen to his lecture anymore.

"So you're telling me you've never skipped school?"

He snorted. "No. I'm a diligent student."

That was more than enough to get you annoyed. "Diligent? So just because I skipped one day, I'm suddenly a bad apple. Ok, got it."

"Good. Glad we've come to an agreement. You're grounded for a week."

You stood up. "Seriously?! That's so unfair!" 

"It's completely fair. You are to not go out. You go to school and immediately come home."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Language."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

Lucifer's eyes darkened as he spoke your name with a low and careful tone. "Say that again."

"You're just pissed because your life is so boring! You see one person break the rules, and out of jealousy, you incite your oh so powerful wrath because you can't stand seeing people actually enjoy being alive."

"Don't you make assumptions about me!" Lucifer shouted, pointing his finger at you. "I am trying to help you!"

"News flash! Punishments won't help anyone!"

"Yes it does! I'm keeping you from wasting your time!"

"This," You motioned widely with your hands, as if to encompass your relationship with him in a bubble. "Is a waste of my time! Did you even ask me why I skipped?"

Lucifer's eye twitched. At this point, you knew it was best to tread lightly. That was, until he spoke again. "I don't need to know why! You were being stupid!"

"You're fucking stupid! You're nothing but a boring, pompous, power hungry asshole!"

Before you could let Lucifer even rip into you, you stomped out of his room and slammed the door. You were half expecting him to chase after you, demon form and all, but he never did. You huffed proudly to yourself. It was about time he was told what's what. 

When you opened your door, you saw Mammon and Levi lounged on your bed. Levi was laying on his stomach, fidgeting with his switch, while Mammon sat next to him. You flopped down on the only empty space. Immediately, both Mammon and Levi turned their attention to you. You stared at them, and then covered your eyes.

"That was bad, wasn't it?" 

Mammon hummed. "Honestly, I haven't heard him that angry in a while. Not even towards me."

"I haven't heard you yell," Levi thought out loud. "It was kinda…"

You groaned. "Enough."

Mammon poked at your cheek. "Are you ok?"

Were you? You felt drained. Fights were bad, but getting yelled at was worse . If these two weren't here, you would probably be crying. It's not like you haven't been lectured by Lucifer before. In fact, who hasn't been lectured by him? The hurt you felt more so came from him not having any faith in you at all. Sure, you could've told him beforehand you were skipping, but would he even have let you go?

"Tired," You mumbled, deciding not to express your hurt. "Wake me up when dinner is ready."

"Should we leave?" Mammon asked. You knew he wouldn't.

"It's fine."

"Ok."

About an hour later, you woke up to numb legs as Mammon shook you awake. You groggily rubbed your eyes and sat up. Levi was using your thighs as a body pillow as he continued to game. With a sigh, you pushed him off. Your head was pounding and you wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. But your stomach grumbled. 

"What time is it?" You mumbled, slowly getting up.

"Almost six." Mammon answered.

"Whose turn was it to cook?"

"Satan's." Levi's game made an alarming noise. He sighed and tossed it down. "I can't pass this level!"

You sleepily smirk at him. "Need my help?"

"No. Last time I got your help, you wouldn't let me play for two hours ." 

You shrug. "It was fun."

No one spoke about the fight with Lucifer. You didn't want to talk about it either. You were ready for the awkwardness when you saw him out at dinner. Talking, but avoiding the touchy subject. Stiff words with no emotion. How fun did that sound? Levi trailed after you with his Switch while Mammon stood glued to your side.

As you sat at the dinner table, you noticed that Lucifer wasn't there. You tried to not look too concerned. Normally, he would be at dinner after lecturing anyone, as if to say "you could be next". Satan walked in with the main course and set it on the table next to the sides. It was some sort of roast with an array of "vegetables" as sides. He sat next to you. You saw Beel reaching for a piece of the roast. You took the giant fork before he could, and filled up his plate. Then you did the same to the rest of the brothers. When everyone had their plates, you all awkwardly looked at each other.

"Uhm…" Levi pursed his lips. "Do we…wait?"

"Why should we?" Satan rolled his eyes, picking up his fork. 

Belphie nods in agreement. "It's not like he ever waits for us." He yawns and sits back in his chair, hugging the pillow in his lap. "Let's just eat."

There were no complaints. Everyone started to eat. After a couple of silence-filled minutes, Asmo decided to fill up the silence with his escapades for the day. Something about the new clothes he got and new skincare products. It was a good distraction. Soon conversation flowed between all seven of you. Laughter and playful bickering was enough to have you in a good mood. That was until you heard the front door open and then slam shut. 

“I’m home!” Lucifer announced, his arms raised as he stumbled into the dining room. “Welcome me back!”

“Welcome back?” You questioned looking up from your plate. He looked like shit. “Where were you?”

“Well,” He slurred, all but falling in his chair. “Diavolo and I got a bit too enthusiastic with the Demonus...and drank six bottles each.”

“Jesus Christ man, it’s literally six in the evening.” Mammon gaped.

“Oh. I’m just a bit tipsy. And watch your language around the dinner table. Beelzelbub, please pass me some food.”

Beel looked up then frowned, his eyes growing as he scooted the plate closer to himself. You stifled a giggle as Lucifer reached out, trying to get any sort of food. Beel whined and defensively smacked his hand away. Lucifer grabbed his hand and gasped. Satan groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Great,” He groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Now we have to deal with this.”

“I find it quite amusing,” Asmo grinned, his chin resting on his hand.

“Deal with what?” You asked.

“That’s right!” Mammon smiled, a giddiness in his eyes. “You’ve never seen Lucifer drunk!”

“It’s nothing special,” Levi muttered.

“You’re only saying that because you don’t get scolded.” Belphegor snorted. “Get ready. You’re in for a treat.”

“Beelzebub!” Lucifer gasped again, totally offended. “How could you? I am your brother! I love you, and this is how you treat me?”

“And I love food.”

Lucifer drops his head onto the dining table with a thunk . His shoulders shook as if he was crying. You lifted an eyebrow. The once strong, proud, never faltering Lucifer was now nothing more than a clumsy drunk demon. You warily finished off your plate. As funny as it was to see him like this, you also were too tired to deal with him anymore for today. You silently stood, taking your plate into the kitchen. You go back into the dining room.

"I'm gonna go rest in my room for the rest of the night."

"I wanna come!" Levi says.

You shook your head. "I need alone time."

"But-"

Satan interrupted him. "Just let them get rest."

