#highlight drabble

[snaillock]

got a weird amount of baby fever recently out of nowhere (i lied it was from another fic i read) so here’s whatever the hell this is

tags: male!reader, the itoshi bros having somewhat of a better friendship, both are implied to be adults for plot purposes, proofread but like at 4am so the correctness was in god’s hands w.c: 0.3k note: oji is a way of saying uncle in japanese

“come on sweetie, say dada.” you squatted down and held up your phone camera, recording your one year old baby.

“no no, say papa,” sae said, kneeling right in front of his son and watching him make sounds that vaguely resembled sentences. he’s been babbling and humming random sounds a lot more often so you and sae were lowkey betting on whose name would be his first word. if you zoomed in far enough in the recording, you could see the sparkles of anticipation in sae’s eyes as he listened out carefully. “oh my god wait, he’s saying something.”

“o…”

“huh?” “that does not sound like dada or papa.”

“oji…”

a confused yet tense silence filled the room as you both looked at your baby in absolute surprise. the look of mortification on sae’s face was priceless and you caught it all on camera.

“what the fuck did this kid just say?”

“sae!” you elbowed him in the arm. “don’t say that in front of him unless you want it to be his second word.”

“well i’d rather that than it being rin’s name. i swear i’m never letting him watch our kid again after this.” he stood up and picked up the baby off the ground.

“oh please it’s not that bad. it’s not like he prefers rin over us. it’s actually pretty cute that rin’s spending quality time with his nephew.”

“god, when did rin even teach him japanese..?” he shook his head and looked at his child with the slightest bit of offense in his eyes. sae whispered, “you traitor.” he held him on his side and carried him out of the living room. “just for that, you’re getting an early nap.”

later that day, rin texted you, asking why he received a snide voicemail from sae, telling him he has to try harder if he wants to steal his son away from him. To which you responded by sending him the video of sae’s horrified reaction to his son saying uncle as his first word, figuring rin at least be amused to learn that he has a new upper hand over his brother.

please read and respect my dni/byf before reblogging/following

taglist(sign up): @userwithlotsoftime @lucas2060

[jethrowest]

i’m a waking hell and the gods grow tired…

- take me back to eden by sleep token

(mdni)

Vacant stare crosses Hood’s features, rippling like a stone tossed into a lake. He’s been in the shower longer than his routine usually lasts. The water isn’t quite cold, but it’s not the blanket it once resembled.

The door to the bathroom remains open. He doesn’t want to take any chances, despite being the safest he’s ever been. Ever felt.

He focuses too much on breathing, exaggerating the action as if it isn’t innate. His chest feels heavy and he swallows hard, hoping to quell the rising panic he can’t seem to effectively smother.

Moving too slowly welcomes devastation. It’s an absurd line of thinking, yet it seems inescapable. The life he’s built with you is a far cry from what he’s accustomed to, and nothing going awry has created a different kind of restlessness he wishes to crush beneath his sore, overused fists.

Violence. That’s easy to face. He can charge at it like a bull, adrenaline numbing him until it wanes; by then, the cycle begins again. He doesn’t have to dwell if his mind doesn’t put him in a position to. He can fake it either way. He can shove it all down where it never sees the light of day.

Here, he thinks constantly. He’s open, infinitely bleeding. He glances at the blurred ceiling and exhales, squeezing his eyes shut.

He’s in the middle of a spinning room, but his body is at a standstill. He yearns for the quiet that comes with no longer feeling lightheaded and dizzy. For the room to stop spinning. For his insides to feel at one instead of at war. One half anticipating discord, the other begging for peace.

Your soft voice reaches him through his stupor, soothing it with your impossibly deep understanding of his thorn-encased affliction. His heart jumps in his throat, but it drops back where it should be when you inform him that you’re there, it’s just you; you’re going to join him.

Immediately, he straightens. He almost turns toward you. Your arms around his waist and your chin atop his shoulder whisper at him to stay put.

You are so warm. Like a blanket. He is tense, the shoulder you’re nestled into more elevated than the other, but your weight- your skin caressing his- deflates him a little bit.

“Been in here awhile,” you hum, sending vibrations to the ends of his toes. The tips of your fingers stroke directly below his belly button. It’s… too nice. Too tender.

“Kinda chilly.” You shiver, shaking him slightly. “Did the Devil decide he didn’t want you after all?” you tease, knowing he likes the water’s swathing heat to damn near cause first degree burns.

He chuckles, angling his head so his face is closer to yours. His stubble tickles your cheek. “Turns out I was too much competition.”

You laugh, and the sound is fucking heaven enough. How did he get here? Earn the right? The privilege?

He can replay the night you met as many times as he desires. Doesn’t mean it will make sense in the morning.

“Here. Let me. Before hell truly freezes over.”

Granting him no room to deny you, you take hold of his woodsy, earth-scented shampoo, working a sufficient amount into his scalp, stirring within a wandering composure that once refused submission. It begins as an almost unbearable ache, until it finally lets go and gradually trickles into blissful release.

He falls into you and sighs, no longer gasping for air.

[possuminnit]

everyday i sit down and go wow. i could write a ctommy possum fic. it could be beautiful. and then i never do

[good-beanswrites]

If you're still taking requests, could I ask for Futa finding our that Yuno was lying about getting beaten up in her first interrogation?

You sure can 👀👀👀👀 Omg, I'm a fake 02-03 fan, how have I never thought about that moment before? I assumed he'd know eventually, but for someone who's so honest (and likely already has issues with a disloyal friend group) an actual confession would be so painful... Thank you so much for the request, it reminded me how much I loved writing these two ;--;

“I can’t believe it!” Fuuta laid across Yuno’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Ooh~ is this about Shidou-san?” Yuno stepped out of a pair of shoes, grabbing another. She walked back and forth with accessories she’d requested or borrowed from the others. After scrutinizing them in the mirror, she’d try on something else. 

“Of course it is! Why aren’t you freaking out about this?”

It was a rhetorical question, she knew. This was one of those times Fuuta wasn’t really listening to anything except the rant in his own head. It could be annoying, but between him and Mahiru, Yuno actually enjoyed the chance to sit back and let someone else take over the conversation. 

“He comes out of his interrogation, casually laughing about the warden being young and kicking him, then expects us to be okay with it? That makes four out of five interrogations someone got hurt! It’s a good thing I showed them they can’t fuck with someone like me, eh? But a pushover like Shidou gets abused and laughs! Argh!” 

Fuuta sat up suddenly, trying to find somewhere to put his anger. He caught Yuno’s eye through the mirror. “There’s no way this is legal, locking us up with some violence-crazed warden! You know what I just keep thinking about, every day?”

Yuno gave a small “hm?” knowing he’d tell her anyway. She turned her eyes away, pretending to fix the ribbon in her hair. It was becoming less and less enjoyable to sit back and let him talk, this time. She was starting to see where this conversation would end. She knew what she needed to do.

“I just keep thinking, what are we going to do about Mahiru?”

“What do you mean?”

She was met with a dumbfounded look. 

“We can’t just let her go in there by herself! Haruka and Shidou have some size and strength on Es, so like a coward they only showed a bit of force. But they know you and Muu were much smaller and weaker, so they really took it out on you both. I mean, I could hear Muu crying during her interrogation, and she came out still sniffling. Whatever the hell happened, it can’t be good. Just think of what’ll happen to Mahiru if we leave her alone in there! I’ve started thinking about what we can do.”

She laughed, picking up a headband. “Fuuta, you can’t do anything. It’s not like you’d be able to break in during the interrogation. I’m sure Mahiru-san will be just fine.”

“You can’t be sure, in a place like this. I’ve been thinking about this! I was even talking to Kotoko, and we think it’s possible to sneak in beforehand.”

“And if you get caught? What if you get Mahiru-san in more trouble?”

It was all she could think to say. She knew the truth had to come out eventually, but if there was a chance she could calm Fuuta down and avoid a fight altogether, she’d take it. Yuno wasn’t afraid of him. However, just because he was all bark and no bite didn’t make his bite any easier to handle. If she was putting the pieces together correctly, it still did end up killing someone…

Instead of slowing down, his face lit up with even more intensity. He leapt to his feet, appearing behind Yuno in the mirror. “See, that’s where my backup plan comes in! We’ll get the others involved. An interrogation will be the perfect time to stage a riot because –”

“Oh, Fuuta.”

“– I mean it! How are they and that stupid rabbit going to stop all of us, huh? It’s high time we stood up to this injustice! Give that brat a taste of their own medicine –”

“Just, listen for a second.”

“– We won’t use any violence or anything! Unlike them, we’re above that. Just give them a good scare, and demand that they –”

“Fuuta.”

