#do what you want I will not be convinced otherwise
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Entitled To You (3.6K words)
Norstaptri x Reader
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.
Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.
Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T
Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!
Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi
“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay.
“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!
“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”
“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.”
She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s.
To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.”
The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining.
She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert.
The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her.
They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner.
If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy.
“Not so confident now, huh?”
The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?”
“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”
“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy.
His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening.
“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.”
“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.
“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her.
It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be.
And then nothing.
A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for.
His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy?
“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before.
She blacks out.
~~~♡~~~
Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes.
When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound.
Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her.
Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry.
She can't move.
It's dark again.
~~~♡~~~
The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot.
The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute.
“Max, she always responds.”
“I know Lando.”
“She always calls if she's going to be longer.”
“Lando?”
“Yes?”
“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?”
The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet.
Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered.
They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now.
Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes.
“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features.
“What the fuck?”
Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.”
Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help.
“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears.
It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that.
“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable.
The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely.
Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help.
It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian.
He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?
“When will they let us see her?”
“When she wakes up, most likely.”
He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name.
“-She’s asking for us.”
He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall.
Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?”
She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando.
Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing.
She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”
“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one. Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her.
“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?”
“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead.
“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?”
“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.
“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.”
“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck”
Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep.
~~~♡~~~
Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained.
On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated.
The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution.
Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort.
Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off.
“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.”
The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”
“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.”
“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment.
It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?”
“And what if I am?”
She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible.
They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.
Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’.
Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.”
“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.”
“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes.
Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”
“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”
“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.”
He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble.
“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?”
“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him.
Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.”
~~~♡~~~
It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.
He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something.
Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now.
Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times.
Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here.
“Get out!”
“We were just talking-”
“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room.
He’s not prone to violence.
Really, he’s not.
Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good.
The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming.
Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.
“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.”
“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”
Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.”
“Equilibrium.”
“Yeah that!”
He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline.
They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits.
The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point?
“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.”
“Christian said-”
“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”
lando Can’t help but share her feelings.
~~~♡~~~
She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet.
At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart.
The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance.
They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.
She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her.
She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see.
Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say.
She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.
The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage.
Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.
The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been.
She wins the next race.
“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”
“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.
“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence.
“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…”
“You’re a genius Oscar!”
She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they��ve been so patient.
“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her.
She smiles back.
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🔞 I've been in both a mood for oral and for cockwarming so I thought to combine the two. Cheers
[NSFW, minors DNI. GN reader, oral (Buggy receiving), uncut sausage, a lil facefucking and throatpie]
Buggy begging you in the early morning, ready to be on his hands and knees if he weren't currently in bed, clinging to you and asking you oh so sweetly to cockwarm his dick with your mouth
He's kissing up to you, whispering sweet but filthy compliments against your skin as he lets his hands explore you, trying to convince you to do this for him. Hungry squeezes to your hips and ass under the sheets, nibbling against your sensitive spots and telling you how no one else spoils him like you, how he craves your touch every second of every day, how you're the only one that can make him feel this way.
He feels ready to pop apart in excitement when you finally give in, but reins himself in just enough to shove his boxers down, getting into a cozy position as you lay your head across his belly. You're honestly surprised to see he isn't hard yet, but figure it's only a matter of time, knowing him. You waste no time wrapping your lips around his soft length.
A teasing swipe of your tongue earns you a small whimper and a twitch, though he otherwise behaves, simply basking in your soft, wet heat. But when he predictably gets hard not long after and his hips automatically thrust up seeking more stimulation, can you blame him? When the feel of your hot mouth around him is so addictive?
He loves the stretch of your lips around his girth, the velvet feeling of your tongue against his head. And when a little drool escapes down his shaft or your chin, he can feel his balls tighten up. Fucking your mouth was always a treat for him, but he did like taking a moment to just admire the sight and feel of his cock filling your cheek.
It starts out slowly, just little movements, so you think he's simply adjusting and getting more comfortable. But as he gets more and more aroused, his dick becoming rock hard in no time, you can tell he wants a little more stimulation, making small, rhythmic thrusts towards the back of your throat. You'd tease him for how needy he is, how he insisted that it'd only be cockwarming this time. But honestly, it was just as pleasurable sucking him off, watching him fall apart on your tongue.
You carefully pull back his foreskin before swiping your tongue around the skin and across the exposed head, earning a healthy dose of precum to ooze out. Spending a moment just teasing him, before you feel a hand on the back of your head, gently but urgently pressing you down. Taking the hint, you take a breath and gladly swallow him down, moving slowly until your lips near his base. Holding the position and letting your throat relax around him, you slide your hand down to squeeze his balls, earning a grunt from above.