You silently thanked him. After taking a glance at drunk Lucifer, who was still face down on the table, you left. Once in your room, you sat on the edge of your bed and chewed at your nails. Drunk? Drunk ? Lucifer drank, sure, but he wasn't once to get this bad. You doubt it was Diavolo's doing. Despite his upbeat and playful personality, he would never put Lucifer in a position like that. So it must've been —

Your eyes widen as the conversation you had with him earlier pops into your brain. Was it because you called him boring? Did he actually go out and get drunk to prove a point? Never had you thought that your words had any sort of effect on Lucifer. It felt kind of good , knowing that you were the one to lead him to this point.

"Let me in!"

Speak of the devil. There was a pounding at your door. You swung it open to see Lucifer. He smiled and then took a deep swig of water. You sighed, putting your hand on your hip. "Do you need something?"

Lucifer places his hand on your shoulder. "Can we talk?"

"I don't want to talk to you when you're drunk."

"But I wouldn't-" He pauses, blinking his eyes. Then he hiccups. " hic ! Ugh. Please?"

You shift your body so he could come in. Maybe it was a lapse of judgment, or maybe it was the fact that he currently had no filter. Whatever it was, something was telling you to let him in and hear you out. Lucifer walked over to your bed, his steps a little more stable. You sat next to him. 

He hummed a bit, taking the last bit of water. "Did you really mean it?"

You knew what he was talking about, but still, you asked. "Mean what?"

"When you called me a boring, pompous, power hungry asshole." His words smoothly ran into one another. He was sounding less and less drunk. "That really hurt, you know."

You snorted. "I can tell. I've never seen you act like this before."

His eyes softened slightly, as did his voice. "You wanted it to hurt?"

"I-" You took a moment to think. "I did. Because you hurt me."

"I'm just trying to make sure you live properly.." He groaned, leaning against your shoulder. "Just look at my brothers! They're always a mess."

"They're a mess because you keep meddling in their lives. We're all adults, Lucifer. If they need help, they'll ask. Stop trying to control everything. Stop trying to control me."

"But I have to!"

"So you act even more childish when you're drunk?"

"I'm not drunk," He straightened and then turned towards you. You stared at him as both his hands gripped the side of your face. "I need to protect you. I love you ."

Lucifer wasn't the type to be affectionate, much less say such weighted words. You can't even remember the last time he said them to his brothers. It took you aback. Then you remembered he was drunk, and it was probably all a lie anyway. So when he kissed you, you did nothing.

"Lucifer," You whispered, placing your hands on his chest. "You're drunk. Go to sleep."

"Please. Please kiss me back." His voice was so desperate. His eyes were no longer hazy, the cloudiness of alcohol all but gone. "Please."

It wasn't right of you to kiss him. Not when you were now doubting your feelings on him. With a shake of your head, you stood and left your room, closing the door behind you. The living room was lively as the boys played a board game. You sat in the corner, ignoring them and zoning out. Lucifer kissed you. He tried kissing you again. The platonic love you had originally thought he felt fell out the window. Your heart was pounding, but your eyes still felt heavy. All you could think about when you drifted off to sleep was Lucifer's desperate expression

***

You had tried avoiding Lucifer all day. At breakfast, on the way to school, in the halls, it seemed like everywhere you turned, he was there. You didn't want to talk about last night. It felt awkward. It felt painful. Maybe it's because this was the first time he was nice to you in ages and it's because he was drunk. Or maybe it's because you didn't want to find out that all those words were a lie. Whatever it was, you wanted to avoid it. 

The bell rang for lunch. You told Mammon that you would meet up with him later. In all the drama yesterday, you had forgotten to finish your homework for next period. You sat alone in the empty classroom and worked diligently to finish. Until a large hand placed itself over your papers.

You stood, gathering your stuff. "Not now, Lucifer."

"Can we just talk?" He sighed.

"I need to go meet up with Mammon." You tried to push past him. "I'm going to be late."

He rolled his eyes. "So you're not going to finish your homework? I'll help." 

That made you snort. He really needed to get his thoughts under control. You didn't need to be here for that, so you tried leaving. But he didn't let you. Instead, his hands wrapped around your waist and he pushed you back until you hit your desk. His body was flush against yours as he looked down at you with a stern expression.

"What are you doing?" You hissed.

"We need to talk about last night."

"Do you even remember what happened?"

He winced slightly. "I remember asking Diavolo if I was boring. I remember drinking to prove both of you wrong. I remember coming home-" Lucifer's voice dropped to a whisper as his hand gently cradled your cheek, his thumb grazing against your lips. "And making a fool of myself. I remember telling you how hurt I felt…and how you wanted me to be hurt."

Your face was ablaze in a blush. Lucifer's voice was always smooth while talking. Right now, it rendered you helpless as you just stared at him. "So are you going to apologize?"

"I am. I won't say I'll change right away…but you made it clear how you felt. How I made you feel. But now…"

"Now?"

"I want you to feel good."

This kiss wasn't based on drunk feelings. This one was calm and confident. His lips were warmer, softer than you remembered. And this time you kissed Lucifer back. You let yourself get lost in the way his lips seemed to so perfectly fit against yours. His hand moved down to your neck, while the other squeezed your waist as he tried to press himself closer to you. He let out a soft chuckle, as if he had just won something. You bit his lip. "Ow! Seriously?" He glared at you.

You grinned and patted his cheek. "Just a little revenge."

"You get a pass this time," He sighed. He looked at you with such a loving gaze, that you had to look away. "I truly am sorry. I have crossed the line yesterday, multiple times. I lost my temper. Next time you are in need of a lecture, I will not resort to the same method."

You raised an eyebrow. "Next time. And what method will you use?"

He smirked. Before you could ask what he was doing, his lips were attached to your neck. You let out a surprised gasp. Lucifer laughed and leaned back. "This one. Hopefully it'll deter you."

"Asshole!" You playfully pushed him back. "How about being more lenient?"

"How about giving me a warning next time you decide to skip?"

"Deal."

"Good." Lucifer pauses. He shifts uncomfortably. "I apologize for raising my voice and not bothering to hear you out. And…about what I said last night…don't feel pressured to answer. I want to take it slow. By taking you on a date. Tonight."

"I can't."

"What?" His face fell. "But I thought-"

You shrugged. "I'm grounded. Not allowed to go out."

Lucifer's face turned red. It was such a cute sight. After a second, he composed himself again, giving you a smirk. "Oh, you play a tough game. You're no longer grounded. Good?"

"Good." 

[intelligentbees]

Steve quietly helping a “finally at the end of his wick&burnt out” Tony out of his suit and into bed

The button was sticking to his fingers. It had to be. There was no other reason as to why the hell this was taking so long.

Tony looked down in confusion, observing his index and thumb as they battled to wrangle the slick white button out of its buttonhole. It wasn't going very well from the looks of it, which was strange, because he could've sworn he started to work at them almost as soon as he'd stepped through the door. That meant he'd been at it for at least 20 seconds now. This was not something that Tony could say he usually struggled with.