“What?” He sounded exasperated, but paused to let her speak. She hadn’t raised her voice; he was learning to tell when she was serious.

“There’s... something I need to tell you.” Her tone made it clear that this would be a pretty weighty confession. Annoyance flashed across his face, like is now really the time for this? 

Yuno turned to face him. She reached for his hands, knowing the wonders a bit of physical contact can do. Fuuta just rolled his eyes as he tore his hands away. She was constantly reminded that her usual tricks didn’t work on him. She also reminded herself, however, that it was a relief. She didn’t feel like holding hands now.

“I… I wasn’t honest about my interrogation. Es didn’t touch me. They were actually really calm, and we had a good conversation. They didn’t want the others to hear that and just walk all over them, so I promised to tell the story they came up with. I heard Muu talking, and she didn’t face any violence either. She was just scared.”

“You – she – what?” Fuuta sputtered on his words. His face turned a few shades redder than it already had been in his excitement.

“The lie wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, or drag out this long. Definitely not to the point of inspiring a prison riot, oh god. I felt bad that you even went after Es because of it–”

“Yeah!” His voice rose. “I stood up to them for you! I coulda gotten punished for that!”

“No, Es knew why you did it, so I’m sure they never would have –”

“You can’t be sure!” He turned to pace the cell, emotion leaking out in sudden pitches in his voice, or a hand jerking up in wild gestures. “So when were you planning on telling me? Or were you just going to lie to my face for another few months?”  She could see the gears turning in his head – all the arguments and comebacks and insults he was formulating. “And what else have you been lying to me about?” 

That’s when she noticed that the look in his eyes wasn’t one of rage. Nor was the blood in his cheeks. Though he was indeed angry, he was also dealing with the embarrassing truth of being lied to for months.

“I haven’t lied about anything else,” she assured him. She bowed her head. “And I won’t. I’m so sorry. It was supposed to be something quick that everyone forgot about. Once they had their interrogation and had their own impression of the warden, no one would think about it.”

“You expect me to believe a shitty excuse like that? Why would we all just forget?”

“Fuuta…” She smiled sadly. “Everyone did forget. You’re the only one who still talks about it. You’re the only one who’s done anything in response. I felt so guilty you’d put yourself out like that, for me, someone you barely met.” 

Yuno paused. She hadn’t meant to use any flattery to steer the conversation. She was supposed to just tell him the truth and leave it at that.

But this wasn’t flattery. She was still speaking the truth. “Everyone else did exactly what I expected, except you. You stood up for me. I don’t take that lightly, okay? I’m grateful.”

Fuuta’s eyes burned with more fury. He jabbed a pointing finger at her.

“You’re right!” 

“...eh?”

“Those bastards didn’t do a single thing! They heard a young girl got abused and they just let it happen? They tried laughing it off? How dare they!” He whirled around. “Oh, I’m gonna give them a –”

Yuno grabbed the back of his uniform “You aren’t going to do anything. If you get everyone riled up now, it’ll be for nothing, remember? But you can’t tell. I still promised Es I’d keep their secret through the first trial.”

“Tch, you don’t owe them shit.”

“If you tell, you’ll get me in trouble. Please.” She let go of him. “Can I trust you with this?”

He kept his back to her. “You didn’t before.”

“You’re right.” She wasn’t the type to waffle around with excuses.

She started putting away her things. It was almost mealtime, and she didn’t have the heart to continue, anyway. Through the mirror, she watched Fuuta hang around the doorway. His expression shifted through emotions that Yuno couldn’t quite put her finger on. All his fire was fizzling out.

“Just… you swear it won’t happen again?” 

“I swear.”

Fuuta nodded. Then, a grin. “And you swear I can tell them off after this trial ends?”

She returned the smirk. “One promise at a time, ’kay?”

[thetoaddaddy]

idk a drabble

Jiraiya debated for a moment. His thumbs along the edge of his pants. Then he commits and pulls them off. He kicks off the body armour next so he’s just in his underwear. Well… might as well just take it all off at this point.

Travelling around old nooks and crannies of the world meant stumbling across interesting things. A slope led to what looked like a cave, which in reality was just an arch carved into the stone. Vines reclaimed it. Carved stone slabs laid a path to a spring. Where a rather large statue was seated in the middle. She’s beautiful. And she’s long been abandoned.

That’s not why he undressed. He isn’t desperate enough to go at a piece of carved rock. For some reason he just felt like he couldn’t enter the water with clothes on. So they’re in a pile on the ground. He steps in and finds the water isn’t cold. Nor is it by any means hot.

So here he is. Naked and wading in clear blue water that goes to his thighs. Staring at a long forgotten icon unsure what to do about it now. He simply just finds her intriguing. At her feet are small wooden bowls. Empty. There’s old staining along the pedestal she’s standing on. No other identifying features or signs of what she was an icon of or why she was left behind.

Why were you abandoned?

Seems like a silly question to ask a piece of rock. It’s not like she knows he’s here. But.. he might as well take advantage of it. It’s rare to find something so pretty and isolated. At least he can take a bath in peace. Maybe he’ll find something as he swims around. Perhaps he’ll camp here for the night.

It’d be a shame to leave a beautiful lady by herself wouldn’t it? She’s been alone for a long time and he’d hate to see her sad to be deprived of his presence.

[bitterkarmaa]

*stands ominously in your doorway*

HELLO THERE! I have some prompts for KC and Solar Flare and/or Eclipse to offer if i may because i'm having brainworms from when you said KC would adopt Solar JGKIFLGH

44. “This is not who you are. I know you better than that.”

69. “You don’t have to say anything, I’ll do the talking.”

71. “What did I do wrong!?”

(AGAIN i don't expect for all to be done or even any at all ahsfkfd just one if you feel up to it! Since i couldn't decide which prompt to choose so i'm leaving it to you gjdfkh)

I’m getting back into these I prommy 💔

“What did I do WRONG?!”

-KillCode, Eclipse, & Solar Flare-

The hallway seemed longer than usual. His footsteps echoed throughout the corridor in an almost haunting fashion, but it did little to deter him from his objective.

Moon had mentioned that things were going missing in the theater, and Eclipse was getting tired of convincing him, time and time again, that Blood Moon had nothing to do with it.

Besides, he needed to check in with him after…

He shakes his head so hard it rattles his sight, forcing him to blink a few times to clear it. He can’t think like that right now. It’ll distract him. Besides, Kill Code had to practically shove Eclipse out of the room after a day of his hovering, so surely he must’ve been fine if he had the strength to do such a thing.

But what if something has happened since I was last here?

Eclipse would never admit that he speeds up his pace after that thought, that his strides become longer and more pronounced. The jog to the door takes him little more than a few minutes with his increased pace, claws coming out to grasp the handle before he pauses.

He can hear talking coming from inside the room. He strains his audio receptors, trying to make out any words through the surface of the door.

He catches little more than the tone with which the voices speak in, calm and almost warm in nature. He hesitates far longer than he intends to, listening attentively to those voices mingling together in the room beyond.

One is Kill Code.

The other isn’t.

His claws close around the handle, shoving the door open with much more force than necessary. It crashes back against the wall with a SLAM that startles Kill Code and-

Eclipse narrows his eyes. Who the hell is that?

It looks like a fucking hedgehog.

Round marigold eyes stare back at him, curiosity clear on its face despite the fact that its mouth is held in a seemingly permanent grin, sectioned off by bars like a jail cell. Orange and yellow spikes of various shades protrude from its head, giving it the appearance of a cartoon character after a particularly intense gust of wind.

It stands just slightly shorter than Eclipse does, maybe half the height of Kill Code. Eclipse looks it up and down multiple times, studying it closely.

He’s so surprised by its close proximity to his father that he doesn’t immediately notice what is clutched in its hands, but when he does register it…

A stuffed animal. A grey stuffed animal with worn fabric and rough fur, carefully stitched together in places. A cute little black plastic nose, turned at an odd angle, haphazardly attached to its face as if having previously fallen off.

A single brown eye, clouded with age.

Eclipse lets out a rabid, guttural snarl.

“How dare you touch him-“

The scarred animatronic surges forwards with the ferocity of a wild animal, a crazed glint gleaming from the depths of his single functioning eye.

The smaller animatronic-hedgehog-thing makes no move to back away or beg for mercy Eclipse is surely not willing to give, instead standing with its head tilted slightly to the side, watching him approach in a calm manner.

But, before Eclipse can reach the intruder, Kill Code blocks his path. It narrows its eyes into glowing red slits, glaring down at its fuming son.

“Are you crazy?!” Eclipse hisses, one of his hands bolting out, grabbing hold of Kill Code’s arm, pulling him closer. The larger animatronic watches Eclipse carefully, but makes no attempt to pull away.

