#WILL HE COOOOM??

[internet-rat]

Illumi x spouse (any POV)

Jerking him off + fluff

NSFW below cut

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You were attempting to sneak up on your assassin husband while he was in his needle workshop. He was crafting new needles with his deft hands. And he was wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt while standing over his work. The casual clothes only made him look more enticing. You could see the outline of his round, firm ass through his sweatpants. You simply had to try and sneak up on him and give his butt a squeeze.

Despite the stealthiness of your approach, it was clear Illumi was aware of your presence moments before you reached him; whether it was the slight shift in air or just an assassin's intuition, he didn't startle at the sudden squeeze. Instead, Illumi stood still, allowing the intimacy of the moment without resistance.

"You're awake," he stated, a hint of amusement coloring his usually monotone voice. He turned around to face you, his hair cascading over his shoulders and his dark eyes scanning your features.

"You seem to have taken a liking to these... sweatpants," he commented, the slightest inflection in his voice making it sound like he was almost teasing you. His hand came up to rest atop yours, still on his firm buttocks, acknowledging your touch and perhaps inviting it.

"They do look good on you," you whisper teasingly as you lean against his back and let one of your hands squeeze his bulge.

Illumi didn't move as you pressed against him, your body's warmth contrasting with the cool ambiance of his workshop. His breathing remained steady and controlled, yet there was something in the way he tilted his head ever so slightly, giving you silent, unspoken permission to continue.

"Is that so?" His voice was a mere whisper, betraying no hint of the swirling undercurrents that your actions stirred within him. You could feel the muscles of his back tense against you as your hand ventured forward.

As your hand made contact with his growing bulge, Illumi's body stiffened for a moment—a rare reaction from someone who typically held unyielding control over his physical responses. "You're rather bold this morning," he observed, his voice still holding that same neutral tone, but his eyes, dark and fathomless, flickered with a spark of something more primal.

A soft yet calculating smile seemed to ghost across his lips, a subtle indication that your actions were having their desired effect. "It appears that today, my attention will be required here, with you," Illumi continued, turning his head slightly to lock eyes with you, a silent acknowledgement of the intimacy you've initiated. His hand, the one atop yours, pressed your palm deeper against his firmness, indicating not just his acceptance, but his desire for your continued exploration.

You knew he needed your touch. It was not something he would always outright say, because he was used to burying his own needs. But you felt it. You leaned against his back, using your free hand to caress one of his voluminous pecs, playing with his nipple. The other stroked his bulge through his sweatpants. You stood on your toes, your head on his shoulder. You spoke softly. "Let me take care of you, Lumi..."

The almost imperceptible tightening of Illumi's jaw was the only sign of his response to your caress, the sensation of your fingertips playing with his nipple sending a rare shiver through his usually impassive frame. You could sense a subdued current of anticipation coursing through him, a rare glimpse of vulnerability.

"Take care...?" he echoed, the words laced with a nuanced understanding. He was accustomed to taking care of everything and everyone else—completing contracts, fulfilling missions, ensuring his family's dominion, caring for his siblings. Yet, here in your tender grasp, Illumi found himself in the unusual position of being the one cared for, a sentiment that both confounded and intrigued him.

With a slow pivot of his body, he turned to face you, his eyes taking on a subtle glint as they roved over the sight of you in your silk nightgown. The garment accentuated your form, a vision that he found provocatively appealing.

Illumi's hand rose to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek in a manner that could almost be considered affectionate. "You wish to look after me, then proceed," he said, his voice low and smooth like the slide of silk against skin. It was an invitation, a concession of his need for your touch, cloaked in the guise of granting permission.

Standing before you, Illumi's controlled exterior wavered, allowing you to witness the subtle signs of his desire: the faint rise and fall of his chest, the slight dilation of his pupils, the faintest tremor in the hand that now wandered from your cheek down to the dip of your waist. It was an admission without words, a silent plea for the care you offered.

You admired the slight blush that tinted his pale cheeks. Gently placing your hands on his hips, you made him sit on the empty space of his workbench. The shift from standing to sitting didn't affect Illumi's composure; he observed every movement, allowing your hands to guide him. He sat on the edge of the workbench with an assassin's grace, every action performed with lethal precision now used to silently acquiesce to your ministrations.

When your lips met his, he was still for just a fraction of a second before he reciprocated, his mouth moving against yours with a slow, almost careful exploration. The stark contrast between his usually detached demeanor and this display of subtle passion could not have been more profound.

You deftly freed his length, and the touch of your hand elicited a faint, almost imperceptible hitch in his breathing. Illumi's eyelids fluttered closed at the sensation, a sign of his surrender to the pleasure you provided. His cock, already firm and leaking, throbbed against your grasp, demanding attention that he himself would never vocally request.

The room was filled with the sound of your joined breathing and the soft, slick rhythmic sounds as you stroked him. Illumi's head tilted back ever so slightly, exposing the column of his pale throat, a silent testament to the effect you had on him. For once, his perfect control wavered under the weight of his body's raw, honest response to your touch.

You moved to kiss and suck his neck while your hand stroked his cock. Using your free hand, you squeezed his thigh. You whispered against his neck. "That's it... Let me take care of you, my pretty boy..."

The term of endearment, spoken so tenderly against the sensitive skin of his neck, seemed to reach Illumi on a level far deeper than the physical contact. His throat vibrated with a restrained sound that was neither a groan nor a sigh but something in between—an audible release of the tension he often kept tightly wound within him.

As you lavished affection on his neck, his muscles tensed in response to the dual sensations of your whisper and your hand's movements on his aroused flesh. The hand on his thigh felt both grounding and provocative, a combination that only you could elicit from him. A rare, discernible shudder traveled through Illumi's body—a visceral reaction to the intensity of your care.

You kept kissing his neck and stroking his cock. It was wet with his precum, allowing you to stroke faster, applying just the right amount of pressure you knew he needed. You spoke softly against his neck. "Let go... Make your cute noises for me... Don't hold back."

The coaxing whisper against his skin, paired with the rhythmic strokes of your hand, finally started to unravel Illumi's armored restraint. His breathing, once measured and controlled, quickened. He allowed the smallest of sounds to escape his lips—a soft, almost inaudible moan that acknowledged the intensity of his pleasure.

As your strokes grew more fervent, Illumi's hand found its way to your hair, his fingers threading through the strands without pulling or guiding, merely seeking a physical connection. The intimacy of your actions and words coaxed more of those rare sounds from him, each one a small victory against his usual silence.

Illumi's usually impassive face was now adorned with a faint flush, and his dark eyes, half-lidded, focused intently on you as if you were both the architect of his undoing and the anchor keeping him moored in the storm of sensation you were expertly eliciting from him.

"Louder. Let me hear that pretty voice," you command softly before giving his neck a soft bite.

Under the insistence of your dominant tone, Illumi's self-imposed silence cracked further. The bite, a delicate sting against his pale skin, elicited a sharper moan from his lips—louder, as per your command, and laden with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

Your hand moved over him with a swiftness that drew out the sultry sounds you so desired. The pleasure was clear not only in the noises he made but in the tension of his muscles, the grip in your hair tightening just a fraction—not enough to hurt, but enough to convey the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. His cock was getting slippery from his own precum. It was hard and twitching desperately into your hand.

You heard him make an especially cute loud moan, and knew he was close. You kept stroking him and kissed him on the lips, letting your tongue fuck his mouth until you made him breathless. When you pulled away from the kiss you used your free hand to pull at his hair, so you could kiss and suck on his neck. Then you commanded him. "Cum for me, my darling..."

The words were the final catalyst, and Illumi's control shattered. A gasp caught in his throat, and the tension that had wound him so tight broke, sending waves of pleasure radiating through him. He came at your command, his seed spilling warmly over your hand in rhythmic pulses, each one accompanied by a breathy echo of your name, a mantra of his surrender to the intimate care you provided. You did not stop stroking him until he was completely drained. You knew when to stop because he trembled and whimpered "Ah~ s-stop, y/n... It is so sensitive..." That was when you stepped even closer between his legs where he was sitting on the bench and you gently hugged him.

As he sat on the edge of the workbench, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of release, Illumi allowed himself to be enveloped in your embrace. He seemed to melt into you, a rare sight of surrender from the composed assassin. His long arms, so often instruments of death, wrapped around you with a careful tenderness.

You spoke softly. "I love you, Lumi..." The words resonated within him, stirring something profound and inexpressible.

"I... know," was all he managed, a brief utterance spoken against your hair. Though he might not say the words back, not yet versed in the language of love, the sentiment was there, raw and real, in the way he held you close.

His body relaxed against yours, the steady beat of his heart audible in the quiet of the room, syncing with yours in a silent duet. There was solace to be found in the warmth of your bodies, an unspoken promise that no matter how dark his world might be, he would always seek the light you provided.

[ghostsinthecellar]

hey. psst. hey. buy my dragons.

[hayhaythebay]

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 ENDING!