He watched his own fingers as they fiddled desperately at the contraption for a few more moments before, finally giving up and falling dejectedly onto the countertop. He could give that another go later, he figured. For now...

Well. Fuck. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Blinking slowly, Tony attempted to orientate himself. He knew he was in the kitchen at the tower. He knew it was... well, Tony didn't quite know what time it was because the meeting with the Secretary of Defence had run over, but it was dark now. 11, maybe? He knew that there was probably something else he needed to get done before he could call it a night. His to-do list had only been growing since he started it at the beginning of the week, and they weren't the kinds of things you could put off until the next day. They were the kinds of things that, if left too long, could get people killed.

Right. Okay. He needed a refuel. A bagel, maybe. And a coffee. And then he would... yeah. The kit for Natasha. Top priority. She was heading out to Alaska tomorrow and her old suit had been torn to shreds in the debacle last Tuesday. So bagel, coffee, workshop. Bagel, coffee, workshop. Bagel-

"Could I suggest, sir, that you substitute your coffee and workshop plans for bed instead? It has been two days since you last achieved REM sleep."

Tony was quiet for a moment. He stared at the wall, and then glanced up to the ceiling slowly, a frown folding into his forehead.

"Did you just read my mind?" He asked JARVIS.

"No sir. I listened."

"Oh. I was speaking?"

"Indeed sir."

"Ah."

See, this was the slight problem that came with spending a week hopping straight from one obligation into another. He started to lose track of himself a little. The overuse of caffeine probably didn't help either. But it was that or fall behind, and he quite simply didn't have time to fall behind. At this point, he'd never catch back up again. He had to do more. Keep going.

So he chose to ignore JARVIS's advice, and instead reached a hand into the pack of bagels on the side. His mind whirred disjointedly as it tried to work through the current set of problems plaguing Stark Industries. The biggest issue was tied into the aforementioned meeting he'd just had with the Defence Secretary. As a general rule, Tony Stark and military personnel did not get on too well. They'd never gotten out of the sulk they fell into with him after his whole 'no more weapons' epiphany, which was just fine by Tony. They talked a lot of shit about him behind closed doors and, occasionally, in public meetings, but they were normally content to leave it at that.

Except now they'd gone ahead and appointed this new guy into one of the top brass roles, and his sole mission seemed to be wrangling Stark Industries back into the weapons business. By any means necessary.

Tony would come out victorious in this stupid little power play, obviously. This wasn't the first time a government official had used thinly-veiled threats and blackmail against him. It was, however, the first time the pressure had come right from the top of the chain. And it implied there was a wider cultural change in the ranks of the US Military, which meant Tony, The Avengers and Stark Industries were all going to have to tread more delicately if they wanted to weather the storm.

He sighed, gaze losing its focus for a few moments. In front of him, the toaster ticked away. The smell began to permeate the air. Tony realised he wasn't even sure he was hungry. He had been, a few hours ago, but the sensation had since faded when it realised it wasn't being listened to. Now he just felt hollow. Like someone had scooped out his brains with a melon baller. He realised he was swaying back and forth on his feet - a slow, repeated motion that was starting to make him feel dizzy. He told himself to be still.

The bagel popped out of the toaster, and it was only then that Tony remembered there were extra steps to this process. Butter. And a knife. He needed both. Hopefully his hands would be able to handle this one.

Turning on his heel, he headed over to the fridge, because he was 90% sure that was where they kept the butter these days - but as his hips swivelled to the left, he felt himself bump against something that had not previously been in the kitchen. It was firm, but soft. Warm. It smelled familiar.

Tony was staring in mild surprise at the chest in front of him, and it took a moment before he realised that that wasn't where you were supposed to look when you bumped into people. And Steve was a stickler when it came to being polite, so he promptly lifted his gaze.

"Hi," he told Steve. This, he thought, was an appropriate thing to say - not too much, not nothing at all, just right. "I'm making a bagel."

Steve, however, didn't seem to care much about the bagel. He didn't even look at it when Tony gestured over to it, which was unusual, because Steve was a very food-oriented man. Instead, Steve was staring down at Tony, a strange kind of intensity in his eyes. They'd been arguing earlier this morning. God, he hoped Steve wasn't coming back to pick up where they'd left off.

Then Steve did something strange. He lifted his hands. Curled them gently around the place where Tony's shoulders met his biceps: soft at first, but then adding just a touch of pressure, enough that Tony's brain noticed it and perked up, flared back into life just a little. The sensation of it kicked off a chain reaction. He realised his thumb hurt, and he needed to pee, and that he'd somehow forgotten to turn on the light as he'd been walking through the kitchen because it was dark as shit and he could actually barely see the other man an inch away from him.

"Tony," Steve's voice was calm, firm, and left absolutely no room for argument. "You can stop now."

Tony didn't respond, too busy trying to process that in his head. It didn't sound right - he knew there was a list, he did, and it was his job to do it and he'd been working at it for the last five days and there wasn't time to stop, there just wasn't. That was what he'd been telling himself, over and over and over. But then, if that was true, it would mean that Steve was wrong. Steve was rarely wrong.

"You can stop," Steve said again. "It's okay to stop."

Was it really?

"Natasha needs--"

"She will be fine. You've created dozens of variants of that uniform for her. Her wardrobe is literally full of protective gear." Steve gave him another gentle squeeze, and it felt good, it felt really good for Steve to touch him. It'd been days since they'd touched. Tony had just been so busy, and then when they had seen eachother they'd been fighting about the fucking portal debacle from Tuesday and now, wow, it felt so good to be touched. The care, the love, it seemed to seep out from Steve's fingers. He'd not even realised he'd been in fight or flight mode all day until he was reminded, right now, of how it felt to be safe.

"I shouldn't," Tony's voice was quiet. He shook his head.

Steve just nodded his. "Yes you should. Come on sweetheart. You know you need to rest. You're doing no-one any favours by running around half-delirious."

"I'm not half delirious."

"JARVIS told me you couldn't even undress yourself. And you're bleeding all over our floor, by the way." Steve's head nodded downward, and Tony looked to see that yeah, Steve was actually right. There was a smattering of small, delicate crimson drops staining their cream tiles.

Tony frowned, recalling the vague memory of his thumb hurting. He glanced down, and spotted the nail that he'd accidentally removed about 20% of. It was a bad habit. Howard had absolutely fucking hated his nail biting - he used to rip Tony's hand straight out of his mouth if ever he got caught in the act, often taking the rest of the nail he'd had his teeth clamped around with it.