After a moment, you move to take him out, but the hand that had urged you earlier does so once more, and you know what he truly wants. You take another breath through your nose before relaxing your body, giving Buggy the power now. Once he feels you relax, his hips thrust up, leisurely facefucking you. One particularly deep thrust makes you gag, and Buggy can’t help but release a moan as your throat constricts on his length. You squeeze his balls again lightly, massaging them as he moves, and between that and the feel of your mouth, it isn’t long before he is ready to bust. Of course, Buggy forgot to mention that to you before suddenly shoving his cock down your throat and holding you there.
His cock throbs hard before you feel the hot stream of cum rush down your throat, catching you off guard. You barely manage to swallow some of it before having to pull off of him, coughing as his seed drips down your chin. Glaring at him just earns a sheepish, wobbly smile in response, too blissed out from his orgasm to even defend himself. But in the end, it doesn’t matter, because you know you’d gladly do this for him again.
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Fanatic Intervention Part 8!!
I see your votes everyone, and I hear your voices. But before I can, in good conscience, place us in Heathrow, I need to share this with you.
Beginning|| Previous || Next
******************
In the end, convincing Aziraphale (who, surprise surprise, had never flown on a plane) that First Class was the way to go wasn’t all that hard.
“Otherwise you fly all cramped with hundreds of other people!” You say. Crowley nods.
“Mmmmm yes,” the demon agrees, “Imagine being elbow-to-elbow with all those humans. Feet in your face, children kicking the back of your seat, sharing an armrest!”
“I rather like humans though,” says Azirphale, even though he looks a little pale at the mention of armrests, “And I would be next to you anyway.”
“What about the humans who haven’t showered for days?” You ask, “How long has it been since the last time you were near one person, nevermind a hundred-ish, who didn’t follow basic hygiene practices? A few hundred years?”
Aziraphale’s face falls. Crowley chimes in.
“Oh yes, just imagine all the sweat and grease from the airport food.”
“And then there are the babies that travel. I mean, their ears pop when the plane takes off and when it lands, and they only really have one coping strategy.”
“Aaah,” Crowley says, “The crying babes! Think of all the crying babies and no escape! Not for hours and hours and hours.”
“And then,” You say, “There’s the in-flight meal.” Here, you seem to have struck a cord. Duh, you should have led with this. Aziraphale raises an eyebrow.
“Oh? They serve food?”
“Psh,” You say, “If you can call it that. They ask you if you want chicken or vegetarian, and then they plop a cardboard box with a film top in front of you.”
“It’s dreadful,” agrees Crowley, “All bland and clearly frozen and warmed up in a microwave.”
“And if you’re lucky, you can tell that it’s meant to be a sandwich,” You add.
“Supposing you can tell that it’s food at all!” Crowley says with a nod, “And their wine list is small potatoes.”
“Small bland potatoes,” You say, “If you can call them potatoes at all – served in the tiniest bottles and the tiniest glasses you ever did see.”
You noticed Aziraphale’s eye twitch ever so slightly.
“And in First Class they...they serve actual food and wine, do they?”
“Oh yeah,” You say, “with proper service and cloth napkins and everything. Most of the airline websites say that the food’s prepared by an actual chef.”
“And the glasses are normal sizes, and made of actual glass,” adds Crowley for good measure. Aziraphale hums.
“Yes, fine. Clearly First Class is the only acceptable way to travel.” He leaves the room. You hear the kettle turn on. He probably needs some tea to calm his nerves after hearing all that. You turn to Crowley.
“So you’ve gone on a plane before, huh? Did you invent the food? I would not be surprised if you did.”
“Me?” Crowley says, “Naaaah. Never flown on a plane. Never needed to. But I know a bit of fun when I see it.”
You look up at him and sigh, cradling your chin in your hands for effect.
“It really is no wonder why Aziraphale loves you so much.”
“Ngk,” Crowley says, his ears turning pink.
-----
And now, dear Reader, we arrive at Heathrow. Anathema and Newt had met you at the bookshop, and the four of you drove over together in the Bentley after bidding Newt and Muriel goodbye. You spend the entire wait in line at airport security feeling nervous. Airport security is always a test for your nerves to begin with, but this time you have no passport or paperwork of any kind to twiddle in your hands to take the edge off. Instead, you fidget relentlessly with the button in your pocket (Muriel, being an observant and kind soul, had given you a large-ish green button to put in your pocket “Because you seem nervous, and it looked like it helped you last time.” You swear if anyone harms your new best friend while you’re gone you will end them). The line goes quicker than you would like, and when it gets to be your turn, honestly you’re not sure what happens. It all goes smoothly. Did Aziraphale and Crowley miracle you a passport? Did they click a finger or wave a hand to convince the guard that everything was in order? You have no idea, because you’re too focused on your nerves and Trying Not To Look Suspicious While Worrying That This Makes You Look More Suspicious Than You Would If You Could Just Be Normal About This (if you know the feeling, you know why it gets to be capitalized like that).