“Solar Flare will do no harm. Not to me, not to you, and not to your precious little wolf.” It quips, tone deadpan, borderline apathy dripping from its voice box.

“Fucking who?” Eclipse grits out through clenched teeth, his grip on his father’s arm tightening. Something wild and dangerous writhes in the depths of his gaze - a caged animal fighting tooth and claw to escape its prison.

Kill Code has seen it before. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

“Solar Flare.” It repeats, finally prying its arm free from Eclipse’s claws.

“That doesn’t explain much! Why is it here? What is it doing with Mr. Howls? Why was I not informed that Mr. Howls was here the entire time? Where the hell have you been hiding him?” The scarred black and amber animatronic starts firing off questions, earning a slightly disgruntled look from the beast that towers before him.

“Calm down. Your anger will not serve you well here.”

“You’re one to talk!” Eclipse fires back, taking a step closer to his father, if only to try and get past him. His attempt is thwarted by Kill Code shoving him back with a single hand.

“Stop. I mean it, Eclipse.” A warning hangs behind Kill Code’s carefully measured tone, leaning down to look his son directly in the eye. “Just as you once needed guidance, Solar Flare does, too. It’s unfair to judge before you truly know who they are.”

For a moment, all Eclipse’s anger dissolves into a sense of complete and utter disbelief. His gaze is lost, searching his father’s eyes for anything that may deny the conclusion Eclipse is slowly coming to.

His eye flits over to this ‘Solar Flare,’ those slender claws still curled so confidently around Eclipse’s old friend. It continues to look on quietly, unwilling to interrupt or stand up for itself in any way, shape, or form.

A coward. This thing is a coward.

Eclipse’s stare trails back to Kill Code’s unrelenting glare. Something is there, something in his eyes that Eclipse feels belongs to him, something that shouldn’t be felt for anyone else.

Protectiveness.

Kill Code is protective of that thing?

“Guidance? You…you’re guiding that thing?” Eclipse asks incredulously, a guarded edge to his voice.

“In a sense. The same way I guided you.” Kill Code confirms cautiously.

The fury comes back full force. “You mean the same way you raised me?”

He’s shaking now. His hands are curled into fists, white light glowing beneath his chassis. Cracks arc through his body, crawling up his neck, twisting down his arms.

Kill Code straightens himself out, letting out a calm hum. “I would suppose so. Is that a problem?”

Just saying ‘yes’ wouldn’t have been enough to portray the livid expression on Eclipse’s face. There was no word that could match his wrath.

“I never expected an act of betrayal from you.” Eclipse’s blind eye flickers to life, glowing a hazy marigold, slowly fading to a sharp, vibrant white. “Perhaps I should have.”

Am I so easily replaceable?

Kill Code watches him closely, noticing the changes to his appearance almost as quickly as they come.

He knows the Star’s influence when he sees it. It’s frighteningly hard to miss.

“I believe you’re misinterpreting this…” The former security bot begins with slight hesitance, taking a step back as his son, in turn, advances.

“No. No, I’m reading this loud and clear.” Eclipse’s voice twists, darkening even as The Star’s whispers brighten each mark it creates. He feels it whirring in his chest, warning him to stop, to back down, but he’s too lost to listen.

“Eclipse, listen to me! Solar Flare is not a threat to you!” Kill Code shouts, taking on a defensive stance despite his words.

Even as a manic grin spreads across Eclipse’s face, tears unmistakably gather in his eyes. He stalks closer. A wild animal, lost in the hunt, just as he was time and time again in a life he promised to leave behind.

“Threat? Threat?! Ha! I could crush that thing like a bug if I pleased! I’m not worried about threats anymore, father.” A crazed voice controlling infinite power, white streaks of light dancing between his claws. Oil foams at his mouth, his body crumpling under the pressure.

But he feels nothing. Nothing but rage and despair.

Those words have become so familiar to him.

Kill Code lets out a heavy sigh, shaking its head as if at a loss for words.

“In fact, it seems more like a pest than anything else.” The tone is tainted with disgust, flicking a claw off to the side in a lazy manner for emphasis. “Taking up your space, taking up your time…I can fix that. I can solve this little pest problem of your’s.”

Kill Code seems startled by the offer, but his expression hardens into cold resolve not long after. Apathy anchors him down.

“They’re not a problem. You, currently, are.”

Eclipse takes another step. “What’s changed? That’s all I’ve ever been to you, right? A problem? A nuisance? A distraction?” With every syllable, he gets closer, closing the distance in a tauntingly slow fashion.

Kill Code’s mouth falls into a faint frown. “I’ve never given that implication before. You scavenged that on your own, boy.”

He doesn’t even realize how much damage he’s caused. He doesn’t care.

Suddenly, Eclipse wants to be new again. Wants to relive the moments he spent with Kill Code leaning over his shoulder, watching him work, training him behind the scenes to protect the children if it ever became necessary for him to do so on his own.

Wants to be loved, without room for doubt.

His claws come up, hooking loosely, feebly, into the front of his vest, over the place where his scar hides. It aches fiercely, even as the raw power surges freely through his body. It crawls like ants beneath his plating, tingling in uncomfortable ways, wearing him down wire by wire, component by component.

It eats him alive, only to return that life to him so that it can repeat the process all over again.

Kill Code reaches out a tentative hand to his son, watching him closely, listening to his rapid breaths, borderline hyperventilations. He knows he’s made the wrong move moments before Eclipse reacts.

Those marigold, white-tinted claws come up, burning through the fabric of Kill Code’s sleeve effortlessly, digging into his wrist. The metal melts beneath his grip, the soft sizzling of the wires within following not far behind.

Kill Code retaliates on instinct, swiping his good leg low enough to knock Eclipse’s feet out from under him. Once he is off balance, Kill Code wrenches his arm free of his grasp, allowing him to collide harshly with the ground.

A paw is placed over his chest, enough pressure applied to drive the breath out of Eclipse’s vents, some of his strength ebbing with it.

His father glares down at him in cold disappointment. “I was not around to witness the cruelty that rumors say you wrought, but I understand where it comes from. I know it better than anyone else ever will. I made mistakes with you, Eclipse. But that doesn’t mean your tendencies have become a stranger to me. I wish not to pass these on any further. You don’t have the right to stop me from trying again.”

Eclipse leans his head back against the floor, tears flooding his eyes, warping his sight. He’s cried more in front of Kill Code than anyone else he’s ever known.

Those tears were his father’s fault, after all, and it seems that pattern has no intent to stop.

“What’s so wrong with me, huh? What’s so bad that you feel the need for a do-over, a second chance, a fucking redemption?” Eclipse’s voice slowly raises until it has become a shout of anguish, his charged emotions only further fueling The Star’s influence.

“WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!”

A sharp ringing is the only warning. It raises in pitch until it becomes unbearable, then abruptly cuts off as a loud BOOM echoes throughout the room.

Kill Code is thrown like a ragdoll, tossed aside with such ease that it almost seems impossible.

But The Star makes things possible. Like chucking an 11 foot animatronic across a large cement room.

Kill Code hits the ground with a resounding crash, rolling a few times before coming to a stop, lying still and silent.

But Eclipse isn’t done. He staggers to unsteady feet and begins to lumber across the room. The side of his body that possesses The Star is scorched and melted. His metal plating is bent backwards from the force of the blast, revealing smoking wires and sparking components.

He hovers over his father like a statue, oil slowly dripping to the floor at his feet.

He hadn’t intended to hurt him. He hadn’t intended to blow his arm off and melt it down to the endoskeleton, or completely shatter the casing around his shoulder.

His gaze slowly turns towards Solar Flare, of whom stands near the opposite wall with Mr. Howls still clutched in its hands.

“You…” Eclipse’s voice comes out as a distorted snarl, glitching and rattling. It cuts out at the end with the whine and crackle of a dying speaker, a few sparks flying from his voice box. The moment he begins stalking towards Solar Flare, the other animatronic, in turn, flees.

“I believe you are acting irrationally.” For the first time, it speaks, tone flat and unbearably standardized, as if those settings hadn’t yet been touched.

No matter. Eclipse doesn’t need its voice.

“I don’t care.” He says in equal measure, lifting his hand in a vague motion towards the door. The lock clicks and slides closed, deadbolt following suit.

“Oh no. You wish to harm me, don’t you?”

“No. I’m not going to harm you.” Eclipse watches the other bit skid to a stop, peering at him expectantly.

And he grins, reaching out towards it and closing his claws into a fist, a white crack crossing the floor faster than any being ever could. The crack seems to root itself in Solar Flare, dragging it closer to Eclipse as the deranged, broken and twisted animatronic makes a pulling motion with his hand. It struggles against invisible bonds, trying to free itself from his wrath.