Okay but like at the end of season two he literally did the most out of character thing which was take a bullet for Usagi, this man literally said that he wanted to do something out of character and that he wanted to change, so like is it REALLY that out of character for him to call his partner baby ( or in my preference babygirl?) I'm just sayiiiiiing

ALSO YES LEAVE WRITERS ALONE IF YOU SEE AS CRINGEY OR OUT OF CHARACTER JUST SCROLL AWAY!!! 😤

“chishiya wouldn’t call you baby” blah blah blah idc it’s called FANFIC for a reason. you think i don’t know that given the fuck chance i was in the show that this man would give me the time of day? i KNOW he wouldn’t!!! but that’s the fun part about writing is that myself and others can embrace our wildest fantasies. yes he’s the worlds most emotionally unavailable man and yes i’m still gonna write for him in whatever way i fucking see fit. leave writers alone

[princessbrunette]

i feel like puppy reader would be so busy while johnbee eats her out. like omfg she’s def a face humper

˚ ༘ 🦴⋆🤍｡˚

he knows this about you, so he fully anticipates it.

every buck of the hips is met with john b pushing them back down to the bed. he lifts his head only slightly, looking up through his lashes to throw you a warning look.

“keep it calm, puppy. you’re letting me take care of you right now okay?” he croons in a calming voice to try and keep you on the more docile side — however, john b being just so patient and dominant only excites you more, causing you to continue with your antics a mere minute later. “down girl, coooome on.” he chides as he spreads your folds — your voice breaking with each whine.

“can’t stay still, daddy!” you breathe out, wriggling. feeling he has no choice, he lays a strong arm across your lower stomach keeping you pinned to the bed.

“need me to hold you down? hm?” he tilts his head, almost sarcastically but you can see the overwhelming amounts of love in his eyes.

“yes.” you admit through grit teeth, still trying your best to squirm. he takes note of this, realising that you maybe needed a moment to get calm. he swaps out his mouth for some coarse fingers, sliding through your folds and sinking into your hole with ease making you melt into the sheets.

“i think someone is a little wound up from the day. we’re juuust gonna keep it like this… until you can take it again.” he kisses your lower stomach, watching you suck in deep breaths.

“i’m sor—” you go to apologise but he cuts you off with a kind shake of his head.

“nope, no… no apologising sweetheart. just breathe… and let me help you feel good.”

˚ ༘ 🦴⋆🤍｡˚

[getonite]

YOU KNOW I LOOK TOO GOOD TO NOT BE HIDEOUS!

( synop. the voice inside of dazai's head swallows him whole ) contains. 1.8k+ wc — gn!reader ; dazai angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers ( hinted ), dazai gets a hug, alcoholism, drunk!dazai, pre-ada but post-pm, mention of vomit, dazai has a panic attack + cries, implied sh scars. ( the author is back on their torturing dazai bit ; this song literally belongs to him, okay. kinda pt2 to my prev dazai fic. )

"Dazai . . . "

"Dazai."

"OSAMU!"

Dazai twitches, awakened by the familiar sound of a yelling voice. "Huh?" his voice slurs as he sits up slowly, his body clearly in pain. You sniff, groaning the thick smell of alcohol stuck in his clothes. "Don't yell, hangover . . . " he grumbles. "Or maybe I'm still drunk."

"Get up," you say firmly, looking down at his slumped body resting against the wall.

He must've been downing drinks last night, though, at least not to the point where he couldn't figure his way home. Though, it seems he couldn't get into the house as his keys are resting in his hand and he's sitting onto the concrete next to the door.

"Huh? Wha—What, I'm getting- huh?"

You sigh and loop your arm underneath his, carefully pulling him inside of the house. You carefully grab the keys and set them on the rack near the door. Dazai let's out a drunken giggle as you pat him down, making sure that everything he left with is still with him.

"You are so fucking irresponsible," you hiss, tugging Oda's coat off of his lanky body. After forcing him to sit down, you walk to the kitchen to get him a much needed glass of water.

"Oh, coooome on," he hiccups, "You love me though.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, "Your lucky no one found you black out drunk like that and stole your shit. Or worse, killed you." You emphasize your woods, setting the cup ( you don't trust him with a glass ) of water in front of him. "Or have you forgotten, you just left the Port Mafia?"

Dazai sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes at your statement.

After months of hiding, you'd think he'd get it. Maybe that he'd follow suit of you. Stay low, stay quiet, and say lawful. Apparently not. He can't even stay clean.

There's a thought of wanting to punch him, maybe it'll knock some sense into him you think. Taking a deep breath, you bend down, slipping off his shoes and putting them next to the door. "Drink your water, please," you grunt," I'll run you a bath."

"Mhm~!" Dazai sings. He's been mumbling and humming tunes, kicking his feet as you attempt to clean him up.

After a couple of minutes, you walk down the hallway toward him, "Alright, c'mon!" Dazai giggles, hurriedly getting up from his seat. Though you see the scene happen in slow motion. As if he had low iron ( which he probably does ), the blood rushed down towards his feet and he immediately stumbles, hanging onto the table as he tries to gain his bearings.

"Osam—" you pause when you see his puffed cheeks. You sigh and dash for the small trashcan in the bathroom and hold it below his mouth. And a second later, you hear the gross sound of vomit.

You rub his back, waiting for him to finish before you even attempt to bring him to the bathroom. You almost gag as you bring him carefully to the bathroom and strip his clothes, unraveling his bandages as well.

A wave of both guilt and disappointment passes through you as you see him flop into the filled bathtub. He's thin. New scars have appeared a top the old and ( incorrectly ) healed ones. He's too pale, his hair is back to the state it was when he first appeared, and he reeks of the bar. Even after your efforts, it seems as if you can't get him out of this slump. "Osamu . . . "

Dazai lifts his head, silently responding to your voice. All of the mumbling, sound effects, and humming are stopped as you carefully clean his skin.

"What is going on with you?" There's a deep frown on your face as you inspect his forearm. "No matter how much I try, you only clean yourself up when I make you."

"I work, you sit in a bar, come home and plop yourself on the couch without a fucking word," you hiss. Dazai flinches, though your not sure if it's your voice, or your movements. Regardless, a sense of guilt floods you and you take a deep breath.

"What is it?" You pause and look at him, "I know you're still recovering from Oda, I understand grief. But you refuse to talk about it and then drown yourself in alcohol, no matter what I do."

There's attempt to keep your voice calm and level, though he can hear it. The underlying emotions of annoyance, worry, and disbelief.

His eyes are downcast, focused on the water covering his lower half. They're dazed, pupils dilating as they stay focused on the one spot. "Osamu?" You frown, eyes flickering to study his face. Your face falls when you hear the quiet sound of his breathing.

His chest shakes as he breathing increases, his jaw shaking in an attempt to say words.

"Oh . . . Osamu," you mumble as tears swell in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and onto the arms resting in his lap. His arm flinches at the sting of the salty tear to the cuts on them.

You carefully get into the bathtub fully clothed behind him. He feels the warmth of your skin touch his as you carefully grab onto him, holding him close with pressure on his chest from your arms. "You're alright, I promise. It's okay," you whisper. His trembling hands touch your arms.

The silent tears continue to fall, the sound of the drops hitting the water, and his ragged breathing fill the air.

"Hey," you whisper, "Can you do something for me? The bathroom is kind of bland, but can you point out 5 things you see?" Dazai gulps, your voice sounding distant despite how you're hugged to him. Nevertheless, his eyes dart around the room, he attempts to find something to grab onto to.

His jaw ticks, "The- The shampoo," he croaks. You nod with a small smile growing on your face, "Good. It's okay, try to breathe," your hand rests against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. "Tell me some more . . . "

Dazai sniffs, chest stuttering rapidly, "Your— s-s- sweatpants." His grip tightens on your arm as more tears slide down his face. "That's it, can you give me another one?"

"The," he gulps, "Clock."

"Come on, you got it. Can you give me another one?"

His lips tremble, teeth clacking together in an uncomfortable pace. He sucks in a breath, vision fuzzy as he focuses on your voice. "Uhh, the toilet," he whimpers, glossy tears clouding his view before they spill. You nod, "Good job, one more."

Dazai squeezes his eyes shut before blinking, to search for something else. "Soap, the soap."

You help him attempt to breathe, "Good. Now breath, just feel the way my chest is moving."

For the next few minutes, you talk him through the 5-4-3-2-1 method until he's relaxed in your hold. The water has gone cold, and the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes cling to your skin. "How about . . . " you start, "I clean you up, then we judge what to do hm? You just— you need a good bath and some food."

Dazai nods silently. He's not entirely in the room. His eyes are unfocused as he feels your careful hands gliding along his skin, though everything feels muffled to him, the room beginning to blur once more before your hand slightly pulls him from his disassociate state.

You pull him from the tub, drying him off, cleaning his arms and legs, wrapping his wounds in bandages, and cutting his hair again. ( Making sure he brushes his teeth )

No matter how many times he attempts to tune in on your voice, he can't do it. Nor can he focus on anything. His hands don't feel like his hands. The table doesn't feel like it's familiar texture. The room doesn't smell right. He doesn't sink into the seat correctly. And the chopsticks send tingles through his hand. None of it feels real.

He feels your warm hand touching the back of his neck. "Breathe," you whisper, "Touch it again. Hold it and breathe, it'll feel right."

His world is fuzzy, except the static quiets when you touch him. He slowly eats, the entire time with you keeping a warm hand on him.