Once the stress of airport security is done, you head to the bathroom for a break from the chaos so that you can figure out how to breathe again. Normally, you wouldn’t be That Person to occupy the Accessible Washroom, but since you are desperately trying not to have a panic attack because of all the pent-up anxiety from the whole airport security thing, you decide that you Really Cannot Do People Right Now, and that the single-occupant washroom may be your saving grace. You lock the door and sigh, leaning against the cold metal. It’s comparatively quiet here, and you’re grateful for it. Thank Someone. You resolve to try not to be too long in case someone who actually needs this washroom comes by (although I’m gonna be honest here, reader, right now you need this room for invisible accessibility/health reasons). After a minute or two, you are finally starting to feel your anxiety return to a manageable level. Everything is okay. You are traveling with the most ideal companions you could ever dream of, and the worst part is over. Everything from here on out is smooth sailing.
Except, dear reader, you all voted. And So It Shall Be.
You’ve just finished drying your hands.
“Aah,” says a voice behind you. You jump a solid 3 feet in the air. “I thought I might find you here.”
“HOLY! FUCKING! ZOMBIE! JESUS!!!” You sputter.
“Mind your manners, human.”
“Manners?? ME?? This is a WASHROOM.”
The Metatron looks at you blankly and shrugs. Ah yes, the biggest jerk in Heaven doesn’t know or care about washrooms or privacy. Or actually being polite.
“I merely wanted to have a word with you. Away from the others, of course.”
“Yeeeaaaaah,” You say. You’ve seen a million movies (approximate), and read a million books (also approximate), you know what this is. This is the maybe we can still solve this problem quietly plot. And you know that actually having the conversation is a bad idea. “I don’t think so.”
You reach for thee door. It’s locked, and it won’t unlock. Of course. You (gently) pound your head against the door, before turning to face Metatron. You take a breath, and answer as calmly as you can given how angry you are.
“What. Do you want?”
“I merely hoped that we could agree upon...an arrangement.”
“Pretty sure I made it clear back at the bookshop that I’m not letting you anywhere near them.”
“Oh dear, no. This has nothing to do with the demon or with Aziraphale. This is about you.”
You mentally brace yourself. Here comes the manipulation. You inwardly remind yourself of the tropes of villain manipulation and all the things you’ve ever shouted at the tv screen after one of these interactions. You need to be prepared, because apparently you need to play this out. And so, you give him the response he clearly wants.
“What about me?”
“Well, my dear, I only thought that perhaps you might like to go home.”
“Ha! Nice try.”
“You have no desire to return to your family? Your friends? Your life?”
“Not right now, thanks.”
“And you think you’ll get a similar offer later?”
“I mean...well yeah. I don’t know whether I would actually want to go back yet but --”
“You think Aziraphale and his associates will want to keep you as their pet forever? My dear, they only entertain you right now because you’re useful to them.”
Okay, I mean you knew that already but still. Ouch. Hearing it out loud is just...Ouch. Unfortunately, you do not have the Acting Prowess of either Michael Sheen or David Tennant, and so the Metatron sees the Ouch. He smiles kindly.
“Here, you are merely a tool,” he continues, voice smooth as honey, “And back home there are people who love you and value your presence in their lives. Back home there are people who miss you purely because you are you. Here, you are well, a convenience. A help. But that’s all. And once this is all over, there is no promise, no guarantee that you would be able to return. And no reason for Aziraphale to keep you. You would need to start again, and since you needed the help of an angel to get through airport security, I’m guessing that would be very difficult for you. And then, of course, there’s your immortal soul to be concerned about once the Final Judgment comes to pass.”
You ignore the bait, even though it stings. Take a breath. You’ve got this.
“That’s all irrelevant right now,” You say.
“Is it? It seems that you’re….what’s that charming human expression? Flying by the seat of your pants?” He chuckles at his own joke. You smile awkwardly. Well, yes you are, but the heroes in stories do all the time. They figure it out as they go. You are doing no worse than any of them. You don’t find the joke so funny. And frankly his laughter is unsettling.
“Um...” You start uncertainly, “Well if that’s all, then can I go now?”
“In a moment,” the Metatron says smugly. Oh you hate that he has so much control right now. “First I would like to extend to you the offer of some help. I would like to see you home safely, at a time of your choosing. Whenever you feel that you are ready.”
“And you have the power to do that, do you?” You’re skeptical.
“I have the power of all Creation at my disposal.”
“Riiiiight. Just out of the goodness of your own angelic heart. That’s very kind of you Metatron.” You’re not sure if he hears the edge of sarcasm. He shrugs regardless.
“There is of course, one and only one thing I would like from you if you decide to take my help.”
“Oooooof course there is. I’m not letting you near Aziraphale and Crowley.”