"Oh," was all Tony could say.

Without changing a shade, Steve moved again, hand slipping around Tony's and lifting it. He efficiently slotted Tony's thumb into his mouth, sucking off the blood, and then leaned sideways, delving into the drawer where they kept (amongst a plethora of other random assorted crap) the band-aids. He wound it around Tony's thumb, taking extra care to ensure that the raw skin of his cuticle was padded by the gauze and didn't touch the adhesive. When that was done, he shifted his attention to Tony's dress shirt, popping open the first few with frustrating ease. They'd definitely not been playing ball when it'd been Tony trying to make them open.

"It's time to call it a night," Steve told him. Now his hand was on Tony's jaw. His thumb was rubbing a little circle just in front of Tony's ear, like a massage, and God it felt so good that in that moment Tony lost sight of everything else. The work, the sting of pain, the frantic cacophony of 'do more, do more, do more' that had been looping uncontrollably in his head. The one thing that stood between Tony Stark and oblivion was Steve Rogers' right thumb, and man, it was fucking holding up.

Then, slowly, Steve pulled him into his arms. With one hand still pressing into the side of Tony's, the other circled around the his shoulders. They drew him into the impossible feeling of safety that came with being immersed in Steve's hug, and that was it. That was just it.

Tony sagged. He felt Steve's mouth press a gentle kiss against the top of his head. He was so, so, so fucking tired.

"Wanna go to bed?" Steve asked softly.

Tony nodded.

[captain-mj]

Hear me out, Soapghost, Brahm's The Boy. Eh?? Eh??

I've been talking about this movie a stupid amount lately so... yeah, I'll eat this up. CW: This is based off a horror movie so it's the normal stuff, violence, stuff like that but also noncon voyeurism (Ghost watches Soap without him knowing but also listens to him) and Soap is just in general a bit of a freak

Made quite a few changes but it's the same premise

His interviewer had been a kind older man named Price. He was only in his 30's and was clearly capable of running the place, but he had been told to hire someone while he took a much needed vacation. Apparently, no one else stayed in the house but Price, which seemed a bit odd as he was clearly someone hired on, not the owner. Price had went through all of his duties and most importantly, he went over the lovely, lovely salary.

Soap had thought this job was just a bit too good to be true. He had to do some basic house sitting things and then he was clear. Also, he had to be nice to this doll.

The thing was... honestly kinda cute. His body was soft cotton over some stuffing and a skull design. Yeah, he wasn't the best of dolls, but he was a doll.

A cute doll. But a doll. nonetheless. His name was Ghost.

Regardless, he followed the rules. He had grown up Scottish and hearing of Brownies and other little folklore creature. Make breakfast. Give Ghost doll a kiss on forehead. Don't question any weird happenings, it's an old house. Make dinner, leave a section for Ghost. And always make sure to leave a cup of tea out at night. One cream, two sugars. Extra strong tea.

It tasted like tea, just rather sweet. Soap didn't like it. He had tried to make himself a cup to have with the mystery thing in the walls, but he ended up stopping and going to bed after a while. Each time, the food and drink was consumed.

Soap had... accepted that something was there with him. He was fairly certain it was a cat or something that could smell the cream. Most of the dishes were fairly meat based or had a lot of broth. It didn't make the most sense, but the alternate was a dog and he'd rather not think about some silent mutt walking around stealing food off the tables. Riley, the only dog on the entire property, was far too well trained for such behaviors. The little dog was odd, often staring at the walls for hours or sometimes disappearing around corners. Soap wasn't a big fan of dogs but he did make exceptions for her.

Things were a little spooky sometimes, but Soap never found himself being frightened. I mean... Ghost was a pretty good protector he always joked with the people that delivered groceries. Plus, whether it be ghost, monster or a dog, it hadn't come close to Soap yet. It occasionally made the floor creak or moved things, but nothing bad or mischievous.

The fact that he got to live in this huge house that sprawled out over acres of land and had it's own lake was excellent too. Every week on Sunday, someone would deliver groceries. It was clear they were being altered slightly, no two exactly the same although meals interlapped all the time, but Soap chalked it up to a delivery system that lets someone schedule different orders.

"Do you know anything about the man that hired you?" The delivery guy always spoke in hushed tones, looking around the home nervously, as if a man would pop up out of nowhere to bring death and ruin, but now, they werespeaking at barely above a decibel, glancing around feverishly.

Soap shrugged. "No. Just know how much I'm paid and what my job entails. Why?"

"Simon Riley was an odd guy, even before the fires. Some people insist he started them. He's an odd fellow. if he hired you, I'd tread lightly." The man looked at him uneasily before glancing at the wall directly behind Soap. His mouth fell into a grimace. "Fucking freak."

Soap felt a weird surge of protectiveness. Yes, he had never met Simon in person, but the entire place felt like a huge memorial to his family. Each room decorated like they'd come back to it and, if this guy was to believed, that meant he had to recreate each detail. He was also a very generous employer and he'd never wronged Soap or anyone that he'd talked to. Soap wanted the man out of the house, feeling a very strong sense of being watched thanks to the entire situation. "Haven't met him. Thank you."

The man looked at him with something strangely similar to pity before nodding. "See you next week, MacTavish." He left Soap alone to put the groceries away.

"Fucking asshole." Soap started to put the groceries away and quickly heard the floor creak. "Ghost?"

Complete silence.

He ignored it and put everything away. After stretching real quick, back popping and limbs burning just a little, he tried to decide what to do. His shoulder injury was acting up so most things were out. Damn thing had already gotten him discharged after only a year in the services, he didn't see the reason for it to keep tormenting him.

Riley seemed to have an idea so he took her on a walk. Most dogs preferred schedules, Soap knew, but according to Price, Riley was an ex military dog and had a mind of her own. Soap thought she was like him and after the military, they just liked experiencing each day as a new thing. Not just a repeat of the old ones.

She stopped at the edge of the property and kept glancing at him before trying to trot a little farther away. Soap whistled and she walked back, clearly displeased that he didn't follow her. Riley barked at him and circled him before tapping her nose against his thigh like she was trying to herd him. He laughed her off and motioned back inside. She followed, though clearly still upset about it.

Soap went and showered, letting the hot water filter over him. Price had assured him that the only cameras were on the outside of the house, but he always felt watched in here. Ghost, his little doll companion, always waited outside. It was silly, not wanting the doll to be able to look at him, but he couldn't help it.

Right now, the feeling wasn't there and Soap took a deep breath before letting his hand slide down. He had no way of knowing that Ghost was right on the other side of the wall, silently holding his breath.

His hand reached down slowly, just barely stroking himself. He bit his lip hard and stroked himself a little more earnestly, getting a tiny gasp that set Ghost's insides on fire.