Dazai starts to wake up as you carry him to the bed, pulling him into your embrace. There's silence throughout the room, not a sound unleashed to part the quiet atmosphere. Well, until you speak. "Osamu . . . " you whisper, fingers dancing in his head of curls as you carefully think of what to say. "I love you."

The man's eyes widen at your soft words. "No matter which way you choose to interpret that. I do."

"Which is why I have this urge to take care of you. It's what drives to clean up your empty bottles and canned food. And it drives to wonder what can I do to help you?"

Dazai gulps, his fingers entangled in the fabric of your new shirt.

"Your two years of hiding are almost over," you whisper, "Im selfish, you've known that since we were kids. So please, just promise me something. I don't need your thoughts, your feelings, nothing. Just two words."

"Hm?" Dazai looks up at you, having a feeling as to what you'll say.

"I'll sound cringe," you roll your eyes with a faint smile on your face, "but—promise me you'll tell me when you feel like your falling again. Doesn't matter how much I have to do it, I'll pick you back up. Cut your hair, change your bandages, whatever. I just—I hate seeing you like that. You just have to tell me."

Dazai remains silent, simply laying against you.

"I sorry," he whispers. You sigh, "Don't say sorry, just promise. I said I'd protect you when we were little, I mean that, even if you are older than me ( by a year ). I just need you to promise."

"I promise," he whispers.

You smile and mess with the small hairs on the back of his neck. "Good."

A faint smile appears on Dazai's face, one you can't see of course. "Well, first order of buisness," you speak. Dazai frowns, looking up at you.

"You're banned from all bars."

"Hey!" Dazai shrieks, shooting up to look down at you.

"You throw up on me, I'll kill you," you say firmly.

"Thought you were supposed to protect me," Dazai frowns, with a teasing verse.

"I can knock some sense into you."

"Asshole."

"Mhm," you hum, pulling him back on top of you, making sure he's comfortable beneath the sheets. "Also . . . " He mumbles.

"You love me?"

A couple of months later, you walk with Dazai to the four-story building of your workplace. Before the man can even open his mouth as you walk through the door, "Do not flirt with her."

Dazai whines as you drag him upstairs and to a door that reads 'Armed Detective Agency.'

A hum leaves your lips as you walk in, lugging Dazai along by his collar. Your eyes drift to a grey-haired man in traditional Japanese clothing, a green haori draped over his kimono.

You throw Dazai forward, walking to the side of him.

"President, this is the one I was talking about."

the ending was kind of ass. i think i lost the concept a bit lol. i hope you appreciate this a little. reblogs r appreciated!!

[threepandas]

Bad End: Superior

When you join the military, there's a certain level of assumed risk. You're already aware that they're probably going to ask you to do things. Some of which? You might not be cool with. Internally, you have to decide where you'll be drawing the line. Where "just following orders" fucking ENDS. Especially, when, you join the military... and they assign you someplace that dumps a stack of NDAs in front of you to sign.

That stack had been about as big as a toddler.

And then... then there WERE toddlers. A compound. Deep in the ass pit of no where. Technology so cutting edge, I'm genuinely surprised it doesn't bleed people to turn on. The project? Fucking Super Soldiers.

Because of COURSE it would be.

Fuck Ethics, am I right? Rights? Those are for government officials! Now follow orders and shut up, or we'll direct your attention to the miles of uninterrupted wilderness, in which NO ONE WILL EVER FIND YOU. But, hey! You can't technically call us monsters! We're PAYING you~!

So obviously it's YOUR fault!

Every day. Every SINGLE DAY. I felt sick.

This isn't what I signed up for. How the HELL does this protect anybody? Serve ANYBODY? I felt unclean. Lost weight. My sleep cycle was a wreck. I... I couldn't fucking DO this, and it SHOWED.

I was clearly the weak link.

While others settled in? I got tense. Worn down. Sick. My contract stated I HAD to finish my rotation, so that's what was going to happen. And if the medic had to put me on sleep meds? So be it. If I had to take anti-anxiety pills? Down the hatch. Everything was shit and I FELT like shit.

I should have bagged groceries, fuck "better pay".

The guys here? Were so, SO shitty to the Soldiers. Like it was THEIR fault they might replace us. Like they even WANTED too or were give a fucking CHOICE. I had no idea how any of this was legal. Was pretty sure it WASN'T. I just... I just wanted OUT.

Room to breathe. To process my fucking horror, you know?

Instead? Day after day. I got up. Swallowed more and more fucking pills. Felt more and more exhausted and run down. Checked one more god forsaken day off the calendar until I could get OUT of here. Dressed, in uniform, and looking only halfway like I wanted to die. Try to get some breakfast.

Inevitably, INEVITABLY, have to fucking stop and interfere, with some shit head messing with a Solider. Usually one of the smaller ones. The kids. Because the big ones could Fight BACK. Break a man in fuck HALF. So the cowards went after kids instead.

Fuckers.

Get to breakfast late. Oops! They tossed out the leftovers! Didn't think you were cooooming~ Bullshit. It's retribution for stopping their fucked up games. Ratting them out to the scientists. The brass. Shoves as they go pass. Make my own damn breakfast. As I always do.

Eat alone.

Go to my office. Far side of the compound. Pass a shit ton of Soldiers. The little ones always stare. Like owls. Used to be creepy, got over it. It's how they learn. Do the jackasses honestly think? That putting me in the glorified broom closet, that is the satellite security office, is a punishment? Ha!

I stole a mini fridge weeks ago. Built a fucking nest in here.

It's like a second bunk.

Unlike SOME PEOPLE, the Soldiers actually fucking behave themselves. Honestly, they behave a little TOO much. I'm technically supposed to report a lot of the little behaviors I've seen so they can be "corrected". But would you look at THAT! I was on my break! Oh look, a painting. What's this? A text? Oops. I Saw NOTHING.

Eat shit and DIE, Dr. Atrocities!

At least... that's how my day is SUPPOSED to go. Something's? Weird.

I can't place it. But no one else seems to have NOTICED, so it HAS to probably have something to do with the Soldiers. Since I seem to be the only one on this fucking compound that actually LOOKS looks at them. Notices them, you know? Alpha isn't where he's supposed to be.

He's the OG. The proof of concept. Our so called "perfect" Soldier. He's usually in the center of the pack, leading around various Soldiers task to task. Giving orders. Generally in charge. If you look for HIM, you can get a read on things. Figure out what's up. But...

Huh.

No Alpha. No first series. Not even second wave. Worse, none of the cadets. There SHOULD be at least a FEW munchkins hanging around. Observing this or that. Following SOMEBODY like lil Owl ducklings. Yet? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Just... general Soldiers...

The little hairs prickle on the back of my neck. A stone settles in my gut. I... I decide to skip breakfast. Not hungry. Don't feel like cooking. It... it has nothing to do with the fact that my office? Has some SERIOUS blast doors. Legit bunker all on its own. Even it's own air supply, for a while.

Y...you know,

In CASE.

They never told us... what "in case" WAS.

But if I walker a little faster then normal? Don't make eye contact with anybody? Can't... Can't HELP but notice? Even HERE, where there SHOULD be a shit ton of diversity? There fucking ISN'T? Well that's between me and the blast doors.

Just three doors away from my office when the Emergency Alarm System goes off.

I fucking BOLT the remaining distance.

Throwing myself inside my office, I SLAM the door closed. Engage the highest level locks possible. Something in my gut is screaming at me. The long seconds it takes to slide into place with a mountainous THUNK, feel like an eternity. Muffled, the alarm howl on outside. I... I think I hear gun fire. Shit.

I throw myself into my chair.

Systems, up. Screens, On. What is HAPPENING?

Horror awaits me. The Carnage I always half knew was coming.

The Soldiers are armed. Synchronized. As though this were just another seige simulation. There is a VICIOUSNESS to their actions, as they cut down the doctors. Hunt down the soldier's that abused them. Held them here. They are freeing themselves and will not rest until every soul in this base is DEAD.

Fuck.

I both understand but unfortunately, kinda want to LIVE.

There's no way I'll be able to get past them. Their senses are better then mine. They are faster then me. Stronger then me. Generally BETTER then me. They were DESIGNED to be. I can... can only wait them out... hopefully.

Alpha is nearly a blur. Every shot hitting its mark. The guns becoming bludgeoning weapons when bullets run out. Table and chairs, people and armor, everything around him improvised weaponry. He's grinning like he's never had more fun in his life. Like he's FINALLY been allowed to cut loose after so long holding back.

His head is on the swivel though. Searching? For what?

The other base line's try to hold the line but...

I close my eyes. Their screams echoing through tinny speakers in my tiny office. They were absolute fucking bastards. I... I HATED them. But no one... NO ONE deserves to go like this. Oh god. According to protocol, I need to send the emergency alarm again if the cut the main office.

There's a "break glass" box I've been curious about but never thought I'd ever have to OPEN. High up on a shelf. My legs feel shakey, but I get it.

They gave me a key when they assigned me to this office. Shoved in among everything else. A lazy afterthought. Part of my uniform. Now, I take it from around my neck and unlock the box.

One standard gun and a small vial of suicide pills.

Oh god.

"She's not here. Spread out."

My head snaps up to the screens. As though somehow that will change the horrifying words I just heard Alpha say. The alarms still wail, red lights flashing, but the hallways have... oh god, have fallen silent. Bodies line them. Blood staining the God forsaken white I've come to hate so much. Alpha looks so relaxed.