“Once again, my dear, this has nothing to do with them. All I would like is to know why your first instinct was to take that coffee. The full truth, mind you. None of that sarcasm or loophole nonsense that you humans are so fond of. And do not be foolish enough to think I can’t tell the difference.” He looks at you pointedly.
That’s...a suspiciously innocuous request. But then again, it usually is with these sort of things, isn’t it? You feign non-chalance and tap your foot for emphasis.
“Are you done yet?” You ask obstinately. The door unlocks audibly behind you.
“Just think about it,” says the Metatron, “No rush.”
Oh yes there is one. You rush to open the door. Never before have you felt so relieved to be in a crowded place.
Don't worry about airplane route logistics or whether or not you can actually get a direct flight from Heathrow to Orlando. Just vote for whatever you would like :)
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤
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#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#good omens 2#good omens fandom#aziraphale x crowley#aziracrow lasts forever#good omens fanart#this counts as art right?#good omens fanfiction#fanfiction#good omens fanfic#good omens 2 fanfic#good omens fic#let's write#we're all in this together#poll fic#fanatic intervention#choose your own adventure#anathema#metatron#muriel is a sweetheart#ineffable fandom#it's ineffable#flying by the seat of my pants#almost typed “poolite” instead of “polite”#lol#writers on tumblr
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It was love all along
Satoru is in his favourite spot in the whole wide world. He’s stretched out on top of Suguru, who’s laying on the couch, their legs tangled, Suguru’s heartbeat in his ear and Suguru’s fingers in his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.
There might or might not be a movie playing, but it’s not as if Satoru is paying attention, as if he could pay attention with Suguru’s steady heartbeat drowning everything else out.
Satoru only notices that something changed at all when Suguru speaks up.
“If you’re going to be a hater, then do it quietly,” he says, his voice pleasantly rumbling through his chest and Satoru presses closer, trying to chase that sound even as he frowns.
Why am I being a hater? he wonders, wants to ask, but before he can convince his mouth to work, the couch jostles and then Shoko speaks up.
He didn’t even hear her come in.
“You’re such freaks,” she says and it’s more fond than anything.
Satoru turns his head, presses his other ear to Suguru’s chest as soon as he can again, and then he blinks up at Shoko, who has her arms crossed on the back of the couch, her head pillowed on them even as she stares at them.
“Takes one to know one,” Satoru mutters, barely able to find his own voice with how good it feels to have Suguru scratch at his scalp more insistently.
Seems he didn’t like it much when Satoru moved.
“What are you even doing?” Shoko asks, one eyebrow raised and Satoru smiles slightly when Suguru speaks again.
He does love hearing his voice like this, all rumbly, straight in his ear.
“Watching a movie,” Suguru replies and Shoko snorts out a laugh.
“Yeah, right. Watching,” she mocks them. “What’s even happening in it?” she wants to know and Satoru certainly doesn’t have an answer for her, because he wasn’t even aware that a movie was running in the first place.
“Things,” Suguru says after a short pause and Satoru smiles slightly. Suguru clearly wasn’t paying that much attention either.
“You and your stupid need to be as wrapped up in each other as you can possibly be,” she mutters and pointedly looks at Suguru’s hand in Satoru’s hair. “It’s sickening.”
“You’re just jealous,” Satoru mutters, and Suguru hums, sending shivers down Satoru’s back.
“Maybe I am,” Shoko easily gives back, “but it’s still not normal what you two are doing,” she tacks on and then climbs over the back of the couch to lay down on top of Satoru.
It presses him even more into Suguru, makes the sound of his heart almost unbearably loud in his ears and Satoru thinks that if he would die right this second, he wouldn’t even mind.
“This okay?” Shoko asks, probably more for Suguru’s sake than Satoru’s, because it’s Suguru who has to bear both of their weights now, who is being pressed into the couch.
Satoru still hums in answer, more content than even before and Suguru also makes a happy sound in the back of his throat.
“’s good,” he mutters, not once ceasing the steady motion of his hands and Satoru can feel how Shoko rolls her eyes.
“Weirdos,” she mutters, but she doesn’t get up or move otherwise away.
Satoru smiles at that, because she can complain as much as she wants, but she’s in this as well and that makes her just as much of a weirdo as it does Suguru and him.
Satoru goes back to concentrating on the sound of Suguru’s heartbeat, on the feeling of his fingers against his skin and he floats for a bit, happy and content with where he is right now.
He’s so content in fact, that he doesn’t notice the niggling feeling at the back of his mind until much later.
~*~*~
They do, eventually, have to get up and go to bed, even though all three of them are perfectly comfortable where they are. But if Yaga finds them piled on the couch like this in the middle of the night when they have missions the next day, hell is going to break loose and no one dares to tempt that.