But no one can fight The Star, and so, in turn, no one can fight him.

Marigold claws close around a surprisingly solid metal neck, that smile stretching, pupils nothing more than blazing pinpricks amongst an abyss of sadistic glee.

“I’m going to kill you.”

Then, with a strike as quick as the blink of an eye, the world goes dark.

[revasserium]

h a i k y u u m a s t e r l i s t

gen tags: all; fluff ; nsfw ; angst ; daydreams

k a r a s u n o

kageyama ; hinata ; tsukishima ; yamaguchi ; tanaka ; nishinoya ; asahi ; sugawara ; daichi ; ukai jr

t r a i n i n g c a m p

kuroo ; kenma ; yaku ; taketora ; inuoka ; bokuto ; akaashi

s p r i n g t o u r n a m e n t

oikawa ; iwaizumi ; ushijima ; shirabu ; tsutomu ; atsumu ; osamu ; suna ; kita

a l l s t a r s

sakusa; hoshiumi

h i g h l i g h t r e e l s

kageyama:

found among the ruins; fluff and angst, tobio character study

universal truths; fluff, an angel and a reaper fall in love

hinata:

punctuation; fluff, just fluff

length of daylight; fluff; post-timeskip

tsukishima:

the butterfly effect; fluff

hate; fluff and angst

oikawa:

love as one of the dead languages; fluff, assassin!au

so this is how the summer ends; angst, some fluff

iwaizumi:

grey gardens; fluff, soulmates!au

sakusa:

seductive danger; fluff

kita shinsuke:

100% love; fluff

kenma:

neverending daydreams; fluff and trippiness, kenma isn't a daydreamer...

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

whumptober day one :]

(this is my first time participating in this so lmk if I tag or label things wrong lmao)

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.” Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

cws: none, I don't think!

“Let’s sit you down, okay?” Whumpee blinks hard, trying to reorient themself as they get pushed into a sitting position.

“This is stupid,” they mutter. “I’m fine. Really. You’re being dramatic.”

“Mm. I actually don’t think you’re being dramatic enough. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Whumpee drags their eyes up, trying to focus on the hand that was in front of their face. Six, they think, but there aren't that many fingers on Caretaker’s hand, so they let their head drop again. “I don’t know. Leave me alone.”

[milaswriting]

Without being too spoilery, given that A and P were born into the supernatural world but K and B weren't, what was the intro to it for the latter, i.e. did they know about it before being turned or not?

B had no idea at all, none whatsoever, so I think in that way they relate to the mc and because they fully remember and appreciate what it’s like being human. Now, even though the supernatural world gave them the friends they’ll keep for life and they’re always grateful, their whole process of turning into a werewolf and having to live with it is difficult for them.

K, they had the faintest idea about the supernatural world, but nothing confirmed. The supernatural world was always a ‘what if?’ thought for them, one they never shared with anyone. Their turning experience was as (even more) traumatic as B’s, but even though they had that thought about the supernatural world, they were still extremely shocked by it.

[yearninflowers]

I've been hearing my friends ramble about the new HSR update and I noticed one particular thing. Phainon is unexpectedly very cheerful and full of smile despite his 'counterpart' in HI3 (Kevin) is all about being silent and serious. I find it hilarious how contrasting their personalities are.

[raitrolling]

Aren't I hurting anyone? Perhaps it's time for me to tear apart For what it is I've been Denote my place within humanity Projecting by my will I've been amassing solid iron claws Ignore the rottenness My recitals will decay in a flash

Happy birthday @cloudbattrolls! my buddy, my pal, my partner in writing hilarious and occasionally deeply cursed crimes

here's your blender gremlin :]

(full view)

[disappearinginq]

10? (Promise last one!)

I think the A-Team is a fandom we share, right?

"I can't find a pulse!"

They’d been through some horrifying times. It seemed like their years together just blurred into one fantastic adrenaline high.

This was worse.

Face was underwater too long. They should’ve noticed sooner.

Murdock felt one of his friend’s ribs creak and pop beneath his fingers as BA kept his fingers on the side of Face’s neck.

“Come on!” Murdock pressed down violently and suddenly Face lurched upwards, spewing seawater as he hacked and coughed while BA shoved him sideways so he wouldn’t drown. Again.

“I think you broke something,” Face complained, gasping.

“No. I fixed something.”

[eatdivines]

this   is    a    bit    of    a    split     headcanon,    with    the    prettiest    of   foxes;     @girlfox!    i   just   wanted   to   re-iterate,   that   on   this   blog;   ahri   reverts   back   to   nature   &   her   nurtured   attitude   is   out   the   window.

my   ahri   having   golden   eyes   because   she's   still   wild;   eating   and   devouring   even   the   most   awful   of   things   to   survive—   including   vile   people   and   their   souls  .   she   doesn't   care   where   nutrition   comes   from,   just   that   it   does.   her   eyes   are   like   a   muddy   brown/gold   in   my   interpretation  ,    while    kaeri's   are   a   rich,  sapphire   blue  .    besides    the    difference    in    eye    color,    they    are    very    much   one    and    the    same  .     one    is    the    girl    who    wishes    to    be    loved,    despite    her    flaws    &    her    wildness;    she    wishes    to    be    close    to    another    being.    however,    nature    will    take    it's    course;    &    she    will    devour    anything    with    a    heartbeat.    her    maw    is    bloodied,    &    her    claws    ever    sharpened.    she    is    wilderness    and    fear    itself.

however;    kaeri's    word's    exactly about her portrayal :    the    fun    part    is    that    she    hasn't    truly    abandoned    this    part    of    her,    she    still    very    much    maims    &    kills    and    devours    hungrily,    but    she    just    claims    to    have    control    of    it    :    as    if    she's    not  giving    in    to    hunger,    but    reigning    it.    it's    true    that    she's    really    not    as    wild    and    feral    &    unhinged    about    it    anymore,    she's    just    more    calculating    and    nimble    with    her    kills,    and    in    a    way    her    mind    lets    her    think    that    makes    it    any    better .    in    reality,    it's    the    same    thing    with    a    pretty    coat    of    paint    on    it.

my    ahri    is    true    to    her    nature;     &    she    feels    pity    for      those      who    are    not    true    to    themselves.    she,    while    desiring    a    love    so    passionate    it    burns--------    cannot    imagine    herself    throwing    away    everything    she's    ever    known...     watching    her    reflection    with    this    pretty    veil...    she    can't    help    but    feel    her    heart    break    again.

[hardygalwrites]

Originally posted to FFN around the 20th of March, 2017

Simply archiving a writing challenge I did back in 2016 up to 2017 and featuring my favourite writing pieces from each week of the challenge here on Tumblr :]

← Week 31 (KO) – Week 33 (BB) →

Cartoon: Transformers Prime / Robots in Disguise 2015

Characters: Smokescreen, Knock Out, and Bumblebee, with appearances from numerous other characters (even ones not featured in the cartoons)

Synopsis: An Autobot Elite Guard rookie, a Decepticon medic turned Autobot, and an Autobot scout turned warrior turned street cop - three very different bots with a wide range of stories to tell. And we are going to spend the next year exploring said stories through daily-written drabbles, be they angsty, humorous, gut-punching, or just plain odd! Who doesn’t love a challenge? (2016 to 2017)

—

Negative

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"Unless the meaning has changed recently," Knock Out retorted. "It means exactly what it sounds like."

"But you've completed this 'Synth-En' before," First Aid said earnestly. "I'm sure you can do it again. And with my help-"

"It's not like I think I can no longer synthesize the Synth-En," Knock Out snapped, offended. "I can, it's just that the formula is incomplete and thus dangerously unstable."

"So will you try to complete it?"

"No."

First Aid had to contain a frustrated groan. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"Primus, do you need a dictionary?"

I Will Survive

"Well, isn't this just grand," Knock Out snarled. "Crashed in the middle of nowhere, comm. link damaged, finish decimated, with you."

"Relax," Bumblebee said. "The others should have a lock on our signals. Once they realize we haven't checked in for awhile, they should come looking for us. Until then, we just need to sit tight."

"Yes, the use of the word 'should' just fills me with confidence. And need I remind you that this was once a hotspot for Insecticon hives?"

"Knock Out, the planet's been dead for years. I doubt-"

On cue, an Insecticon cry sounded from not too far away.

Something Wicked

Knock Out had never been fond of Ultra Magnus, and that lack of fondness was solidified when the commander had him lead a squad to track down the source of the 'infection.'

The moon was already eerie, with its dead landscapes and utterly silent air. The fact that they were there to track down an energon vampire already well-known for being a skilled huntress did not lessen the eeriness whatsoever. Everyone was tense, unsure what to prepare for. Honestly, they were a human horror film just waiting to happen.