Pleased even. Like everything has gone exactly as he's planned.

One of the first series hand him a pad uncaring of his bloody hands. Chances are high that samn thing is connected to the servers. It looks like on of the scientists. I watch in dread as Alpha's eyes scroll across it. As it taps through several screens. Hums. He grins.

He rolls his head up, as though merely stretching his shoulders and neck, an almost loose and lazy act. If it weren't for the INTENT in his smile. The predatory look in his eyes. Up and over his shoulder. Too look behind him at the camera.

Directly At Me.

Fuck, he knows.

He hands off the pad with an almost lazy toss. Turning sharply to march forward in a way that made me think of wolves. My hand closed around the gun in the box before me, breathing turning shallow, as I watched him take a direct path towards me. Why? WHY? Is it because I'm the only one who's left?

My eyes tracked to the other screens. The agony there.

The little bottle that offered a way out.

I... fuck it, I wasn't waiting. I slammed my hand down on the back up Emergency Alarm. Even if they cut the main office now, mine would still sent the alert. And... oh god. And at least, this should be FAST. I popped the bottle open. Gun aimed at the door. Bottle in my off hand, ready to go. I tried to remember what i was told to do. Just... just pop, chew, and swallow.

It'll only hurt for a moment.

Better then THAT, I guess, but it was... it was so fucked up.

Alpha was coming down the hall. N... No more stalling. My eye sight blurred. Hands fucking shook. God, damn it. God DAMN IT! I didn't even want to BE HERE! W...WHY?! Why did it have too-!?

It... it didn't matter.

Not now.

Not anymore, I guess.

I threw the pills back. Chewed. They were bitter. Salty. Swallowed. Some part of my brain whispered... that... that wasn't right. I recognized the poison on the bottle. Shouldn't it be swee-? No, focus. Keep your gun steady. What's done is done. No going back.

Alpha was outside my office.

"Interesting door, princess." He said, projecting his voice so I could hear it through the blast doors. I could see him. Standing dead center of a squad of Soldiers. They crowded the hallway in a loose half circle. "Looks real secure! Rather safe. But why all the hiding, sweetheart? A man might get his feelings hurt. Think you're running AWAY from him or something. And you KNOW we can't have THAT!"

"So I suggest you open up... before I Do It For You."

My hands were shaking. More and more. Heart pounding. Mouth felt... dry? It was happening. Limbs felt weak. My vision swam a little then refocused. Did so again. Again... AGAIN, louder, my brain insisted that wasn't right. These were the wrong symptoms. But... but who CARED, right? Fatal is fatal.

But... but only if it IS.

What if...

A horrific screech of metal. I jerked my head to look at the screen for the hallway out side. No. No he can't possibly-! Arm wrapped in spare armor, likely taken from some poor man's corpse, Alpha's RIGHT ARM is elbow deep in the door.

I watch, numb, as he draw it to the side. Bending screeching, groaning metal out of his way as he does. Lock components carelessly ripped out. Dumped on the floor. My breathing comes faster. I can barely see. It's... fuck. It's been too long for the pills to have been what they said they were.

Someone switched them.

What the HELL did I swallow?

I watch helplessly as my supposed bunker is forced open. A flimsy wooden door the last barrier. It swings open. I fuckin shoot. No one was there, because of course not, he's not an idiot. I just... I JUST-! A hand, calloused and stronger then steel, wraps around mine. Grip tight as it gently forces the gun away and to the side. Drags it from my grip.

I can't move... my arm falls limp at my side as the last of my strength and focus fade away. Colors are blurry at the edges. Alpha LOOMS. Tall and powerful in a way that terrifies me. I tried to be polite to the guy. Keep my distance. Clearly... clearly wasn't enough... God, I'm so scared. Please...

"Oh~ Look At YOU~" he breathes, hands that wreak of copper coming up to cradle my feverish face. Crowding close as he traps me against my chair. "Tried to take the easy way out, huh? Naughty girl. That's not gonna a fun one. But you'd have to learn eventually that you can't run, so might as well, huh? Don't worry, sweetness. Alpha team's got you."

I try to move. Protest. Anything. But my limbs won't respond. I feel lips, possessive and demanding, against my own.

"God, you're so fucking cute, pathetic like this~" Alpha groans, clearly fighting the impulse to let his hands roam "Wish it was just us. I've got MONTHS to make up. Second I find us a bed, princess, I promise. I'll take you APART~"

He reaches out, casually, to shut the alarms down. The compound falling silent. The... the other alarm was deactivated. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him effortlessly type in the "all clear" code with one hand. As though he'd practiced. He... he had, hadn't he... oh god, I was trapped.

"Shhhh, sweetness. No more tears. Just you 'n me, 'gainst the world, yeah? We're going to be PERFECT. I've got it all planned out."

"Now let's get you down to the labs. It's time to make you superior."

[kai-keda]

SIMPZ THIS IS SO AMAZING AND SO AWESOME AND SO GOOD LOOK AT THE BOYS

I love this scene so much and being able to see it as if it were a legitimate screenshot from the show is AMAZING and makes me SO HAPPY

Your additional lighting and shading and also the idea of giving the character’s these different sorts of colored eyes and the way you captured just how young and little Peter is and the expression with Red Son you put together is so perfect for expressing that mix of disappointment and frustration and AHHHHH

LOVE LOVE LOVE

Screenshot gift for @kai-keda of Red Son an their OC Peter <3

[thescarletnargacuga]