“Time for bed,” Shoko mutters as she pushes herself off Satoru, rolling off the couch and barely getting her feet under her before she hits the ground. “You should go to bed, too.” She pauses as she regards them. “Preferably to your own ones, but I’m not holding my breath for that,” she then quietly adds and it makes Satoru frown.
“Why go to my own bed, when I can go to Suguru’s?” he asks, turning his head around again to be able to make his frown work better.
Not that it ever works on her.
“Exactly my point,” she sighs out. “Well, I already knew you’re not normal—” she points at Satoru “—but he came as a surprise.” She moves her finger to Suguru and Satoru takes offense to that.
Suguru is perfectly normal.
“Don’t be mean to him,” he chides her, causing Suguru to chuckle under him and Satoru feels as if he’s melting when the sound travels through his entire body.
“She was insulting you, too, you know,” Suguru informs him, but really, Satoru couldn’t care less about that.
He draws the line at people insulting Suguru, though.
“Shoko, take it back what you said about Suguru,” he says, as if he didn’t even hear Suguru, who lets out a fond sigh.
“I will, if you sleep in your own bed tonight. Alone,” she stresses and before Satoru can even open his mouth, Suguru speaks up.
“Not happening,” he decisively says and that’s that, it seems, because Shoko heaves out a huge sigh and then waves at them.
“Thought so. Anything else would have been a surprise with how up in each other’s business you two are,” she says as she walks away from them and it leaves Satoru with a frown.
That niggling feeling is back, more insistent now and he doesn’t like it; doesn’t like it one bit, because it makes it hard to enjoy the head scratches he’s still getting from Suguru.
“We should go to bed, too, though, she’s right about that,” Suguru eventually mumbles and Satoru presses himself closer to Suguru.
“Don’t wanna,” he whines out and smiles when Suguru chuckles again.
“We just have to relocate to bed,” Suguru tries to cajole him, “and then we can go right back to this.”
As if to drive his point home, he scratches at a particularly sensitive spot low on Satoru’s neck and really, that’s not helping at all.
“You’re gonna make my bones melt like that,” Satoru complaints and curses himself when Suguru immediately stops.
“Can’t have that until we’re in bed,” he says and then—because Suguru is cruel and mean and has no regard for Satoru’s safety—he pushes him off himself and the couch.
“Ouch, Suguru,” Satoru whines out, rubbing the aching spot on his butt that met the ground first but he can’t really be mad, because Suguru is smiling down at him as he reaches out and pushes a few strands of hair out of Satoru’s face.
“Sorry,” he easily says and Satoru knows that he’s not sorry at all.
“Whatever,” Satoru grumbles as he picks himself off the ground and just because he can he flicks Suguru’s forehead. “Let’s go then.”
Now that he’s up and away from Suguru he realises just how cold the room as gotten and goose bumps break out all over his arms.
“You’re the one stalling us,” Suguru easily gives back, getting off the couch and simply walking out on Satoru, who is quick to follow him as if there’s a leash tethering him to Suguru.
It isn’t until they are in Suguru’s room—Satoru having followed him there without a second thought—that he hesitates.
Suguru doesn’t notice immediately, because he changes into his sleeping clothes and slides right into bed, but when he finally realises that Satoru is not doing the same, he frowns.
“What are you doing all the way over there?” he wants to know, and Satoru doesn’t know what to say.
“I think—maybe I should—” he starts and points over his shoulder at the door. He doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do, but Shoko’s words shook something loose in him and now there’s this pit of worry in his gut that he can’t seem to shake. “You know, my own bed,” he finishes lamely and it doesn’t help when Suguru simply continues to stare at him.
“What’s going on?” he finally asks and Satoru shuffles on his feet.
“Nothing, nothing, it’s just—” Satoru trails off with a shrug.
“Do you want to go to your own bed?” Suguru wants to know and just thinking about it—laying in his own bed, cold and alone with Suguru too far away from him—makes Satoru’s eyes burn as if he’s going to burst into tears.
He doesn’t trust his voice anymore so he shakes his head and Suguru’s face softens.
“Satoru. Satoru, come here,” he gently says and lifts the blanket to invite Satoru in, and really, how is Satoru supposed to say no to that offer?
He’s across the room with two big strides of his legs and back in Suguru’s arms a heartbeat later.
Strangely enough it feels like coming home and Satoru tries not to think too much about it.
“There, that’s better,” Suguru softly says, sounding just as content as Satoru feels and he arranges them to his liking, until they are in the same position as they were the entire evening. “Now, is this about what Shoko said?” Suguru asks while scratching Satoru’s scalp again and Satoru hides his face in Suguru’s chest.
“It’s just—she’s right, isn’t she?” Satoru dares to ask when Suguru doesn’t offer anything else and Suguru sighs.