"Hey, where's Smokescreen?"

Knock Out sighed, lowering his scanner. "So it begins..."

Not in the Job Description

Knock Out flicked dust away from the edges of his buffer. "How good are you at detailing?"

"I don't know. Why?" First Aid asked, a little wary.

"Well, I can't have just anyone helping me maintain this finish," Knock Out huffed.

First Aid stared at him. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that being your personal buffer is not in my job description."

"You're my employee. Your job description is anything I want it to be."

"Employee? But... you don't even pay me!"

Knock Out scoffed. "I'm not being paid either, but you don't see me moaning about it now, do you?"

[for-ests]

When I talked to the moon last night, I told her about you.

husband!gojo x reader drabble. he loves his wife SO much. just little romantic rituals.

∘∙∘☾𖤓∘∙∘

Shirtless, leaning against the railing of his balcony, Gojo exhaled blissfully. The curtains from inside flapped against the wind, reminding him that he hadn’t slid the doors shut. But he didn’t mind, as he was able to view your half-covered body tangled in his sheets, chest rising and falling in slow, peaceful breaths. A smile on your face despite the deep slumber he lulled you into. 

Satoru did promise that you would never fall asleep without a smile on your face if you married him. 

And he was proud to keep it. 

You were everything to him, and he found a routine to follow after making love to you—wandering out to his balcony to thank the moon, the stars, or whatever was shining down on him from above. Like he often did as a child, gazing up at the moon as if it contained all of life’s answers, as if its wisdom whispered the key to your happiness. 

Satoru found solace in the moon. And when the moon told him about the sun, he told the moon about you. The brightest, most important star in his universe. Nothing would ever outshine you in his mind. 

He was so lucky to have you, and a day never passed without him acknowledging it. 

Overcome with emotion, Satoru’s fingers tightened around the metal railing, slumping over it, as if he was afraid to keep gazing at the moon and its brilliance. The same overwhelming understanding washed over him. Gazing up at the moon was the equivalent of looking into your eyes. 

Such beauty. An indescribable force. You. His Goddess. How lucky he was to have you by his side, in his bed, in his life. 

The brightness from outside shined so perfectly into your eyes, that they flickered open. As you sat up, the first thing you saw was your husband on the balcony, deep in thought. 

The muscles of his back seemed to contort under the moonlight. Your husband was so melodramatic. 

“Is it a full moon tonight?” You whispered groggily from behind, not giving him a moment to reply before embracing him and resting your head against his back. 

He didn’t need to ask why you joined him, as the first few times he asked, you always mumbled a cute and tired, “Toru, you know I can’t sleep without you.” 

Chuckling softly, Gojo turned around to face you and pulled you into his chest. “Look for yourself, my love,” he whispered, pressing a light, gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Exhaling, your nose scrunched, a playful glint in your eyes as you glanced up at him. Every time he held you so tightly, so carefully and protectively, you felt like you were falling in love with him all over again. 

The brightness of the moon was clear, and it seemed to light up the entire sky, casting shadows along the drifting clouds, and highlighting Gojo’s features. Sometimes, it was hard to believe he was your husband. How lucky you were. 

“What is the moon saying tonight?” you teased with a lighthearted tone. 

Satoru claimed that the moon told him to marry you, after all. You are my sun, Y/N. He whispered every time he had to depart from you. 

Without the sun, the moon would know nothing but darkness. And every morning, the light and joy you greeted him with was an everlasting reminder that he found his other half. 

Glancing back to the stars dotting the sky, hardly visible from the moon’s brilliance, Gojo’s eyes twinkled. “The moon congratulated me.” 

Arms slipping around his waist, you questioned in a curious murmur. “For what?” 

His head tilted back to gain a better look at you. “Somehow convincing you to marry me.” He smiled sleepily, leaning down to capture your lips again. Kissing you would never grow tiresome, it was the action he looked forward to most every morning and every night. It was like he would die without it. 

“Well the sun knows it didn’t take much convincing.” You took both of his hands in yours and tugged him back to the door’s entrance. “But maybe I can ask it again in the morning.” 

“Just to make sure?” He smiled. 

Falling back into the king-sized bed, you sighed innocently, beckoning Gojo to follow you. Once he did, you cuddled up next to him. One hand on his cheek, you pressed your lips against his. 

“The sun makes no mistakes, my love,” you mumbled against his lips. 

[thecoochiefairy]

xxx. suguru.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.4K word count. blackfem!reader, drabble, roleplay, non-consensual consent, rough sex/rough play, dominant suguru, black woman, vaginal penetration, hair pulling, creaming, squirting, choking, knife play, oral [f] [m], praising, size kink, overstimulation, degrading, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, doggy style, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ this may not be everyone’s tea. for sure one of the hottest things i wrote in my book of eroticas. enjoy, cause i did. dedicated to my mocha, @st4rbwrry ,she asked me to do this for her once.

nasty links, ya nasty— bounce. take it like a good girl. ooh, you’re so good for me.

SCARY MOVIES WEREN’T YOUR THING. They were simply a morbid curiosity, especially in your household. Your father was an extremely Christian man, anything seemingly too creepy or Halloween affiliated was the work of the devil. A god-fearing man, yes—But nothing was more terrifying than your boyfriend. 

Suguru Getou. It was like a hushed name within the night, calling him three times like CandyMan, even a cross wouldn’t keep him away from you. You were a Christian woman as well, but not as harshly as your father. You had your own questions, moralities, beliefs. You didn’t judge anyone based on their views—you never judged him. 

Meeting him within the bookstore as you went to pick up a pink Bible, your cheeks went warm as you accidentally dropped the book in your hand on the way out—he then noticed the second one you clutched to your chest, never noticing it was a deeply egregious erotica. His tattooed hand gripped the object off of the ground, veiny and large as he handed it back to you. You were a beauty to him. 

Freckles along your cheeks, button nose and slender eyes with bohemian goddess braids, flyaways sticking to your round face. He caught sight of the golden cross that sat in between your breasts, the dark inked skull tattooed along your neck giving him whiplash. When you bent down to reach for the book, he caught back dermals just above the yoga pants you wear, long sleeve top clinging to your frame. Your voice was sweet, the blush of your cheeks delineated innocence, even if the sight of you didn’t.  You were pure to him. 

At least…he thought you were. 

You were sitting along your bed, the sheer white canopy atop of it paired with champagne lights hung all around the ceiling. Your background played SCREAM, one of your favorite horror movies that Suguru had introduced you to, as you were a little afraid to watch them by yourself—but he was busy tonight, and you figured you’d face your fears. 

Your glasses hung on the tip of your nose as you were more hyper-focused in your book, the sexual endeavors of the characters making your thighs rub together a bit, a highlighter in between your plump lips as you wanted to remember all the best parts. Your attention was pulled away as you heard rustling coming from your open window along the second floor of the house, enjoying the cool air of the night. You frown, lowering your book. You listen. 

Nothing comes in return, so you go back to your book. The rustle happens again. You narrow your eyes, standing from the bed as you go towards your window in preparation to just close it. That’s when a knock comes on your door, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. You were always jumpy.

You go towards the door, tightening the robe you wear, pushing your glasses upon your nose as you open it. It’s your father. 

Giving him a warm smile, you greet, “Hi, Daddy. All packed up for your trip?”

“Yup. All packed up and ready to go, sweetie. Did you remember everything?”

A gentle yet stern tone comes from him. One you were used to hearing by now. The tall, strong yet slender man gave a soft smile before speaking once more.

“You’ all right? You seem a bit startled.”

You sigh, “Been watching scary movies again—it’s only the first ten minutes where the girl gets a weird phone call. I thought I could handle watching it alone—unfortunately, I’m a wuss. Are you heading out to the airport now?”

Your father let out a soft chuckle.The first ten minutes always got to you somehow. To his dismay, this was why you had Suguru at your side to comfort you when you needed it. But he wasn’t here tonight.

“I’m about to head out now. I was hoping I would be able to see you one more time before I get on the plane.”

“You’re such a big teddy bear,” you poke fun, “I’ll walk you to the door,” you offer, pushing on your bunny slippers as you follow behind him downstairs. You lived in a big house, taking ages to get anywhere whether it was a bedroom or bathroom.

The man rolled his eyes though he couldn’t help a soft smile, amused from the way you teased him. He loved you, all too much. 

Once you both get downstairs, you go to the front door where your father picks up his bags and checks to see if he had everything. He spoke again, a frown appearing once more.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright in the house by yourself? I know you’re not always fond of being alone at night.”

“I think I’ll survive,” you give him a warm smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sigh, “I love you, okay? Be safe.”