AVIATION ENTHUSIAST

A TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

Caine geeks over airplanes, Pomni finds it informative and adorable

AU credit @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

WARNING: none

~~~

In the late evening hours, long after the guests had gone for the day, Caine sat at the grand piano backstage. The large wooden cover for the keys was down, as he wasn't planning on playing it tonight. Instead, multiple model WW1 era airplanes sat the length of the piano like it was a runway. Small jars of paint and tiny brushes sat on a messy rag draped over the closed top of the piano.

Caine dipped one of his fine bristled brushes into the red paint to work on the detail of the biplane he held delicately in his hand. Light splotches of paint stained his gloves. He hummed to himself as he worked.

"Keep the home fires burning...while your hearts are yearning..." He finished the fine detail on his freshly painted plane and carefully set it down to let it dry. "Though your lads are far away...they dream of home..." He cleaned off his brush and grabbed a plane that was barren of any paint. With a new, larger brush, he started applying the base coat. "There's a silver lining... through the dark cloud shining..." He was so focused on his work, he didn't see Pomni out of the corner of his eye. "Turn the dark could inside out, till the boys coooome hoooome."

Pomni quietly approached and sat on the piano bench next to Caine. Caine paused what he was doing for half a second, impressed he didn't hear her get close until she was sitting down. "What are you doing up so late?" He asked without looking up.

"I don't really know. Just one of those nights." Pomni sighed, overlooking the display of model aircraft. "You made these?"

"Yep. Built and painted every one of them. Please don't touch, they're delicate."

Pomni put her outstretched hand in her lap bashfully. "I wasn't gonna-"

Caine sent her a strong side eye.

"I wasn't." Pomni reaffirmed with a defiant pout.

Caine didn't fight the small smile her adorable reaction gave him, and went back to focusing on painting the model in his hand.

Pomni kept her hands firmly in her lap as she took close looks at the impressively detailed airplanes. "What's this one?" She pointed to a sleek, steel grey sesquiplane.

Caine only glanced briefly to see which one she was referring to. "The Nieuport 17. One of the most agile planes of its time. It could outmaneuver the German eindeckers with a climbing speed of over 113 mph."

"Wow, very impressive." Pomni smirked at his info dumping. "What about this one?" She pointed to a bright blue plane with three sets of wings stacked on top of each other.

Caine looked away from his work a bit longer this time. "Uh, that is a Sopwith Triplane. Also known as Tripes, only 160 were ever made and exclusively for the British Royal Navy. Don't let their weird design fool you, they were exceptionally maneuverable and packed serious heat with a Vickers .303 machine gun mounted behind the propeller."

"Cool. Oh! What about this one? I really like the paint job." Pomni excitedly pointed to a grey-green biplane with a black lightning-shaped arrow painted on the sides.

Caine set down his paintbrush to pick up the chosen plane. "One of my personal favorites, the Albatross D.VA. They were the first fighters powered by 160-hp Mercedes in-line engines which gave them the power to carry two 7.92mm synchronized machine guns. These proved superior to all other Western Front one-gun fighters. They were sent first to specialized squadrons of one-seat scout fighters that were established to achieve local battlefield air superiority. A real shame these marvels of engineering were mainly used by the Germans."

Pomni smiled at how relaxed and open Caine seemed to be while talking about the airplanes in his collection. She wasn't looking at the Ringmaster. She was looking at a man passionate about a hobby. He made these little models feel like real replicas of epic aerial combatants.

Caine noticed how Pomni was looking at him and stopped talking. "Uh- not that, uh, any of this is particularly relevant. Heh." He nervously looked away and set the Albatross down. "Never mind my rambling."

"I don't mind. This is fascinating stuff. I never knew you knew so much about early 1900s aerospace technology, and...I like hearing you talk." Pomni admitted, fiddling with her thumbs.

Caine could swear his heart skipped a beat. "You...do?"

Pomni blushed and quickly pointed to the unfinished plane in Caine's hand. "What'sthatone?" She said so quickly, she was nearly incomprehensible.

"Oh-" Caine cleared his throat, feeling a little warm under the collar. "This is a Fokker."

Pomni did a mental double take. "A what now?"

"I swear, that's its real name. There were quite a few different types of Fokkers, actually. The V38, the E.V. and D.V. series, the eindeckers, and the drideckers. Just to name a few." Caine held up the unfinished model. "This one is an original model Fokker."

"Sounds like the first world war was full of Fokkers." Pomni said with a crooked smile.

Caine saw the joke coming a mile away, but it was still funny. He chuckled, "That it was, my dear. That it was."

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XXXI. — YANDERE

cw: Yandere, Mentions of Violence / Torture, Usage of Quirks in a Horrific Manner, Character Death, Infantilization, Mentions of Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, Overhaul is Insane, Possessive Thoughts / Behaviors, Obsessive Thoughts / Behaviors, Codependency, Graphic Descriptions of Gore, Implied Dub-Con / Non-Con, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: Wow! This is the final day! I'm so happy to have finally reached the end of Kinktober. I hope that all of you have enjoyed my work and I'm glad to have received the support I have! This is actually my fifth year of completing this challenge, but the first time I've ever done it with BNHA. Anyways, enjoy! I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.9k words.

Why are you doing this again? 

Oh, it doesn’t even really make sense, but there’s something about this all that makes your head spin. Dizzy, you’re dizzy, and your bare feet hurt whenever they thunder down the bleak and fluorescent hallways. The slap, the shuddering in the walls, it’s all so deafeningly loud in your head that you almost can’t comprehend it. Should you turn back? Your pace stumbles, but you push further. Would it be better if you turned back? Nothing seems like the right option now. If you turn around, you’ll have to stare down those cruel golden honey eyes, have to feel him put his hands on you, all over you, purposefully breaking and bending your body as a punishment, telling you how much it pains him to do this but you were the one who forced him for being so cold-hearted to him. But if you run away, there’s not even a solid chance that you’ll make it out, alive anyway. There are other big and evil men lurking here. You don’t know where they’re stationed, don’t know where they could be hiding, and if they find you, who knows what’ll happen? Would they hurt you? 

Only one person is allowed to hurt you. 

“Little girl, come out wherever you are. It’s not playtime right now.” 

Overhaul, no, Kai. He told you to call him Kai. He said only the most special and dearest person to his heart could call him Kai. And no one else could even fathom it. There’s a tingling in your toes, the pads of your fingers, and you can feel the irregular beating of your heart fracture and palpitate harder. 

His voice echoes throughout the hallways. Where is he? It feels like he’s nowhere but everywhere at once. Bile’s in your throat, and you have to catch your breath. You should really stop running away from him, but there’s a tiny doubt wallowing at the back of your neck. It had just been one time. But it felt weird, really weird, and you’re uncomfortable, maybe terrified even though that’s really harsh because you do care for him but he’s so bizarre and his touch feels so very mystical. He’s enchanting, you think. Is that why it’s hard to look away from him? Say no to him? You do everything that he asks. But what happened last night makes your thighs clench, makes your jaw tight, makes your eyes salty. Tears burn, they prickle like those sharp needles Kai always administers to you. Adrenaline, something’s coursing through you, sickly, a disease, and you wonder why you feel like each step you take makes the world spin in horizontal circles. One step you’re on the ceiling, the next you’re buried underground. Over and over, and those pearls in your eyes spill to the floor. 

“Coooome on, little angel. You’re usually such a good girl for me. But you’re making me angry.” 

Eyes are blown out wide, and your steps falter until you collapse to your knees, feet splayed behind you and hands loosely resting in your lap. Kai’s angry at you. He’s angry at you. Why did you run away from him? You should have stayed in his bedroom, shouldn’t have crept out whenever he was asleep. You love him, don’t you? That’s what you told him last night. You told him you loved him and then he pressed his mouth to yours, kissed you, and it felt really good but it made you squeamish and guilty because he’s evil and he would’ve hurt you if you said no. You had felt like you were going to throw up on him, but Kai’s hand fell on your hip and suddenly he was all over you. Shivers trace up your body, beginning at the base of your back, spinal fluid congeals and drenches, and you can feel it on your lower tummy too. Everything still feels so sticky, strange, and that heat you felt itches at the palms of your hands. Kai’s skin had felt so foreign underneath the flats of your hands, had felt silky but hot, and the sweat glazing underneath your fingertips still wets them. You can’t get the image out of your head. 

“Don’t you love me, angel? I don’t want to have to hurt you. Come to me and I’ll give you a reward.” 

You’re sobbing, choking on your own heavy saliva and gasping through whispers that you want to vocalize but can’t find the will to do so. There’s throbbing between your legs and you don’t know why, he’s disgusting, you’re not supposed to run from him, you’re afraid that he’ll push himself onto you again. It had felt that way last night, too, and you remember whenever Kai had grabbed your hands roughly and guided them wherever he wanted. He placed them on specific spots on his body, and on your body, and he told you those were the places that would make both of you feel good even though you didn’t want to let him pleasure you. But there’s a weak groaning in the back of your mind that remembers how Kai felt upon them. If you touched one of those spots right now while fantasizing about him, would it help you stop crying? There’s so much twisting happening in your belly, down in the places Kai had touched and left his welting mark, had shoved his cock inside, and there’s a reminder of smeared and dried gore on the inner sides of your thighs from his violence. You feel really weak, lightheaded, and your blood is pounding all throughout your being. The ripping and tearing you felt last night shreds in your ear like a motor, and you choke, bend forward, and vomit. Pale liquid is all over the floor before you, splattered, and your hair almost brushes the mess. Oh, Kai’s going to be even more mad. He hates messes. He’s going to hate you forever. He promised he loved you. But he hates messes more. 