Soap closed his eyes, going through a few different scenarios. The first thought was of being interrogated, but it felt a bit too harsh. His thoughts drifted to the masked men he had met in the army. The idea of their hands on him.

"Please..." He choked hard, thrusting in hands. "Oh, please." Soap tried for a few minutes, but the edge he needed wasn't there. He shifted his weight, spreading his legs a little so he could reach his hand lower down to press against his hole..

The name popped up in his head. "Ghost." Why he said it out loud was beyond him, but it made the person listening very happy to hear. And very hard.

With shaking hands, Simon undid his belt and tried to make his hand follow Soap's movements based on the grunts and noises he heard. He could turn his head and look through the small crack and watch. Really give himself a show, but he wanted to show some restraint.

Soap managed to get his finger inside and groaned. "Please, Ghost. It feels good."

Ghost's breath sped up and so did his hands. His hips moved of their own accord, jerking up and chasing the pleasure. He could only imagine how Soap would feel. Probably far better than his hand. As long as Soap stayed in his house, he'd take care of him. He got rid of that nasty delivery guy and he'd get rid of anyone else.

Soap was his.

His.

He whimpered and heard Soap stop immediately. Ghost held his breath again as Soap quickly turned off the shower and they both waited to see what would happen.

"John?" Soap called out, listening.

Ghost didn't dare move an inch. This particularly floorboard was creaky and he couldn't risk it.

After a moment, Soap turned the shower back on and quickly finished getting himself cleaned up. He didn't finish though, clearly too freaked out. Ghost scratched at his skin, pissed he had just fucked that up.

Ghost fixed the grocery list again and Soap was happy to get the groceries from the new person the next week.

They were very nice and handed him everything. One of the items was a bottle of lube.

Soap felt himself turn bright red. He had long forgotten about the shower incident, marking everything down as the house settling.

How embarrassing.

However, the lotion was a high quality kind and it looked... Soap had only had lotion and his spit, neither were that great for penetration.

Minutes later, after the stuff that would go bad got put in the fridge, he was using it. He was gagging for it, a little upset his fingers could only go so deep. Soap was rough with himself, liked it that way. His fingers kept going after he felt he'd explode from overstimulation before he finally let himself collapse.

Ghost enjoyed the show and wondered how Soap would feel about dildos. There was no way he'd be able to put that in the order without suspicion, but if ever came out...

No. It was a horrible idea. Despite how nice and inviting Soap looked right now.

Then he came. An ex boyfriend of Soap's. It made Soap stupidly angry just seeing him and when he tried to go in to grab him, he almost clocked him. However, it was clear he was drunk and he wanted to know how he found this address so he bit his tongue and let him in.

"Johnny! Johnny!" He moaned, stepping around and around before finally stumbling into the couch. "You disappeared on me, babe."

Soap took a deep breath to try to calm himself. "I broke up with you, Kent. Remember? I'm not interested anymore." Riley sat nearby, a watchful eye. She did not growl or bark or even announce her presence. She waited.

"Listen, I know I made mistakes. But come on. They were honest."

"Let's talk about this when you're sober in the morning, yeah?" Soap made sure to enunciate, not wanting to hear any snide remarks about his accent from him. "I have things I need to do. Just sleep here." He grabbed Ghost, always careful to hold him with both hands and to his chest. The doll wasn't the largest thing and he was sure he could handle being dropped but... well, it just didn't feel right to do so.

Kent sat up. "What's that thing?"

Soap paused and mulled over his words. "Nothing too important. Just part of taking care of the house. I'll put it away real quick."

"Freak owner wants you to babysit his dolls?"

Soap felt himself bow up, gritting his teeth. Instead, he just bit that back as well. "Don't be so mean to the owner. He seems like a nice guy. Just go to sleep and don't throw up on the carpet." He fled the room, torn between wanting to scream at Kent or just beat him. Regardless, he didn't want to deal with him intoxicated at all so he'd wait until later.

Kent finally noticed Riley. "Thought you hated dogs."

"I do but she's a nice companion."

"You must have to vacuum constantly."

Soap paused and frowned. "What?"

"German Shepherds shed a lot unless you groom them regularly. Do you groom her?"

Soap knew fuck all about dogs, but as he thought about it, yeah, he had always heard people complain about how much shepherds shed and he hadn't groomed Riley once. A few hairs had been stuck to his palm after grooming, but her coat remained pristine. "No. Go to sleep."

Ghost went to his bed and received his little kiss on the forehead. Soap like always pulled the blankets up to the dolls chin and then patted him before leaving.

He didn't sleep well. Kept feeling like someone was standing over him.

Soap made breakfast, two plates sat side by side. It didn't really register until Kent was thanking him for cooking and scooping up his plate that he had a guest. Explaining that he had a weird arrangement with the thing living in his house seemed... well a bit insane. As much as he willingly followed the rules, he wasn't sure he wanted to explain them to anyone else. So he stayed quiet and silently apologized to Ghost.

Soap made himself coffee and a cup of tea that he purposely put out of Kent's sight. "So how did you find me?"

"Your mom. Johnny, this felt a bit extreme don't you think? I understand if you hate me. But ditching your whole family?"

Soap swung around, gripping the spoon in his hand like it was it was an actual weapon that could do damage. "Fuck you, Kent. You don't get to fuck around with other people, take advantage of the fact I lost my job, my career, my passion."

"Jesus, Johnny. You lost the military. Big fucking deal. It's better than if you got blown up out there."

"Would've preferred it to dealing with you."

Kent scowled and grabbed Ghost. "So what? You prefer sitting up here, playing dolls than being in the real world? Your family misses you and"

"They can keep missing me. I don't want to talk with them. I don't want to talk with you. And I really think it's best you leave."

Riley snorted and put herself between Soap's legs to heel. Despite her relaxed appearance and peaceful nature, not even hunting squirrels in her retirement, she was tensed up. Clearly ready to maul if just given the order.

"Riley, stay down girl." Soap lightly tapped his ankle against her side in a move he had seen the K-9 units at work use. "Kent, put the doll down. I think it's a sentimental thing for the owner."

"No. This is ridiculous. You sit up here, acting like this. For what? Some guy? You two fucking or something?"

"No, I haven't even met the guy, just put Ghost down." Soap could hear the desperation creeping into his voice.

Kent paused. "Ghost?"

If either of them bothered to stop and listen, they'd hear the creaking of the floorboards. Angry tapping on the walls.

Soap paused. "Yeah. The guy who hired me called him Ghost so I just started calling him that. Just put him down."

Riley left her heel and Soap almost panicked before seeing that she was standing by the mirror she loved.