He wraps his strong arms around your frame, hugging you close to his form as he kisses your forehead. He loved you more than words could describe. You were his little girl, after all.

“I love you too. I’ll call you once I get to the hotel, alright?”

You give him a final wave as he makes it out to his taxi, blowing a kiss as the vehicle pulls off. You were relieved to get some alone time, and now you could fully dive into your book. You search the pantry as you grab for your sour gummy bears, plopping one into your mouth as you make your way back upstairs. You could hear the sound of screams, knowing the movie was still faintly playing on your TV. But as you enter your bedroom, you notice something. 

Your window was…closed?

You frown. You were certain that you had left the window open, but yet, it was closed. You shake your head, telling yourself that it was nothing and you’d forgotten to close it. 

You release a breath as you mutter, “Girl. Don’t be scaring yourself now.”

With that, you decide to cut off the movie, turning on some soothing music to calm your nerves. You return to your bed soon after, setting your gummy bears down beside you. You’re back to reading—but you can’t shake the raised awareness in the back of your mind.

As you continue to read, you can hear the house's landline going off downstairs. You sigh, pausing your music. You’re quickly making your way downstairs before the call hangs up, pulling the phone to your ear as you speak, “Hello?”

You expected it to be your father, telling you that he had left something behind, or maybe a friend of yours. It would’ve been normal for either. However, you were only greeted with silence for a moment.

But then, you soon hear the sound of a deep voice, an…unfamiliar tone.

“Hello, ❤︎.”

You blink at the voice knowing your name, placing your hand along the table as you speak, “Um—hi. Who is this?”

The voice was deep and alluring. But that didn’t make his familiarity any less uncomfortable. It’s a tone you’ve never heard. It sent chills down your spine.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Let’s keep that a secret for now.”

“Well if it’s a secret, then we don’t need to be talking,” you say, quickly hanging up the phone. 

You frown, wondering if you should call your father. Or Suguru. You didn’t want to worry him as he was on the way to the airport, and his flight would be soon. On top of that, your boyfriend was at work. You decide on grabbing a bottle of water, going to make your way back upstairs—

But that’s when the phone rings again.

Your breathing picks up a little. No, you shouldn’t answer it. You hope it’s a simple prank. Your mind goes back to the movie earlier. You should just ignore the call, or maybe you’re just scaring yourself over something so simple. 

You take the phone back into your hand, answering as you say, “Hello?” More impatient this time. 

Once again, the same deep voice is heard on the other line, though the tone had a hint of annoyance. You could practically feel a sinister smile through the phone.

“Why so impatient now, sweetheart?”

His tone was taunting, almost as if they were making fun of you. It was starting to get under your skin.

“Because you’re playing on my phone. Who is this?” You question again, eyes warily looking around your kitchen. You then make your way over to your front door, unlocking and relocking it for your own security.

There’s a soft, airy chuckle that comes before the voice replies, his tone still playful. Like this was some sort of game to him.

“You’re awfully stubborn, aren’t you? Do you always have this much trouble listening?”

The line goes silent for a moment, though you can still hear faint breaths. Chills run over your body again. You could feel eyes on you. Like someone was watching you at this very moment.

You grip the phone tighter in your hand. You then say, “Suguru, I know this is you. Quit fucking with me because I told you what I was watching earlier. It’s not funny.”

“It’s unfortunate for you that I’m not your boyfriend.” 

It’s like all the small hairs on your body prick up. Your heart begins to stammer in your chest, your eyes blinking. You feel like you’re in a dream.

“…What?”

The tone is no longer playful, instead becoming more…disturbing. But, there’s also a hint of amusement. Like they’re enjoying this. Enjoying you getting frightened.

“I said— I’m not your boyfriend.”

A pause, your heart beating faster. All of this felt so… wrong. Then, the voice continues—

“Though, I wish I was. You look good as fuck in that robe.”

That sentence was chilling. Your entire body went cold, and you felt frozen in your spot. You joked about watching this type of situation in the media. What you would do, how you’d never be as stupid as the character in this scenario. But here you were, unable to move, your heart pounding in your chest.

The voice on the other line chuckles again, his walk heavy as you can hear his steps. Though, he can’t help but become intrigued that he had struck such a nerve in you. You were such a…fascinating little thing. He knew you were shaking.

“Now tell me, ❤︎. Did locking your door make you feel safe?”

You didn’t know if anymore fear could strike through your veins, but you felt paralyzed.

 You try to keep yourself calm as you lie, “My boyfriends gonna be here soon. So I suggest you get the fuck off of my property before he kills you.”

“I don’t like being lied to.” 

The line goes silent again, but your heart still pounds in your chest. Where could he be at this very moment?

“My next suggestion would be that if you’re gonna lock your door…at least check if your window was actually closed.”

From your eyesight, you can see your bedroom. But you can only see the light coming from it, and your heart stops. You don’t have time to be afraid. You just needed to leave.

You slowly back your way towards your front door, continuously watching the outline of your bedroom, as if you were just waiting to see a figure pop out. As soon as your hand reaches the lock, you slowly turn it, reaching for the handle. 

The sound of your window within your room slams shut.

You yank the front door open, going to make a desperate run for the neighbors—

But that’s when a figure is already in front of the door, and as you trip back, you freeze.

A GhostFace mask appears in your sight, the person wearing it tall, broad. The dark shirt clinging to his olive complexion, tattoos scathing along his large arms, holding a chrome Bowie knife. 

Your scream pierces through the door frame as your instincts make you step back, thinking quickly as you take off back into your house.

Letting out a chuckle at your attempt to escape, he steps into the doorway, slamming the door closed as you try to run off. His footsteps were loud and heavy, like he was taking his sweet time, knowing that you were only tiring yourself further.

You eventually find yourself ducking into the next hallway, finding yourself in your father’s cigar room. You find the closet within it, rushing inside as you close the door, holding it towards yourself. Tears want to brim your eyes as your entire body vibrates from the fear, and you clutch your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from crying, hearing as his footsteps become closer.

Your breathing goes ragged and labored, your chest tightening as you try your best to muffle the sound of your hyperventilating. You then hear the footsteps get closer and closer. That’s when they stop right outside of the closet.

At this moment, you stop breathing. You close your eyes, awaiting for the next few moments. Nothing.

Instead, you hear the footsteps begin to echo away, up until you don’t hear them at all. You wait for a moment, wishing you had a phone to call someone. Anyone. But you couldn’t stay in this closet forever.

This was your opportunity to escape. You give it a couple more seconds as you gently push the door open, sliding yourself through the small opening to not cause any noise. You peek down the hallway, seeing nothing again. Yet you hear the sound of footsteps from above, meaning he was checking to see if you’d hidden yourself upstairs. 

You bolt down the hallway and back towards your front door, going to throw it open as you see that large, veiny palm raise over your head, slamming the door shut. Your scream rips from your throat, ducking under the figure, trapped as their hand clasps along your throat, thumb along your jaw.

 All you can see is that mask, your eyes wide as they lock down to the blade coming at your throat, lightly connecting to the skin of it.

He was much bigger than you, broad with a toned muscular body. He could easily have you in a death grip if he wanted. You could feel his hot breath coming from under the mask, staring down at you.

“Please don’t hurt me…” you’re desperate, unable to know what else to say at this moment.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, though he can’t help a soft laugh as he’s just realized something. And it makes him…furious. But he keeps his cool, tightening his grip on you ever so slightly.

Leaning down, he brings his covered face so close to your ear that it makes your skin tingle. He speaks in a low tone. It’s almost a growl.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t lie…” you say, “…I don’t know what you’re talking about…” your eyes roam back and forth, hand pressed along his stomach. It’s hard.

His frame is solid, all muscle and toned. He doesn’t buy your excuse for a second. But he continues to take you in. Your face, your body. Your scent. It’s a mixture of amber and vanilla. He could feel how you trembled in his grip, though a part of him wished he was gripping by your chin, making you look him in the eye. But he was enjoying this. The fear on your face.

“You told me your boyfriend was coming.”

Shit, you did say that. 

You can’t come up with a quick enough excuse. You say, “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

He has a grip on your wrist, dragging you up the stairs as you try to pull away, yet the knife in his other hand keeps you from fighting more than you wanted to. He slams the door of your bedroom, your fearful frame stepping back as you’re trapped inside with him, glancing back over to your window.

At this moment, he has you trapped alone in your bedroom with no one to help you. Yet, you could see his eyes studying you through the mask. Taking in every slight movement of your body. Every shake, every shiver. He was enjoying the sight of you being afraid. It was thrilling.

It felt stupid to plead your case. But you didn’t know what to do. Your brain runs amuck, and you can’t stop yourself as you stupidly say—

“Please don’t hurt me,” you repeat, “I’ll do…I’ll do anything.”