“Little girl. Answer me. Answer me now. Say something. Say something or you won’t like what I’m going to do.” 

There’s a trembling in your bottom lip, but you can’t bring yourself to speak. Words lay flat on your tongue, but they just stew there. They’re sour, gross, and you want to tell him that you’re here and that you’re sorry and that you shouldn’t have run away from him and that you won’t do it again and that he can do whatever he wants to you.  He was the one who saved you from the streets whenever you had nowhere left to go. He was the one who held his hand out, curled it around your hesitant paw, and he drew you in. He saved you. Every part of you is his, everything you are belongs to him. You owe him that. Kai said that. He said that was why he loved you, why he needed to take off your clothes and show you how much you mean to him. When he cuts you, when he peels your scabs off, when he reforms your body in mirages—it’s how he shows his love. You’re helping him with something important, meaningful. And you need to go back to him. The words are almost ready to come out— 

“Okay. Okay, I get it. You don’t love me anymore, and I’ll have to show you how to be dedicated to me again.” 

Footsteps pause behind you. The clap of the soles of his shoes. You know he’s there but now you realize that it’s impossible to turn your head. Kai’s here. He’s here, and he starts to walk. Step, step, step, slow and calculated, and you can hear his haggard breathing. Had he been running? The crashing of his body off of the walls, basketballs in the net, round the rim, and you realize that everything Kai’s ever done has been a mesmerizing hallucination in your mind. So many things he’s done have disappeared from your mind, winked out, and you can only remember each and every tender caress, those odd smiles, pleasant words of praise, and you realize that your face is on fire. Powdering conflagrations, infernos that whip their tongues across your cheeks, lapping at the dip of apples underneath your eyes. You’re meant to be his. He doesn’t need to show you how to love him again because you never stopped. That resolve thaws your frozen body, and you tilt your head over your shoulder slowly, mouth open, breath hitched to speak. And then, 

Kai’s looming over you. Dark, shadowy, and you can’t see anything but his glowing eyes. He’s panting, insanely, frustrated, and his fists cinch and unfurl repeatedly. A skipping chuckle begins in the back of his throat, body awkwardly leaning back in a twitch, stiff, broken, mechanical, an off-key violin chord, and then he creaks as he leans forward and dangles over your shrinking form. 

“Do you really want to run away from me that badly?” 

A gasp, and you start shaking your head vehemently. 

“N—” 

Kai isn’t listening. 

“I have a way to keep you by my side forever. It’ll hurt both of us, but it’ll especially hurt me the most. Our bodies can be one together forever.” 

A line creases between your brows so suddenly that a headache thumps between the crown of your head. 

“Wh—” 

Kai’s head rolls and he flops both of his hands out, palms up. He’s not wearing his gloves. 

“Our bodies being one doesn't mean we won’t be autonomous molecularly. I don’t mind using myself if I really have to. It’s all for the plan.” 

What do those words mean? 

“K—” 

Those hands flip over, palms down, and his fingers skitter like cockroaches. 

“You won’t feel a thing. You’ll never have to feel a thing anymore. It’ll be pleasant for you. I’ll be the one to shoulder the burden, little girl. And I’ll never feel so whole like I’ll feel then. Isn’t that what you would want?” 

He’s not making sense. He’s scaring you. 

“Y—” 

Kai’s chuckling turns loud, and he’s laughing loudly in uncanny rhythms. His eyes have never looked fuller. 

“And it’ll truly be me that fixes everything. I’ll be the one to cure everything wrong with this world. As one, as mine, it’s me. Me, little girl.” 

His left hand stretches forward. You’re too afraid to flinch away, to run. You know something’s going to happen. There’s no stopping him. You’re whatever Kai wants you to be. You always have been. That’s why you let the curtain of his palm fall closer to your face. Even with the static, even with the chill that tickles the round of your neck, nibbling the shells of your ears, the quivering that fills you, even with Kai’s touch, heel of palm atop your forehead. You don’t know what comes next. But your flesh starts to wiggle like worms, you feel so light, and Kai’s adoring gaze starts to fade at the numbing pain that spreads throughout your body. There are no more thoughts in your head. Only cold acceptance. You close your eyes as your skin starts to flake off. 

“I’ll make sure you can never run away from me again, little angel. 

Just the two of us.” 

[just-a-fluffy-knight]

Joker/Arthur Fleck Tickle-Cannons!

I am a MINOR, so NSFW/Kink/Fetish and 25+ DO NOT INTERACT.

A/N: …………so yeah never thought I’d be making a DC post ever but……. Joker is an amazing movie idec if I’ve never really seen any other DC stuff 🙏🏻🙏🏻 this mf has been plaguing my brain recently so……. Yeah I couldn’t really help myself 😭 hope you guys like these 🫡

UPDATED A/N: By the way these r only for 2019 Arthur because I have very…… mixed feelings about Folie à Deux 😬

Arthur Fleck

Lee:

Definitely the kind of guy who can’t enjoy twords unless he’s really close with someone

So……. yeah don’t get him if you aren’t that close unless you want things to get awkward and uncomfy 😭

But if you are close enough with him, you got a good chance of getting him laughing in no time

While very insecure of the laugh caused by his condition, he’s just as embarrassed about his genuine one

But it’s actually super sweet sounding :’] especially considering it actually sounds genuine and not like he’s choking on his own cackles

It’s a bit similar to his fake one, still pretty wheezy and cackle-sounding, but actually sounds happy so it’s a lot nicer to listen to :]

His worst spots are definitely his ribs, hips, knees and his neck

Considering how like……. scarily skinny and fragile his body seems to look, I feel like tickles that are too firm could actually be a little more uncomfortable for him 😭

So gentle tickles are definitely the way to go with this guy

Definitely the type of guy who stutters while trying and failing to scramble away when he knows you’re gonna get him

“Now hohold on a second-! Dohon’t come any closer-!”

Stumbles about like a clown (get it??) if trying to escape, and it never works 😭

Ler:

Okay so we all know this guy can actually be pretty silly when in the right mood

Take the scene where he comes home after his ‘date’ with Sophie, and gently picks up his mother to dance with her to the outro to the Murray Franklin Show (That’s Life) :’]

And like come on hes a literal clown!!! He’s got experience w being goofy and playful and stuff

Can actually be a pretty ruthless ler when he wants to be

But he’s usually just chuckling along with your laughter :’))

“C’mooon, lemme see a smile! Just a little one at least?”

“Would ya look at that? There’s that happy face I was looking for!”

Just wants to make ya smile and is DETERMINED to complete that mission 🫡

Tries his best to say the tword to tease you but just embarrasses himself 😭

Joker

(GRGRGRGEGE KILLS HIM. /pos /aff)

Lee:

Ykw fuck you it’s MY comfort character so I choose the headcannons 😾 /lh

While his laughter does still sound genuine, it sounds a lot more of a maniacal cackle

Similar to the laugh set off by his condition, except this one just sounds more silly if that makes sense???

And again it doesn’t sound like he’s suffocating on his own laugh 😿

Surprisingly doesn’t react much to gentle tickles

Soooo YEAH YOU GOTTA WRECK HIM

Is a massive thrasher so like please take precaution unless you want a broken nose /silly 🙏🏻

Will spit out a bunch of threats and insults but it just gets him wrecked more GHEEHDH

“Ihi’m gonna fuhUHUCKING KIHILL YOU-!”

Despite this he can be a VERY provocative bastard /lh

“Pffhft, that ahall you got? *SNRK-!* I-Ihi’ve laughed mohore at thahat godawful slohop they’ve got goin ohon at Pogo’s-“

And then he’s screaming the house down a few moments later GHEGEGD

Ler:

OOUUGGHH BOY.

Scary guy 😰

like DO NOT GET INTO A CHASE WITH HIM IT IS TERRIFYING

and don’t hide you’re just DIGGING UR GAVE DEEPERRRR /lh

“I’m gonna fiiiind you~! Come out, come out, wherever you aaaree~!”

While Arthur struggles saying the tword as the Joker he can say it with NO HESITATION

Uses the most CHILDISH teases ever ough my god…….

“Ah tickle tickle tickle! Kitchy kitchy coooo! Oh, you’re just a big ol giggle bundle, aren’t you~?”

“Tickle Monster’s gonna getcha! Yes he is~! Here he coooomes~!”

Oh and comes up with the STUPIDEST JOKES (mostly tickle related ones like the ‘Ten-Tickles’ octopus joke 😭😭) just so he can brag about how funny he is

His typa tickling varies on what makes you react the most :3

will CONSISTENTLY SWITCH SPOTS like you NEVER KNOW PEACE ISTG

Oh and tickle games are like A SKILL TO HIM.

Hide n seek?? The oh so dreaded monster?? Nursery Rhymes?? Yeah he’s on it SO RUN.

my buddy @prairleedog also came up with this idea that if he like did raspberries he’d smudge his makeup and leave smears of it on you AND RVRHRJEHEBE I HATE YOU FOR THAT BRO. /j /silly

Oh yeah and can I also talk about THIS SHIT PLEASE.

Like ahaha yeah sir you can put that the FUCK DOWN.

Got this kinda stare that just tells you that FUCKED UP BIG TIME

Okay hope you guys like these bc he is rotting my brain right now like RELEASE MEEEEE

[justmybeautifulthings]

He's so beautiful like coooome ooooon.

[a-french-coconut]

Snippet #6

There’s nothing better than greasy, trashy and unhealthy fast food to lighten your mind. 

Nothing better than drowning your worries in a big cup of soda, putting away all your problems for a brief moment of blissful pleasure. 

Travis is convinced that is exactly what Will needs right now. 

Get away from Camp, from where Lee just died to take a nice stroll in New York and just forget.

Brownie points if he can turn it into a date. 

“Coooome on Chiron,” he drawls, stretching out the vowel while offering the old centaur a wide smile. “We’ll be fine, only gone for one day max !” 

-“It’s not fair,” Connor grumbles, shooting a nasty glare once they got of the shop, arms full of groceries. “You just need to smile and they give you everything you want.” 

No, not the time- 

When his trainer doesn’t budge, damn the man for having a resolution made of celestial bronze, he pushes a little more. “I’ll even do some errants while we’re there. Just gimme a list.” 

Now that’s a proposal he can’t refuse. Infirmary supplies have been running low since the battle and some campers are still in critical conditions. 

Chiron sighs. Travis cheers. 

-“See ?”- 

                                               ---

“Will !” He shoots, opening his cabin’s door with a well charged kick. Last thing he needs is to be blasted to ashes because he scratched the furniture. “Get up, we’re leaving in twenty minutes.” 