Kent stared him, suddenly seeming a lot more hateful than he did just a moment ago. He then grabbed the doll and tore it along the inseam on the back.

Cotton fell out but so did scraps of cloth and something metal that hit the floor with a clunk.

Dogtags. Soap would recognize the sound anywhere. It made sense. Simon was probably ex military, same as Riley and Soap.

They sat on the floor next to the cotton and then there was another crack, this time of the glass on the mirror.

Kent whirled around, freezing for a moment. The lights ahead seemed to flicker, but that may have just been his imagination. Soap watched mutely as Kent went to the glass and touched it, following the cut. "Weird. Probably change in air pressure or so-"

A gloved hand smashed through the glass to grab him. Giant fingers pressed into his face as he slammed him into the frame of the mirror, letting him go and making him stagger.

Ghost shoved through the rest of the glass and leaned down to step through.

Big.

Soap pulled back, heart fluttering from fear. He watched this stranger with a skull mask just like Ghost's grab Kent and wrestle him to the floor effortless. Kent struggled but this man was a lot bigger and more importantly, better trained. He struck out and broke Ken's nose, blood splattering on the floor.

"Ghost!" Soap quickly tried to get his attention. The stranger faltered and looked up. Giant brown eyes looked at him. Prettiest eyes that Johnny had ever seen. "Stop."

Just as well trained as Riley, Ghost pulled back. He stepped on Kent's hand as he walked to Soap, staring down at him intensely.

Soap backed up into the kitchen island.

"Johnny." Ghost... purred. The name felt foreign on his tongue, but the response it got from Soap made it perfect.

"Simon?"

Ghost's eyes crinkled from smiling. "Yes. It's nice to finally meet you." He kept advancing until they were pressed against each other. Soap was taken back by the size difference but Ghost fixed that by leaning down. His mask face rubbed against his jaw and along his throat before... sniffing him.

Soap gripped the counter and took a deep breath. He wasn't afraid. Not one bit and honestly that should probably scare him or even just bother him but....It didn't. It didn't at all.

"Johnny." Ghost pressed tight against him, hands finding their way to his hips before sliding them under his shirt. "Thank you, thank you."

Soap wasn't sure what Ghost was thanking him for but before he could ask, he heard the dull thwack of something hitting Ghost's back.

There was a moment of silence before Ghost caught the poker on it's second swing. He glanced at Soap, clearly pleading.

"Go for it."

Watching Ghost beat Kent should've done something. Maybe he should've ran. But Soap had missed the violence and he did not miss Kent one bit.

Watching Ghost move was alluring as well and Soap felt a flush get to his cheeks as his body reacted. He should tell him to stop. Kent wasn't moving.

Soap let out a sharp gasp and Ghost turned his head back to him, blood splattering on his mask now.

"I'll be good." Simon promised. "Better than him. I'll be your good boy."

Johnny stared at him. "I know you will. My good boy, yeah?"

Simon let go of the poker from the fireplace, letting it slide. "Sunshine, do you mind giving us the room?"

Riley ran, knocked her head against his leg, and then quickly ran out. Tail wagging.

"You call her sunshine?"

"Course. She's my sunshine and you're my love." Simon said it so earnestly. So big and so hot and then he was pressing Soap against the island again. "Kiss?"

Soap swallowed and kissed his cheek, making Ghost whine. "Please... Please..." He tilted his head, making it clear what he wanted but letting Soap lean in. Their lips meet, the soft fabric between them getting in the way but Soap could still feel Ghost's lips moving against his own.

Simon pulled away, eyes hazing and adoring. Almost obsessive. He rubbed his cheek against Johnny's. "I'll be your good boy."

[lepoppeta]

For the song asks: Charlestor

charlastor/radiobelle has the benefit of relating to a lot of tropes and aesthetics in media that i already really enjoy and have a lot of content for. that being said, the songs ive chosen for them relate more to the pilot versions of these two characters, where it was speculated that alastor was going to be more of a mysterious, unflappable background mentor figure. ive heard their relationship being compared to that of clarice starling and hannibal lecter from silence of the lambs and hannibal, and i think some of that can vibe definitely be used here.

the first song that ever came to mind for these two (in recent memory) was a dangerous game from the jekyll and hyde musical (sung by anthony warlow and linda eder).

at the touch of your hand, and the sound of your voice, at the moment your eyes meet mine - i am out of my mind, i am out of control, full of feelings i cant define.

its a sin with no name, like a tiger to tame, (and though no-ones to blame) its a crime and a shame, and the angels proclaim its a dangerous game.

im a bit of a sucker for melodramatic gothic musicals, and the vision this song brings to mind is charlie wandering the empty halls of her dilapidated hotel and cautiously dancing with alastor and his army of half-sentient shadows. it relates to charlies pov more than alastors (as in this case he would be singing about her) and how they would have to tread carefully no matter what kind of close relationship they choose to partake in.

next up is me and mr wolf (the real tuesday weld).

you have the thing i love but the fear in me is way too much. if i open wide one of us may get lost inside. me or you, one of us is going to need to die.

my favourite version of this relationship is them being mutually fucked - alastor has never really given much thought to romantic love and hes shocked that hes willing to break so many of his own rules for this silly little slice of heaven in hell; charlie responds well to alastor setting clear boundaries against her sometimes-invasive behavior, and, like any good theatre kid, he "yes-and"s her (instead of vaggies pretty consistent "no"s). however, this song also touches on the fact that charlie is (or should be) at least alastors equal in power, if not far beyond him, and its a warning that neither of them should overstep in either love or anger.

the last one ill leave you with is actually one that was made canon by helluva - its look my way (paranoid DJ, but the alternate version sung by bryce pinkham) and its a bit of an ooc situation from alastors point of view.

unless its me, and no matter what in this world i could give - its not enough to get through the walls youve conjured up to live. is this what you feel? scorned by a world that cannot comprehend what you are, so ill grant you this mercy - this bind on our souls needs to end.

this is taking into account the deal that charlie makes with alastor in the penultimate episode of the first season of hazbin. the idea is that alastor (or at least, the speculative pilot version of alastor) strongly admires charlies perseverance against her own people - the very beings shes trying so hard to save. while charlie is a relatively open book he knows that she probably doesnt let anyone, not even her own girlfriend/best friend, see the emotional toll this project has taken on her (again, this tying in more to the pilot personalities of these characters), and hes upset that her deal with him has only made things worse in that regard. he makes the choice, to his own detriment, to sever the deal without her knowledge, so that if she doesnt keep her end of the bargain it will be of no consequence to her.