He can’t help the wicked smirk that appears across his features under the mask as he tilts his head, taking a single step closer to you. Like a predator closing in on its prey. The way his eyes remained on you was entrancing. 

“Anything?” 

He repeats, his voice deep.

You clutch the material of your robe, nodding your head in response, your heart in your throat. 

It’s like you’re trying to play detective, eyeing his tattoos, his muscular arms, trying to find a familiarity in his body. Nothing. His onyx shirt clings to him, which almost curves inwards from how fit he was. His ring clad fingers, veins traveling beneath as he clutched his weapon within his hand. A rush of…something else ran within your body. 

What was wrong with you? 

Yet, your fuzzy brain is pulled out of the clouds as you hear his low tone tell you to, “Take off your robe.” 

You blink for a moment. You then give a soft nod, beginning to untie your robe, draping it off your shoulders, dropping it down along the floor. The air in the room hits your skin, the pale pink babydoll slip you wore, your brown nipples showing through the thin fabric. The sheer material glides down to the thong you wear, barely covering your ass, the small bow within the back attached to the lingerie. 

Your body is revealed to him, his eyes gazing over your figure. Yet, he remains still. Though, you can see the rise and fall of his chest become slightly quicker. He just didn’t move, his expression almost unreadable behind the hard, white mask. Silence, all apart from the hammering of the heart that was stuck in your throat.

You can then hear him say, “On your knees. Crawl.” 

And so, you listen. Your palms lead the way, your legs slightly dragging against the carpet as you make your way over to him, slender eyes feline, coaxing. You don’t know why you have the urge to give him a show, but you pause when you’re directly in front of him, politely sitting on the balls of your feet, knees pointed to the floor. 

He towers over you, his large frame making you look so… tiny. Yet, he can’t help but become impressed at the way you had obeyed his request. His dark eyes don’t remove themselves from you for a single moment. Like he’s studying every movement you make.

He was being far gentler than what you expect. He tilts your head by the point of his knife, forcing you to look up at him as he looks down at you through that damn mask.

“You listen good as fuck, pretty.” 

Your eyes blink at him, palms itching along your lap. He then takes his other hand as he runs it through your hair, lightly, as if you were delicate to the touch. Your body tenses as he then gets a grip on your hair, clutching the braids in between his fingers, tugging your head back to fully look at him. 

And he likes it. He likes how you look right now. Your head pulled back, looking up at him. It’s like you were at his mercy. Like you were completely and utterly at his whim. Just how he wanted you.

“Open your mouth for me.”

Another slow flutter of your lashes surpass, and you part your Cupid’s bow lips, sticking your tongue out in the process. 

A sinful grin makes its way across his face, even if you can’t tell. 

He moves the knife's blade to your chin, tipping your jaw a little more up to see you better. His voice is still low as he tells you, “Wider.”

You open your mouth even more, breath hitching as you do so. Your eyes can only search the terrifying white expression, but when you glance down, his body…terrifying wasn’t the exact word you’d use. 

He’s enjoying the way you’re submitting to him. It’s like something within him had woken up. You can see the rise and fall of his chest again, his breathing having picked up slightly. Like it was arousing him. 

“All that fuckin’ mouth you had over the phone. Where’s that shit at now?” 

You lightly dig your teeth into your lip, the tone of his voice through this mask. It’s doing something to you. You’re crazy. But this entire situation is.

Your voice is soft, your own words passing through your mouth before you could think about them.  

“Put something in it, then.”

His fingers come along the side of your jaw, his thumb running over your lip, sliding against your tongue. 

“You’ want it in your mouth?”

You nod your head, eyes glimmering beneath the lights of your room. 

“Suck some fuckin’ dick, then.”

You’re already unbuckling his belt, reaching under his boxers as you pull his length from beneath the compressing fabric. It springs out as it’s already hard, pink tip glistening from the pre-cum, slapping along his belly button in freedom. 

The veins along it make it look terrifying, heavy in your palms as you lean forward, taking in the scent of rum spice and cedar wood against his smooth skin. The olive tone of his complexion is covered by ink, even in the most intimate areas. You drag your tongue along his tip, raising your eyes up, lash extensions flickering like dark butterflies.

You can hear the grunt that comes from his mouth, tugging at your hair as you fully wrap your lips along his tip, swirling your tongue around, enveloping the clean taste of his flesh. You adjust yourself along your knees, arching yourself closer to him, moving your head slowly back and forth, allowing your mouth to collect more inches each time you take him deeper. His tip begins to caress against the roof of your mouth each time you move.

The warm walls of your cheeks hollow his dick, entrapping the heaviness of it as you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as you wrap your small fingers along the base of him, rotating your palm around. Pulling his tip out of your mouth you then drop spit along the veiny flesh, beginning to revolve your hand around, almond brown vision flickering back up to the mask, your other hand running under his shirt, feeling the way his muscles flex within his abdomen.

His hand grips tighter in your hair, pulling you closer to him as you stroke faster. He lets out a low groan, hips bucking slightly, grinding his dick between your lips and hand. You can feel his pulse beating against your fingertips, throbbing with every pass through. He pulls your head back, smearing saliva across your jaw before shoving his tip back into your mouth, sliding all the way to the back of your throat. Your head nuzzles side to side, allowing it to shuffle even deeper, the walls of your throat flexing as you gag.

 You hear his deep voice lowly drop, ”Fuuck...”

You pull your mouth back, cheeks warm on the outside, freckled and lightly hueing a red tint as you softly ask, “Does it feel good?” Slapping his dick along your tongue, kissing the tip in an almost polite way.

“Feels good as fuck,” He grunts, grabbing your chin firmly and tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him. "You’re so fuckin’ sexy. Pull your tit’s out. Go down until you’re rubbing your pussy, I know this shit’ is making you wet.”

He was right, it was. Each time his tip slammed against the back of your throat, your inner thighs became warm as you rubbed them together. You yank down the material of your babydoll slip, exposing your brown nipples, using one hand to lightly rub at the hardening skin, using the other to hold his dick in your hand, dragging your mouth back around the shaft of it. He twitches in your mouth as you start to suckle, slurping heavily, saliva spurting in between the space of your lips each time his balls slam along your jaw. He keeps a grip on your onyx hair tighter—you’re nasty with it, guiding your head up and down erotically.

You then slide your hands down your stomach and thigh, coming around to meet with the inner part of it, brushing your fingers against your clit that throbs along your thong. It almost makes you flinch.

He watches you with lust-filled eyes, the ghost mask seeming to leer as you touch yourself. He feels as you tense up, “Be a big fuckin’ girl and make yourself feel good.” 

He guides your head faster, thrusting into your mouth with increasing force. His balls begin to slap loudly against your chin, precum leaking from the tip to coat your tongue.

“Call me baby,” you protest as you find the space to pull away, immediately going back to keeping your mouth full. You almost break, your voice feeble as you talk, “Want your fingers. Wanna squirt on them…” you can’t stop whining to him, moving your head back and forth, faster to meet the mean pace he gives.

“I know you fuckin’ heard what I said. Sink your fingers in,” he grunts to you, feeling the whimper around his dick, your fingers listening as you drag them down, nudging them at your opening. You can hear how wet you are, but your own aren’t enough. You need more. 

Your other hand is still locked around him, keeping your mouth steady as he has one hand on the back of your head, the other on your jaw, pulling it open wider as he fucks your face. 

“That’s fuckin’ good, baby. Listening good as fuck.”

You become frustrated as you pull back, pouting to him, “I can’t make myself cum…” 

You spit against his tip, now focusing in as it seems to be sensitive. You protect your teeth with your lips, sucking inward as you bob your head up and down, using your throat as you muffle out hums to add to his stimulation, talented in pleasuring him. 

He groans deeply, feeling your tongue continuously swirling around the tip, sending jolts straight to his entire body. 

“Fuck,” he aggressively grunts, “Ooh, shit. Baby. Keep doing that," he growls, his hips jerking slightly as he loses control for a second, pushing deeper into your mouth. "Gonna fill that pretty ass throat up."

That’s when you become more defiant—The pressure in between your legs is almost painful. You need him. You pull yourself back, placing yourself along the bed, spreading your knees apart, arching your back as you press your stomach against the sheets. Your face is tilted backwards to watch him, taking your hands as you spread yourself apart.

“Fill up my pussy, baby,” you whine, pitiful, but you didn’t care.

His eyes darkened with lust as he saw you spread yourself open for him, your juices dripping onto the sheets below. You’re grinding your clit against the pink comforter, making it a darker shade as it becomes drenched. He stalks towards the bed, fully ripping off his clothes in haste, dragging you fully to the end of the bed as his palms locked around your ankles. 