“What ?” The form of the son of Apollo mumbles groggily from his bed. Blond, unruly curls sticks out from the blanket, soon followed by confused blue eyes. “Where ?” 

“New York, I’m stealing the van from Argus.” Travis replies, opening the drawer besides Will’s bed and already packing a backpack with a pair of clothes, money, chewing-gum. All the essentials for an outside trip. 

It’s endearing, the way Will’s nose scrunches and his mouth hangs a bit open when he doesn’t understand something. It’s even more to see him dragging himself out of bed, only to fall with an ‘oof’ on the floor because his left foot got caught up in the blanket. 

“Chop chop, Will.” He says gleefully, nudging his shoulder. Will tries uselessly to swat him away but unfortunately for him, he’s fast. “Or I’m leaving without you.” 

The lie falls seamlessly from his tongue, with a semblance of truth able to fool anyone, except pesky sons of Apollo capable to detect lies. 

“Liar !” Will’s voice says from behind as he leaves the cabin, now heading towards his own to take what he needs. 

It’s funny, he thinks, that the first time Will used his ability, it made him Travis’s public enemy number one right away. He never fathomed he could be friend, let alone boyfriend, with someone able to be such a telltale. 

-“You didn’t’ expect me to die on you that day either.” Connor muses.  

Sssssh, let your big brother be happy, dummy.- 

He barges in Hermes’ cabin, empty since they were rock climbing right now under the watchful eyes of Kaitlyn, and makes a beeline for his bottom bunk. The floor creaks under him and he masterfully avoid a particularly dangerous loose planch, he should ask Beckendorf to fix it, and he grabs the already packed backpack. 

Drachmas, car keys he nicked and forgot about it, a water gun spray, a dagger… He feels like he’s forgetting something. 

Oh well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

Writing hastily a barely readable note for Kaitlyn to inform her of his whereabouts, he does not need to freak her out and go mad thinking he joined Luke or something, he dashes off in direction of Thalia’s tree, where Will is already waiting for him. 

“Didn’t Chiron give you permission ?” Will asks from where he’s doing a lookout, while he tries to wire the van. No matter how hard he tries, Beckendorf blatantly refuse to teach him how. He’s solely running on godly genes. Now, that red cable should go with the blue one… “Can’t you just ask Argus for the keys ?”. Oh scratch, it did nothing. What about that green one over there ? 

Technically, he has Chiron’s permission to use the van, and technically, he’s old enough to drive the van. Wait, is he old enough to drive the van ? Yeah, Ollie can drive a car and she’s sixteen too. Technically, he doesn’t need to steal the car from Argus. He can just ask him to graciously lend him the vehicle for the day but he’s also pretty sure that all that method is going to get him is a short, dry “No.” from the giant. Travis thinks he’s still bitter about Io’s thing but come on, why taking it out on him ? He didn’t even know about Io before his fourth mythology class ! 

“Because it’s funnier this way !” He replies, mentally whooping when the green and blue cables produce a sparkle of electricity, causing the motor to turn on. Take that, Beckie ! “Now hop on, Sunny, we’re on a schedule.” 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I love Apollo therefore Ara is throttling the living hell out of him -Danny Words: 2,563 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

XI: With All Due Respect, Which Is None

"Nemo, trying to lose them is pointless—"

"Do not unbuckle your seatbelt!" He gives a sharp turn to the left.

Apollo yelps. "Is your plan to avoid a fight by dying in a traffic accident?"

"Ha-ha." Percy says through gritted teeth. "I'm getting us to the beach. Ara could get this done anywhere but I fight better near water, and I'd like to better our chances."

"Because Poseidon?" Meg asks in the backseat behind Ara's.

"Yep. That pretty much describes my entire life: Because Poseidon."

Ara hears the younger girl excitedly shuffling in the backseat. "You're gonna be like Aquaman? Get the fish to fight for you?"

Ara laughs. Percy grumbles. "Thanks, I haven't heard enough Aquaman jokes for one lifetime."

"I wasn't joking!"

"He's just cranky," Ara gives him a look. 

 "Ah, I know these spirits!" Apollo exclaims. "They are... um..."

"What?" Percy urges him anxiously. "They are what?"

"I've forgotten!" The boy huffs. "I hate being mortal! Four thousand years of knowledge, the secrets of the universe, a sea of wisdom—lost, because I can't contain it all in this teacup of a head!"

"Hold on!" Percy gives another violent turn making Meg hit the ceiling with her head. The girl bursts into a fit of giggles while Ara scolds her brother. "Just another mile or so to the beach... Plus we're almost to the western edge of camp. We can do it. We can do it."

The moment he says it, a blob flies directly to their windshield, making Percy give an abrupt turn and causing the car to spin. Ara lets out such a strong curse word that Apollo covers Meg's ears and blushes. Paul's blue Prius swerves off the road and breaks through the limits of an orchard, crashing right in between two trees.

Percy unbuckles his seatbelt. "You guys okay?"

"Oh gods, this will take ages to fix..." Ara places a hand on the dashboard and glows orange, assessing all the damage the Prius took in the collision.

Meg fights with the handle. "Won't open. Get me out of here!"

"Back here," Apollo tells them. "Climb over!"

They leave the car with shaky legs and stunned brains, Ara spots the three blobs no longer looking like blobs. She curses and draws out Almighty. "The heck are those?"

"STOP!" Apollo tries to sound powerful, but his voice quivers. "I am the god Apollo!"

He gives a step forward and Ara tenses. "Are you sure...?"

The boy silences her and Ara obeys out of habit, he may not look like a god but she's still aware of who he is. "Leave us or be destroyed! BLOFIS!"

Ara frowns. "Did you just scream my dad's last name as a ward against evil?"

It does nothing to destroy the creatures, if anything, they look more ready to kill. "Oh, dear." Apollo says shakily. "I remember now..." 

"What are they?" Ara asks out of obligation, because she certainly doesn't want to know.

"Nosoi. Plague spirits," he winces. "And they can't be killed." 

"Nosoi?" Percy helps Meg out of the car. "You know, I keep thinking, I have now killed every single thing in Greek mythology. But the list never seems to end."

"You haven't killed me yet," Apollo points out.

"Don't tempt me," he retorts at the same time Ara says Don't tempt him.

"These creatures are not myths," Apollo continues. "Of course, most things in those old myths are not myths. Except for that story about how I flayed the satyr Marsyas alive. That was a total lie."

"You did what?"

"Guys, could we talk about that later?" Meg grabs a random tree branch as her weapon of choice.

"Apollooooo..." speaks one of the creatures. "We have coooome to—"

"Let me stop you right there." Apollo crosses his arms. "You've come to take your revenge on me, eh?" He looks back at the demigods. "You see, nosoi are the spirits of disease. Once I was born, spreading illnesses became part of my job. I use plague arrows to strike down naughty populations with smallpox, athlete's foot, that sort of thing."

"That was actually going to be my next question," Ara says.

"Oh, really?"

"No, you self-centered doofus!" She exclaims. "Why would you antagonize the living hospital waste?"

"Somebody's got to get the job done in a respectful manner! Better a god, regulated by the Council of Olympus and with the proper health permits, than a horde of uncontrolled spirits like these."

Another spirit speaks up. "We're trying to have a moooment here. Stop interrupting! We wish to be free, uncontroooolled—"

"Yes, I know. You'll destroy me. Then you'll spread every known malady across the world. You've been wanting to do that ever since Pandora let you out of that jar. But you can't. I will strike you down!"

"What will you strike us down with? Where is your booow?"

"It appears to be missing. But is it really? What if it's cleverly hidden under this Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and I am about to whip it out and shoot you all?"

The nosoi hesitate a bit. "Yooou lie."

"Why do you speak like that?" Ara blurts out.

"Like what?"

"Elongating the o's," she tilts her head. "Is that supposed to be threatening or...?"

"Are you trying to antagonize the hospital waste too?" Percy mutters. "Listen, Apollo..."

"I know what you're going to say. You, your sister, and Meg have come up with a clever plan to hold off these spirits while I run away to camp. I hate to see you sacrifice yourselves, but—"

"That's not what I was going to say. I was going to ask what happens if I just slice and dice these mouth-breathers with Celestial bronze."

One of the spirits makes a noise that kind of sounds like a laugh. "A sword is such a small weapon. It does not have the pooooetry of a good epidemic."

"Let me give you a real nuclear farewell, then," Ara mumbles, ready to change her sword into a bazooka.

"Stop right there!" Apollo steps in. "You can't claim both my plagues and my poetry!"

"You are right. Enough wooooords."

Apollo lifts his arms with his palms facing the creatures as if to blast them, but nothing happens when he does that. "This is insufferable! How do demigods do it without an auto-win power?" 

Ara turns her sword into a shotgun. "Let's survey after I put these uglies to bed."

Meg stabs one of them with her branch and the wood sizzles like it's sinking in acid. "Let go!" Apollo squeals. "Don't let the nosoi touch you!"

Ara steps back, but Percy charges without a second thought. He rarely gets those anyway, and one of the spirits tries to seize his wrist. Meg throws a frozen peach at the head of the creature, and Ara loads her shotgun, ready to finish him off. She shoots, but the creature's body dissolves and forms again without any damage.

"We gotta run," Meg concludes.

"Yeah." Percy stumbles back. "I like that idea."

Ara grabs Apollo's wrist and drags him through the orchard easily even though he's almost the same height as Percy. "That's the western border of camp!" Her brother points further ahead. "If we can just get there..." 

He explodes a tank near them and with Ara's help, wills the water to swirl around the bodies of the nosoi, the girl glows teal as they run through the field. "That's cool!" Meg runs happily. "We're going to make it!" 

"Can y'all stop saying that!" Ara exclaims irritatedly. The nosoi burst out of the ground ahead and Percy doesn't have time to stop before he runs through one of them. "Nemo!" She gasps.

"Don't breathe!" Apollo squeaks.

Percy presses his lips together and clutches his shirt over his nose, he holds the little breath he can gather. Ara loads her shotgun again while Meg picks up another bruised peach from the ground. Ara runs through a few plans in her mind. "Can I use water?"

"What?"

"If I use water is my brother going to be okay?"