[anarchyrpbook]

FALLOUT (TV SERIES, 2024): Episode Four Feel free to edit the sentences, places, pronouns, etc, as you need. NSFW TW: Mentions of violence, death, sex trafficking, drugs, cannibalism

“[name]... my name is [name.]”

“Hey! Fancy seeing you out here.”

“You out for that bounty too, huh?”

“You know… It’s hard out here.”

“You - you don’t happen to have any vials do you?”

“I’m sorry, [name.] I’m all out.”

“You might want to clear out, before things get ugly.”

“You’ve outlasted us all.”

“Say… Do you remember how good food used to taste?”

“Sometimes, a fella's gotta eat a fella.”

“Well, there’s what people say they did, and what they really did.”

“How do you live like this? Why keep going?”

“Well, one good question deserves another, why the fuck am I doing all the work?”

“Now come on, [nickname], ass jerky don’t make itself.”

“You don’t like it when people get upset.”

“Regular boys… can get just angry and they’ll pee on the wall. When clever boys like you get angry… You’re lucky to not have seen where that can lead.”

“Just tread lightly, that’s all I ask.”

“How does that Golden Rule jibe with what’s going through your head right now?”

“What are you?”

“Oh, I’m you, sweetie. You just… give it a little time.”

“There you are, you little killer.”

“Now, that right there is the closest thing we’ve had to an honest exchange so far.”

“I just thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

“Not great, to be honest.”

“How are you handing the, uh, death of the father of your unborn baby?”

“Those monsters took him away from me.”

“Now, that is one wet lady.”

“You’re selling me?”

“You got problems out here, too, sweetheart. Best you try your luck behind that door.”

“What the fudge?”

“Fudge? There’s no fudge here.”

“Ah, that won’t do at all. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“He did not treat me very courteously.”

“I thought I was here to be a sex slave.”

“What? No, what a simply disgusting idea.”

“I’m simply going to harvest your organs.”

“I don’t know what the people of [location] were up to, but it was anything but innocent.”

“Feel like getting out of the house?”

“Then why did you come?”

“You don’t think it’s because you’re still in love with my sister, and being around me reminds you of her?”

“This is so wrong.”

“Whatever happened here, happened a long time ago.”

“Looks like they strangled each other, with their hands.”

“I am ever-ready to serve.”

“Come on, I know there’s someone in there, talk to me.”

“You don’t get these, you turn into one of those? That how it works?”

“I may end up looking like you, but I’ll never be like you.”

“Golden rule, motherfucker.”

“I’d love to share some of this with y’all but y’all weren’t invited to this party.”

“I hope you like the taste of lead, you [commie] son of a bitch.”

[ticklishsquish]

READ ME

hello !

🏳️‍🌈 friendly tickle blog here !!

You have stumbled upon an anxious switch.. rejoiceee

RULES FOR MY BLOG

Please do not follow me if your bio is :

-Ageless

-Completely blank (no profile picture and/or posts or even bio)

-Homophobic, transphobic or in support of LGBTQ abuse.

ABOUT ME

Hello! This is my general summary- I am a 21 year old trans-female. I have ADHD and other mental health issues.You can call me Squishy or Evelyn! A lot of you know me by squishy.

I am a strong introvert , but I can switch if i’m talking to the right person/ or about a specific topic.

-I value communication - please be very blunt with me ( especially if i’m doing something i’m uncomfortable with . during NOT after)

- I am into anime as well as the manga associated,and am slowly getting into other things! ( I wanna start practicing guitar soon!).

-I have graduated College!

TICKLING INFO (More info at the bottom!)

-I want to make this absolutely clear- tickling can be both a fetish and for fun.

-For that reason tread lightly in my posts . I will not repost fully naked people , or things related to sexual activity tho. Maybe one or two horny posts but

I am a lee-leaning switch who has been in the online tickling community for years :3

Please give me reassurance! Especially if i’m the lee or ler. I like to know i’m making it fun for both of those.

-If I had to say a couple of extra things, it is that feet are my favorite things to tickle ! ( I like footsies for a couple of reasons, and yes I mean feet that are clean duh)

My favorite style of tickles are ticklish kisses/noms

-I like being gentle with tickles mostly . I’m getting worse at lering maybe but i like to think i’m amazing at teasing

-Belly Button is off limits, I am not a fan of them at all - sorry

-I do not usually do revenge tickles , it’s my biggest pet peeve to be forced into giving.

- I don’t like really talking about characters from tv shows / movies getting tickles (regardless of gender) . It will be on an ask Basis

TICKLE ROLEPLAY RULES

I am adding this section for future interactions, I have a really good imagination so I like roleplaying. It also gives me a chance to interact you with you directly

Please tell me if the way i’m tickling you ( or area) is making you uncomfortable. I’ve had issues where people tell me afterwards and it makes me pretty frustrated .

-I use * * so just as an fyi if your expecting more your sorely mistaken

-I will rp with anyone regardless of gender but be respectful

-I am not one for intricate plots, I do this for fun so

-I do NOT do plots that involve us being partners , girlfriend/boyfriend or being high/ drinking

-I actually just prefer going with the flow

-You can ask prior if you are allowed to tickle certain areas if your unsure

-Don’t do tickle machines

If you just use * giggles* *laughs* or *tickles you* , at least try to include detail.

Thank you for reading !!

Credit for below form

i know my template is kinda fucked up , don’t worry about it /hj

[olderthannetfic]

You have too many posts for me to go through and see if it's been talked about before, so apologies if I'm treading old ground here, but what are your thoughts on adding "incest" as a major archive warning? I'd personally like to have an easier way to filter out incest, especially in fandoms with fandom specific tags (BLMatsu comes to mind).

I could see it being used in the same vein as the rape/non-con tag, where people use it to be overly cautious of any consent issues, or in an AU where the characters aren't related, which are both things which could be clarified by additional tags. Which would help increase the sensitivity of the tag filters for people who don't want anything to do with it.

I say this because I feel like incest, much like rape and underage, can evoke that immediate "nope!" response that could warrant a major warning. It would also be relatively easy to look at a ship and go "yes they're related-please tag", or "not considered incest in this culture (ie. some cousin incest)-tag preferred but optional" in the same vein as "A is 18 and B is 17 and 11 months-underage tag optional but preferred"

Obviously, as it's something I would like to see, I can see way more benefits to doing this than not. Are there any major reasons (other than time/cost) that you think this would be a bad or inadvisable idea? Issues to iron out?

--

My thoughts are: "Too bad for you".

The main archive warnings were picked based on:

What was widespread on other archives of the past

What was easy to enforce

Keeping the list very short so it did not place an undue burden on posters

Incest is something that should be guessable from the ship. It's also culturally defined and annoying to enforce. You think it's easy to decide when first cousin ships count?!