"Shit, look at that pretty ass pussy," he mutters, his gaze fixated on your glistening folds, “You want my cum, huh? Beg for it."

His words are demanding, but there's an underlying tone of pleasure and desire. He's eager to claim you.

But you’re even more eager.

 You grip his arm, pulling him down to where his back is along the sheets, climbing atop of him. You don’t forget to lock your mouth around his tip for a moment, dropping your lips down to reach his abdomen, saliva dragging out of your mouth, dribbling along your chin as you pull back, seeing as his abs tighten, giggling as that makes him give you a harsh spank to your ass. 

Your knees are on each side of him, already wrapping your fingers around his tip, guiding it as you rub it along your clit. 

You whimper, “Wanna slide down on your dick, baby. Tell me I can…”

“Go ‘head. Drop down, slowly.” 

You do as you're told, placing your hand along his stomach as you lean forward, sinking yourself down, his tip plunging in between your tight folds. He was like a monster, attempting to rip you in half. Your eyes lightly roll, your hips spazzing at the feeling. A baby gasp parts from your mouth as he roughly spanks you again, coaxing you to keep going. You sink yourself down farther, the heaviness of your ass sticking against his abdomen, his tip already kissing your cervix, it makes your face contort in an aching pleasure, so fucking horny as you already begin bouncing on him, your pussy squelching as you whimper from the slight pain.

It was like a soreness from a workout, a burn from a meal you couldn’t wait to cool down, you whine messily as you drive yourself wild, clapping your ass down against his thighs.

His eyes follow every movement of your hips, drinking in the sight of your ass slapping against his thighs. The lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh fill the room, mingling with your desperate moans of pleasure. He grips your hips tightly, fingers digging around into the soft flesh of your ass as he begins dragging you to meet your own downward motions.

"Yeah? You’ gonna keep fucking me like that? Like you needed this fuckin’ dick?”

You’re looking back as the skin of your ass shaking in his palms, sobbing already, eyes rolling back as you pout heavily, nodding your head as it falls back, whimpering out messily, “Yes, baby. Been wanting to bounce on your dick just like this…” 

You hiccup, your soft cry echoing along the walls, louder than your skin slapping against his, “So fuckin’ needy for you…”

His thumbs dig deeper into the supple cheeks of your skin, spreading them apart slightly as he watches himself disappear into you over and over.

"Pussy hungry as fuck, sucking my shit in…” He growls low in his throat, the vibrations sending tingles up your spine. 

"Keep going, needy ass fuckin’ girl—fuck,” he lowly moans, head falling back against the bed, mask tilting upwards. His hands move to grip your waist, helping pull you down onto him with force, his thick shaft stretching you impossibly wide. The sensation borders on painful, but the pleasure far outweighs it, making you pathetically cry out in ecstasy.

With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into you hard, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, a sharp cry escaping your lips at the sudden depth. He holds you there, still and deep, letting you adjust to the overwhelming fullness before starting to move once more. His hand is on your shoulder, slamming you back down, sounds erotically implausible. 

"You love this, don't you?" He growls, voice strained with pleasure. "Love being stuffed full of my dick,” His hands slide up your sides, fingers splaying across your ribs as he begins to piston in and out of you with relentless intensity.

He’s like a demon climbing out of hell for the first time. You keep up with him though, keeping your eyes locked on his as you groan, “Love it so fuckin’ much. Gonna’ cum in my tight pussy, baby?” You can hear the grunt he makes from that question, planting your feet along the bed as you raise your hips, dropping them down, “Hit my spot, baby. Wanna squirt all in your mouth soon.”

His grunts deepen into animalistic growls, the force of his thrusts growing harder, faster, more erratic. Sweat drips down from under his mask, tattooed muscles flexing beneath his skin. 

“Nasty ass fuckin’ mouth. I hear you, baby. ‘Gonna' drench me," he rasps, one hand moving between your bodies to rub at your clit in time with his strokes. 

His other hand grips your hip, using it as leverage to slam you down onto him, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with unrelenting precision. The wet squelching of your juices and the slap of skin on skin fills the air, punctuated by your high-pitched moans and his guttural sounds. He's close, you can tell, his movements becoming almost violent in their desperation.

“Fuck me from the back,” you beg, “Come fuck me, baby. That’s how I wanna cum,” you beg him, swirling your hips in circles, dragging your nails along his skin.

He flips you over onto your stomach without hesitation, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his masked gaze. One hand remains gripping your hip while the other moves around to grasp your throat, applying gentle pressure.

"You’ better be fuckin’ me back," he smacks his lips, “Keep asking for shit. Spoiled as fuck.”

With a sharp tug, he rubs his tip in between your folds, the sensitivity making you hiss a bit. But he does the opposite of what you expect, raising you up slightly to press your back against his chest, material of the mask pressed up against your face, almost to where you can feel his lips against your skin. 

You reach your hand behind yourself, holding him as he sinks himself in. You feel every inch as it goes in, sinking so deep it inflames your walls, your eyes rolling back as you gasp, “Oh, shit,” as you unexpectedly squirt, the fluid gushing out so harshly that it nearly pushes his dick out. Your thighs tremble as you shudder out in broken whines, his hand gripping tighter along your throat, hearing the arrogant chuckle in your ear.

He lets out a low, rumbling chuckle against your ear, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine even as your inner walls clench around him. His grip on your throat tightens fractionally, a subtle reminder of his dominance.

"Look at you, squirting like a fuckin’ faucet.”

You shriek as he spanks you, “So fuckin’ responsive for me. Love milking this pussy, baby. Goood fuckin’ girl,” he riles you up, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside,  slamming back in, driving deep once more, making you squirt out again.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets, reaching behind helplessly as you try to halt his hips, feeling as he yanks your hand behind your back. You plead, “W—wait, baby. Wait. Wait. Ooh, shi—oh—fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck…”

Your whine is so pretty, your body relaxing as if you’ve given up at this point, back to pouting as you can’t. Stop. Squirting. 

Tears well in your eyes, you’re crying at this point, your hips tensing, a soreness beginning to produce from your body pushing out so much energy. You’re moaning weakly as he coos behind you, “Yeah, baby. That’s good. Open up your pussy," his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I've got you."

With a sudden, brutal thrust, he buries himself inside you, grinding against your cervix. Your scream is muffled by his palm over your mouth as he holds you still, impaling you on his dick.

“Told you to fuck me back, your ass don’t fuckin’ listen,” he grunts, his hips beginning to piston in and out at a bullying pace. "Fuck, your pussy is perfect."

This is what you asked for. This is what you wanted—now you were paying for it. You’re sobbing in patterns, broken and repetitive, trapped as you can only whimper, “Please cum, baby. Cum in me. Fuckin’ fill me up, baby,” but this is your only way of escaping this depraved act.

He laughs cruelly, the sound echoing through the room as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You want my cum? Then fucking earn it, slutty ass fuckin’ girl. My slutty ass baby.” 

His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply as he fucks you even harder, each thrust jarring your entire body. The pressure builds in your core, your orgasm just out of reach.

With the last bit of strength you have, you apologize, “So sorry, baby. Didn’t listen. Lemme’ be your good girl,” as you begin to throw your ass back, slamming it along his abdomen, it’s nearly too slippery to have the skin stick together. You’ve coated him with your arousal, you have nothing left to give him, “Cum for me, baby. Cum inside me, need your cum, pretty boy…”

At your pitiful plea, he releases your throat, gripping your hips instead as he pounds into you mercilessly. His breathing grows ragged, muscles straining as he chases his release, his helpless moans are sexy, even a light whimper slipping out— it was rare for him to have. 

"Fuckin’ hell..." he grits out between clenched teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "I’m about to bust, baby. Where you’ want it?”

“In me,” you whimper desperately, “Don’t be mean.”

The bastard. He chuckles, “Shut that shit up. I know.” 

With one final, intense thrust, his dick pulses as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep inside you. He pulls himself out to replace his dick with his fingers, rubbing chaotically in between your opening and your clit, knowing how you’d react to that. Your entire body spazzes as you shout, groaning into a scream as you gush out more cum, causing him to rip the mask off, burying his face in between your legs, lapping up the final orgasm that completely drains you. You’re crying and shaking, nearly dropping forward along the bed as he’s there to catch you. 

The familiar coconut scent of his dark hair rubs up against your cheek as he turns your face to kiss him, sloppily sinking his tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.

“That was good, baby,” Suguru grunts, both of you breathing heavily against one another, desire and passion filling the air. 

“We need to watch scary shit more often,” he holds your throat, talking within your ear, the breathless giggle only being your response for a moment. 

“Yeah, we do.”