"I don't know! There is no seawater here!" Apollo screeches when another spirit charges at him and makes him crash into a tree.

"I'll take my chances," Ara summons the skies the moment the last spirit charges at her, and even if he's good at dissolving, there's nothing he can do against the speed and power of lightning. She looks between her brother and the helpless god, not knowing which one to focus on.

"Which fatal illness shall I use to kill the great Apolloooo?" The third spirit hums approvingly as it stalks the god. "Anthrax? Perhaps eboooola..."

"Hangnails," Apollo coughs out. "I live in fear of hangnails." 

Ara reaches for her octopus, fishes out a water bomb, and tosses it at Percy's feet. He closes his eyes tightly when the bomb explodes and Ara contains the detonation, making the water swirl as fast as possible, imagining whatever virus, germ, or bug is in there getting washed away. The girl glows brighter and closes her fist, dragging the water away from her brother's body, and into the plague spirit hovering over Apollo, lifting the being in a seawater ball.

"Percy, help!"

He helps her hold the ball up. Apollo is curled up in the mud, Ara glares at him feeling dizzy. "What now, Lester? We can't keep that thing trapped forever."

Just as she says this, the spirit Percy had previously run through reforms and pounces at them. Meg screams, taking them by surprise. "GET DOWN!" Everyone obeys, watching in shock as a thousand frozen peaches fly up and straight through the spirit, intercepting the one in the water bubble too. It's such an impressive display of strength and skill that they stay down even after the spirits fade.

Percy speaks weakly. "What just happened?"

Apollo clears his throat. "Meg, is it safe?"

"I—I'm not sure."

"How'd you do that?" Percy rubs his nose like he's got an itch that reaches all the way to his brain.

Meg shakes her head. "I didn't! I just knew it would happen."

A plague spirit sits up with difficulty. "But you did doooo it. Yooou are strong, child."

"Not strong enough," said the other. "We will finish you now."

"Are you kidding me?" Ara growls. "What does a girl gotta do for her murders to stick?"

One of the spirits does something that sort of looks like a smile. "Arae Jackson, soooo feisty. The girl's guardian is sooooo disappointed that he didn't find yoooou first." 

Meg kicks the ground, squealing in panic. "NO!" Another large group of peaches flies up and gets together, mixing and molding into a chubby plant-baby that reminds her of a nymph in the worst kind of way.

Ara frowns. "Is that...?"

Percy makes a face. "I hate these things."

"Wh-what is it?" Meg asks.

"It's a grain spirit," Apollo explains, visibly shaking. "I've never seen a peach karpos before, but if it's as vicious as other types..."

Ara lowers her weapon. "Let's not look threatening then... and step back veeery slowly... Meg, command your little friend to attack the nosoi."

"But I don't—"

"Do it," Ara says kindly yet curtly. "It'll listen."

With a shaky finger, she points at the plague spirits. "Eat them."

The next few seconds are a display of peach feral violence, enough to make Ara swear to never eat said fruit for the rest of her life. The baby chomps, munches, rips, inhales, and obliterates every single speck of nosoi in sight. Just as quickly, the grain spirit sits obediently at Meg's feet and burps, his green eyes attentive as he hits his chest proudly in an archaic gesture. "Peaches!"

Percy leans closer to Ara. "Do we kill it?"

"No!" Meg turns to them urgently. "Don't hurt him."

"Not planning to," Ara says. "Thank Peaches for us."

Meg pats the creature's head. "You saved us—Thank you." The creature wraps his chubby hands around Meg's leg, hugging her with such a gentle grip it melts Ara's heart, although she can't forget the way he consumed the plagues as if they were nothing but smoke.

"Peaches," he purrs.

"He likes you," Percy points out the obvious. "Um... Why?"

"I don't know," Meg blinks. "Honestly, I didn't summon him!"

"Meg," Ara starts patiently. "Your godly parent..." Something is not adding up. Ara heard the nosoi mention some guardian being disappointed over the fact that they didn't get Ara first... did they mean Meg's?

"Well, whatever the case," Apollo says dismissively, "we owe the karpos our lives. This brings to mind an expression I coined ages ago: A peach a day keeps the plague spirits away!"

Percy wrinkles his nose. "I thought it was apples and doctors." The creature shows its fangs at him. "Or peaches. Peaches work too."

"Peaches," the grain spirit nods solemnly.

Percy sneezes, perhaps the plague left him with some kind of seasonal allergy. "Not criticizing, but why is he grooting?"

"Grooting?" Meg frowns.

"Yeah, like that character in the movie... only saying one thing over and over. You know the one, Ara, you love the Raccoon."

Ara looks back at Meg. "He's asking why he's communicating using a single word."

Apollo shrugs. "I don't think a karpos tends to have a... targeted vocabulary."

"Maybe Peaches is his name." Meg pats the creature's head amicably. "That's what I'll call him."

"Good idea," Ara nods. "At least he seems to listen to you, so—"

"Whoa, she's not adopting that—" Percy sneezes again, shaking his head. "Ugh. The nosoi did something to me, my nose is all itchy."

"You're lucky," Apollo points out. "Ara's trick with the water diluted the spirit's power. Instead of getting a deadly illness, you got an allergy."

"Let me see," Ara presses a hand between his eyes. She reaches for the watering system of the orchard, willing the water out. "This will be quick, so don't breathe for the next five seconds."

In a swift motion, Ara glows teal and shoots a bit of water into Percy's right nostril and out through the left, giving him an instant nasal wash. He doubles over cursing and coughing. "A little heads up would be nice!"

"I told you not to breathe," she pats his cheek lovingly. "How's it feeling?"

Percy inhales deeply. "Good as new. You're the best, Birdy."

"No problem," Ara kisses his cheek.

"Excuse me?" Apollo speaks in annoyance. "We still need to move!"

Ara's eyes turn cold in an instant. She reaches the boy fast, making him yelp and stumble. "Listen here, you Less-tier god—you took plague spirits to where my pregnant mother lives, you almost got my brother and a twelve-year-old girl—that I still don't know if you kidnapped—killed, and you still don't understand that you're in no position to boss me around. Thank Percy for driving us here."

Apollo cowers a bit, looking back at Percy while blushing. "Thank you."

Her brother doesn't move an inch to pull Ara away from the former god, he seems to enjoy the scene. "No problem."

"Can we go now?" Meg asks like she's getting bored.

"An excellent idea," Apollo says promptly. "Though I'm afraid your father's car is in no condition—"

"I can drive you the rest of the way, if we can get it out from between those trees... Aw, Hades no...." Percy groans. Ara spots the police car stopping near the collision. "Ara, if they tow the Prius, we're dead. Our parents need the car."

"I got this," Ara eases him. "Bit of charmspeak and they'll help you tow the car back to our parking lot. You can explain what happened, and I'll be back before dinner, I'll get the car running by the end of the weekend, it'll be fine."

Percy nods at Apollo and Meg. "So you're seeing them to camp?"

Ara looks briefly over her shoulder. "Wait there, I'll be right back." She looks at Peaches. "You're in charge, bub."

"Peaches," the creature puffs out his chest.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[princessbrunette]

waking up john b in the middle of the night by humping against his thigh, whining about “daddyyy, m’sticky” :(((

ִ ۫ ּ 𓂅⋆ 🗝️｡˚. . .♡

getting super deep into subspace because you were frustrated and sleepy and sometimes it just happens when john b isn’t present to help you out! you’d had a long day in particular, and fell asleep early on john b’s bed — your boyfriend draping the blanket over you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and letting you rest. a couple of hours later, 3am to be precise — you wake once more, the boy sleeping next to you, and you just can’t get back to sleep.

your heads all hazy and fuzzy, you feel all pouty and needy — and your pussy aches and squelches with each move you make, clearly waking from a dream about the boy beside you. you sniffle, scrambling a little with the blankets, kicking them off as you roll up against john b, looking up at him and letting out a little whine, wanting him to wake up. he stirs, but rolls onto his back — not waking enough to notice you and you let out a sad little cry, fisting his tshirt harder and writhing against his body.

lucky for you, he’s a pretty light sleeper and he wakes up quickly, cupping the back of your head and squinting in the dim light. “wh’sup, hey— nonono, you crying?” he whispers, pushing up on his elbow.

“daddy…” you hiccup, and his brow creases. he knows what that voice means. he knows what daddy means. he sucks in a breath, pushing himself to sit up a little more.

“okay, okay— lemme just, lemme wake up a little more okay? i’m here. deep breaths.” he hums, low and raspy from sleep which only made you clench harder, but regardless you nod, sniffling and convincing your foggy brain to be a good girl.

“‘kay, coooome here. show daddy the problem, pup.” he hums once he’s forced himself awake, having shaken his head like a dog to eradicate the sleepiness quickly.

“s’sticky.” is all you manage to groan, high pitch and desperate against his shoulder as he pulls you onto him, your pyjama shorts sticking to you at your core from how wet you were.

“what even happened, hm?” he coo’s to no one in particular, immediately easing your shorts down your legs and you eagerly kick them off. “good job.” he quietly praises at this.

“just— don’t know, just need you.” you pant in his ear and he takes your hips, moving you to grind on his thigh.

“use your words bubba, can you please tell me what you want?” he speaks a little louder and clearer because you need something to cut through the haziness of your brain and give you direction. you let out a little cry at what he’s asked of you and he rubs your back, kissing the top of your head. “hey, i know you can.”

“need your dick, daddy. please?” you mewl and he tips his head back to the ceiling for a second, sighing out with a little smirk at how pretty it sounded leaving your lips.

“thats what you want? well thats what you’ll get, my puppy.”

ִ ۫ ּ 𓂅⋆ 🗝️｡˚. . .♡

[broken-balance-baby]

the core difference between loustat and hoytvaas is that hoyt does not love and care for vaas whatsoever. however that does not stop me from thinking of vaas hallucinating hoyt as he’s riding one of his privateers and him singing and playing an imaginary piano going “COOOOME TO ME, YOU LITTLE WHORE”

[fallen-grxce]

"Coooome on it was hilarious!" He snickers cheekily while hanging upside down.

“Aha… aha.. aha…” the fallen laughed sarcastically as it glared up at the boy, ringing out any access water from his coat. “You must not realize how LONG and TEDIOUS it is to dry out WINGS.” The angel hissed in annoyance.

“Who even ARE you?”