“Is she?” he wants to know in turn and it’s not an answer, it’s not even helping anything, so Satoru picks his face out of Suguru’s chest to glare at him. “There you are,” Suguru mutters and moves his hand so he can cup Satoru’s cheek in it. “She’s only right if it bothers either one of us,” he then says and Satoru pouts at him.
“But doesn’t it? Bother you? I mean, she’s right about me, I’m all kinds of fucked up and I’m just—doesn’t it bother you that she thinks the same about you?”
“She’s right, though,” Suguru easily says as if it doesn’t mean anything to him. “You being as touch starved as you are isn’t really a surprise with your upbringing and your technique but you both forget that I’m from a normal family.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Satoru wants to know and he doesn’t even have it in him to deny the touch starved part.
It’s true after all.
“Being able to see curses and not knowing when to shut up about it doesn’t make for a lot of friends,” Suguru tells him. “It doesn’t even make for a lot of affection from your parents, not when they are low-key weirded out by you, too. I didn’t have any friends as a child and even later, when I learned to keep my mouth shut about what I could see it never felt as if I could truly open up to someone. I could never be myself with anyone else; not until I came here.”
“Not until you met us,” Satoru says in understanding and frowns in confusion when Suguru shakes his head.
“Not until I met you,” he corrects him. “Shoko’s great and all, but I don’t click with her like I do with you,” he admits and Satoru feels himself go hot all over at hearing that. “I don’t mind being touchy with her, or having her with us like today, but it’s not the same. I wouldn’t want to do this with just her. That’s all you.”
“It feels right, doesn’t it?” Satoru dares to ask, his heart beating nervously in his chest and it only settles when Suguru smiles at him.
“It does. That’s why I don’t mind. She can call us weirdos and freaks and co-dependant all she wants; as long as it doesn’t bother either of us, I really don’t mind. As long as I’m being lumped in with you, it’s all good.”
Satoru doesn’t know what’s happening to him anymore, but he feels so warm all over, his heart is beating heavily in his chest and he feels as if he just has to do something about all of this so he leans forward and presses his lips against Suguru’s.
It’s only when he moves back that he realises what he did and panic grabs at his heart, turning everything that was soft and warm just a moment ago cold and hard. He knows he has to say something, anything, but his voice is failing him and his panic must be pretty visible on his face because Suguru smiles reassuringly at him.
“Satoru, as long as it’s you, it’s all good,” he says, reiterates that point again and then uses the hand that is still on Satoru’s face to bring him closer once more. “So don’t worry.”
The last part is whispered right against Satoru’s lips, before he kisses him and Satoru simply melts.
“Still feels right?” Suguru asks when they part as if Satoru wasn’t the one who did it first and he’s just so overwhelmed he has to hide his face in Suguru’s neck.
“Still feels right,” he then agrees, because he knows he has to say something and Suguru goes back to scratching at his scalp as if nothing even happened.
“Good,” Suguru whispers, pressing his lips to Satoru’s head and he sounds so content, so happy that it wipes all of Satoru’s worries away.
“Maybe Shoko will find us more normal now,” Satoru mutters. “Maybe it’ll make more sense to her when we tell her we’re together.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have to make sense to her at all,” Suguru replies. “Maybe it’s just important that it makes sense to us.”
Satoru knows that he should just take this, should be happy with this, because it does make sense to him to do this with Suguru too but yet again he can’t help the little worry that pokes at his brain. Satoru thinks he couldn’t stand it if Suguru wants to do this without labelling them and it doesn’t make sense because there’s no label for them anyway, and yet—
“I really didn’t know you to be such an overthinker,” Suguru fondly says, turning them around so they can lay on their sides, their foreheads pressed together. “Usually it’s me, overthinking things and worrying about nothing.”
It seems he can read Satoru better than he even thought he could and while it makes him flush it also makes him feel seen in the best kind of ways.
“Maybe you just bring out all of my worst sides,” he shoots back but he can’t deny that he needs Suguru to acknowledge what they are.
“Mh, wouldn’t want that now,” Suguru mutters and brushes their noses together. “Satoru, it’s us. Always. As friends, as partners, as boyfriends. No matter what, it’s always us. And I love you in all instances.”
“Oh,” Satoru breathes out because this is a little bit more than he dared to hope for but it finally melts all his worries and useless, stupid overthinking thoughts away. “Yeah, same.”
“Gods, you’re so lame,” Suguru laughs out and Satoru should be offended—would be with anyone else, really—but Suguru is laughing and he looks so happy that Satoru kind of forgets about that.
“Well, you love me, so that makes you lame, too,” he confidently says and Suguru gives him that one smile Satoru loves so much, the one that softens his entire face, the one that makes his eyes turn into crescent moons.
“As long as we’re lame together,” he gives back and Satoru moves in for another kiss before he chokes on all his happiness.