There's no chance it's going to get added as a mandatory archive warning.

Increasing the sensitivity of the tag filters is not a priority of AO3. Being pretty okay for a wide swath of fandom, from people who like lots of warnings to people who like literally no warnings, was the aim.

If B is 17 and 11 months and you go out of your way to point this out in the fic, the underage tag is required if they're fucking on page. Under 18. That's the rule.

--

The main drawback of any mandatory labeling is that having to think about metadata is always a burden on the poster. It may not always outweigh other concerns, but the more you make people think about their headers/tags/etc., the more of a chilling effect that has on people posting at all.

[socialist-microwave-laser]

maybe it's the cynic in me but i feel like people are celebrating wayyyyy too soon about tucker carlson no longer being on fox news and i'm asking y'all to tread very lightly for a few reasons:

we still don't know who terminated the agreement and why

now yes, it was a very sudden end, on friday evening tc apparently said he'll be back monday. but even if fox was the catalyst, that doesn't mean they suddenly got a moral backbone, or they'll stop showing a bunch of nazi shit on their platform. tc was raking in millions of dollars a night. if he's being scapegoated, that's an expensive fucking scapegoat. if he's been deemed a liability, the settlement money was just a drop in the bucket for the amount of money they make—not nearly large enough to dissuade them from doing this again. corporations exist to make money, and if the fox news people had any moral backbone it wouldn't have been some lawsuit that made them suddenly remember its existence

(i also want to add that i wouldn't be surprised if tc was trying to pull a matt walsh here and complain that fox was changing some rules internally, or maybe moving some money around, and tc was pissed enough that he walked away. given the amount of money this man raked in a night, this is incredibly plausible imo)

we don't know where fox news is going to go from here

we're talking about a corporation run by a bunch of people who were willing to (allegedly) incite and facilitate an attempted coup because it was making them money. we're also talking about a corporation that just lost one of their most prominent guys, who, and i'm gonna keep beating this dead horse, raked in millions of dollars a night. they're not just gonna throw their hands up in the air and decide they're going to become centrists. they're replacing this time slot with a rotating cast of members, and there's going to be a vacuum in the fox news space. they're going to start looking for someone to say the quiet parts out loud starting yesterday

(side note that i think it will be interesting to see them try to divorce the tc persona from the person in order to maintain it on their network)

we don't know where tucker carlson is going to go from here

people weren't tuning in to watch tc scream himself red in the face because they just love supporting fox news; they were tuning in to watch tucker carlson. and we'd be kidding ourselves if we thought otherwise, and if we thought tc thought otherwise. this man holds a massive amount of rhetorical leverage, he has the ears of over four million usamericans a night. he's not going to throw in the towel because he lost his fancy tv show slot. i've been keeping an eye on the regular forums and already his fans are coming up with conspiracies about fox news being a bunch of shills, censoring him, etc etc etc. he still has two legs, a lot of money, and a shit ton of supporters to stand on. and if he wants, he can suddenly say a whole lot more stuff now that he's not on prime time television anymore

we don't know where the fans are going to go from here

let's entertain the hypothetical that fox news is now going to be a center-right organization and tc is going to fade into the ether. that doesn't mean all those viewers and fans are going to follow suit. that's not how propaganda works. a vacuum needs filling, and this audience wants to keep hearing the same stuff. in the absence of a fox news and tucker carlson, they're going to search elsewhere for someone to watch. where are they going to go, parler? the place that has holocaust deniers on the home page on a good day? is that a loss for the radicalization pipeline?

i'm not saying not to celebrate or laugh or post memes or feel relieved or whatever. i also feel that way! but i also feel like this is an historic turning point for the course of the alt right and the united states as a whole, and we can't lose ourselves in our celebration and go to brunch because racism is solved. we need to be on guard these next few days. if you have loved ones who loved fox news, keep an eye on them (if that would be safe for you). i'm also going to throw our a quick "be safe" for everyone in jewish communities, it'll only be a hop skip and a jump for a lot of these people to come to the conclusion that someone (triple echo included) is behind this, and they probably won't be wanting to give them flowers. much love y'all, remember to drink some water

[12thperigeeball]

Psst, Hey. Hey you. You like suggesting things, right?

WELL DO WE HAVE A OPPORTUNITY FOR YOU!

As you are all aware, the last few balls we've ran had prompts that trolls could dress to match. This year, we're putting the power of the prompts in YOUR hands, and we're going to allow users to suggest their own prompts for the community to vote on!

We've opened up a google form to collect theme ideas from the community, and it's open ended with no need to log in. You will be able to see the prompts submitted after you input yours, and there's also a dud option so you can view the results without having to actually suggest anything yourself.

Previous year prompts was 'Crystallize' theme of 2021, and then 'Art of War' of 2022. Your prompts do not have to match the theme of previous years, but we do request that we not tread across old ground.

We will take suggestions from Oct 25th until Oct 30th at 7PM. We will then process the suggestions and create a poll to vote on them to be released Oct 31st, and then close the poll on Nov 3rd at 7PM.

So what are you waiting for? Go ahead and suggest your prompts!

Rules copy pasted below:

Prompt Names must be short and sweet. We're not naming things like Panic at the Disco names songs.

Obviously no offensive suggestions or suggestions referencing offensive scenarios, such as war crimes or closed cultural practices, or weirdly specific 'japanese high school' prompts. I will hunt you for sport if you start coming in with dogwhistles. This is a no fucking brainer rule.

Please include a brief description of your prompt and what it might entail, perhaps even an art style. This ideally should be a sentence long, not a paragraph. If you don't feel confident in your summarization skills but have a moodboard, we can assist in writing a brief description if you leave your prompt name and no further summary. Example: Early Spring would be Florals, plant-like, art nouveau. Art of War is fashionable armor, historical art, 'when you have to swordfight a rival general at 6 but have a ball function at 6:30.

Make your prompt clear. Inside jokes or subtle themes might be fun in theory, but they don't make for interesting, creative, or easy to interpret and bend prompts. Be mindful of the fact that not everyone will follow this prompt or may interpret it much differently than you would expect.

Similar prompts may be condensed at the end. Three different suggestions for cyberpunk will just be merged into one cyberpunk prompt to help prevent confusion or split votes

You may create a moodboard or Pinterest board for your theme to showcase. Similar prompts will be condensed into a singular moodboard or pinterest board for people to view. This is not a required step.

Have fun! Don't get too worried about making anything perfect, or winning. NOTE: We do reserve the right to reword certain prompts to create a more unique theme or theme name if we are provided vague prompts. A general 'Glamorous, Gold and Money' suggestion may be modified and narrowed down to an Art Deco Glamour prompt to make it unique and more directional