“Of course we are,” he then says and snuggles close to Suguru, slotting his body against his and brushing his lips over his throat. “I love you, too. No matter what.”
“See, there you go,” Suguru proudly says and buries a hand in Satoru’s hair again. “Shoko will probably be even more disgusted with us now than before.”
It makes Satoru laugh and he has to agree. If she found them annoying and strange before, it will now only make things worse.
“Well, she’ll have to deal.”
“She sure will,” Suguru agrees and then falls asleep between one breath and the next, his hand still in Satoru’s hair, his lips pressed against Satoru’s forehead and if Satoru didn’t know it would wake him back up again he would flail and squirm around with his happiness.
Since that is out of the question, he settles for pressing that little bit closer to Suguru and falling asleep to Suguru’s steady heartbeat, letting him know that it was love all along.
#bt writes#jjk#satosugu#geto suguru#gojo satoru#shoko ieiri#getting together#cuddling and snuggling#codependency#love confessions#first kiss
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w3lc0me t0 th3 fr3aksh0w <3 | 2
↠ summary: Your ex-boyfriend not satisfied with how the relationship ended comes back to teach you a lesson its best to keep your mouth shut. Some secrets are best left unspoken.
↠ word count: 5,926
↠ pairing: todoroki touya x reader, takami keigo x reader, geten x reader
↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, college/dark web au, DARK CONTENT, yandere! dabi, bullying, stalking, blood, mention of drugging, noncon touching, breaking and entering
series masterlist
“Do we really have to be here?” You grumbled to your blonde companion.
In front of you, a house party bellowed through the streets with trashy music. The booming bass almost blew out your eardrums and you weren’t even inside, yet. Standing on the sideway right before the entrance, you were reluctant to walk further into the home.
A few stragglers sat on the lawn, sipping out of disposable cups, obviously filled to the brim with cheap alcohol. What everyone really wanted was inside. Which only filled you with dread. A party filled with coked out college students only meant one thing: Dabi and Keigo were inside. Though Toga promised you, this party wasn’t like that.
Speaking of the girl, she threaded her arm through yours and tugged you closer to her chest. “Yes, we do! I’m so sick of you rotting away in your dorm. Ayame is complaining about you.”
“Of course, she is,” You rolled your eyes at Toga’s lame attempt to convince you.
Sensing you were about to run away, she squeezed you tighter—she sure was strong for such a small girl, “It’s too late to change your mind, now. Let’s go, it will be fun!”
She’s right, you would have to just grit your teeth and try to enjoy yourself as much as possible. You could only hope neither of those men were there, but you knew not to hold your breath. A party meant profit as if Dabi and Keigo didn’t already have the money.
With you in tow, Toga speed-walked into the front door. You grimaced when you heard one of the men wolf-whistle at you two as you passed them on the lawn. Before you could make a biting remark, Toga shoved into the door. You coughed and waved your hand in front of your face. Smoke permeated around the house, a strong mix of weed and tobacco.
The room’s illuminated with low-lights and a few multi-colored disco balls. You hated frat boys with a burning passion. Crossing through a hallway, you were already met with couples making out against the wall. The further you went, you into a kitchen where people were trying to make drinks or pigging out on snacks. Before you could reach for something to drink—you were going to need it if you were going to stay long—Toga pulled you into the living room.
There sat on the couches was the old friend group, or at least to you. Toga still hung out with them, but you were very much outcasted after the break-up. If they only knew what really happened.
From what you could see Mirko and Shigaraki sitting next to each other, no one else from the group. That made you sag at least a little bit. You could deal with Mirko if Shigaraki and Toga were with you. While Toga wholeheartedly defended you, Shigaraki neutral, the rest of the group—Mirko, Keigo and Bubaigawara—didn’t particularly like you anymore.
“Hey, guys!” Toga greet with a wide smile, her sharp canines on display.
“Yo,” Mirko replied back with a lazy grin. It slightly dropped when seeing you but she didn’t say anything.
Shigaraki merely nodded his head, but otherwise kept to himself, sipping from his own cup.
Skipping over, Toga brought you with her and almost sat on the spot next to Shigaraki, but he tugged you down onto the empty spot next to him. Pouting, Toga sat on the arm of the couch instead.
“Meany,” She grumbled to the older man.
“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”
At that she fake retched multiple times while you giggled. Shigaraki pinched you in retaliation.
You slapped his hand away, “Ouch! I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re being annoying like her. I made you sit here so I didn’t have to deal with her-”
“Hey!”
He glared at her and continued, “But I forgot you guys were two peas in a pod.”
Toga slung an arm around your shoulder and leaned down so her cheek pressed against yours, “And don’t you forget it!”
“So we are all buddy-buddy with the snitch now?” Mirko asked with a raised brow, peering over from Shigaraki’s form.
Toga’s happy expression quickly fell to a deepset scowl, “If you want to join the Y/n hate club, go hang out with Dabi and Hawks.”
“I was trying to, but you guys had to come over here. Why don’t you take the hint?”
Mirko usually wasn’t such a bitch. If anything she would do anything to stand up for a fellow girl, but you got between her and her precious molly by ratting out Dabi. So anything she said, you took with a grain of salt. She’s definitely at the bottom of your list of people to worry about.
Though, none of that mattered when her words confirmed your worst fear. You were too naive to believe none of them would be here. Panicking, you looked through the crowd of people for a spec of either man. Lately, where one was the other soon followed.
“Don’t be a bitch,” Shigaraki snarked, “Thanks to Daddy’s money Dabi isn’t in jail anymore so you can be coked up as much as you want again.”
“Excuse you, I take molly not coke.”
“Oh yeah like that makes you so much more morally superior,” He sniped.
Huffing, Mirko crossed her arms, “As if you aren’t high off your ass right now.”
“I gotta be to deal with your ass.”
“I need a fucking drink,” You said, having enough of their bickering.
It’s good to know they both never changed. Mirko really only hung out with the group because of Keigo so she frequently got on Shigaraki’s nerves. Though, his constant snark didn’t really help him in the making friends department.
The group really started with Dabi and Keigo’s friendship. Those two had been thick as thieves since middle school. Mutual benefit really does form a strong bond.
Then came Shigaraki, Toga and Jin. Shigaraki met Dabi towards the end of high school, and since he was acquainted with Toga, she followed along. And where Toga went, Jin soon followed. The two of them bonded over being abandoned by the system so when Jin turned eighteen, he took in eleven year old Toga.
Mirko didn’t come in until she met Keigo during her second year of college. You were the last to join. About two years later you joined when you met everyone through Dabi. At first you were known as his girl, but when Toga found out you two were the same age, she welcomed you in. In no time you found a small family with all its dysfunctions. Only for it to quickly burn to ashes a year later.
Shaking the thoughts from your head, you got off your seat much to Toga’s protests.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Her voice tittered on concern.
You waved her off, “I’ve got it. I’ll get you a drink too.”
“Get me one, too!” Mirko yelled to you but you flipped her off over your shoulder.
You didn’t care to listen to how she laughed as you walked further into the crowd. As the night grew darker, the party picked up. Around the nicely furnished kitchen, people surrounded the counter stack with bottles of alcohol and juice. Skipping over the fruity drinks, you looked for any cans of beer or preferably something that didn’t taste like piss. A can was easier to cover with your hand than a cup. Less likely to get roofied. You didn’t trust frat boys as far as you could throw them.
Standing on your tip-toes to see over the heads hoarding the counter, your heart dropped. Leaning on the wall across from you stood Dabi. He seemed deep in conversation with a pretty girl, a sleazy smile twisted on his face.
You could only hope he finally moved on, but no, you spotted the tiny baggy filled with white powder dangling between his fingers. Taking the time to admire him, he didn’t look any different from the past couple weeks you had avoided him. His hair still a deep black, tattoos covering most of his skin. The snake bites caught in the low light, winking at you.
Falling back on your heels, Dabi noticed you amongst the crowd. The smile on his face slipped into something darker, like a wolf catching a rabbit, teeth all bared.
“Fuck,” You seethed to yourself.
Stumbling backwards, you watched Dabi tell the girl something. Her disappointed expression spoke volumes. Whipping around, you stumbled through the thickened gaggle of party-goers. Instantly, you looked to the couch to get help from Toga and Shigaraki, but instead of them, a new couple were cuddling close.
Redirecting yourself, you raced through a hallway and raced through the stairwell. More people crowded the stairs, but you pushed past them. Angry shouts followed you, but you didn’t care. There’s a banister, you raced over, catching the eye of Keigo still on the first floor.
You went down a more secluded hallway and ripped open the door closest to you. The door revealed an empty bathroom. Slamming it closed, you shoved your body against the door. Gripping the knob, you sagged against the slab of wood.
A shriek pierced through the still air. Your eyes snapped to make eye contact with yourself through the mirror. Another bang had you yelp again.
“That’s where you been, doll. Hiding from me, hmm?” Dabi’s muffled voice came from the other side.
Scrambling to the knob, your hand frantically felt for a button. You were out of luck. There’s no lock.
When you don’t respond to him, he banged against the door harder. The knob twisted in your own grasp, and you reached both hands over to stop him from opening the door.
“Don’t fucking make me break in there, you’re already in deep shit, princess. Let's do this the nice way.” He breathed into the door. Dabi didn’t shout as he uttered those words, but you heard him well enough.
“Fuck you!”
You screamed again when he hit the door right where your head was. He tried more frantically to twist the knob open.
“Fine! Be a bitch.”
The jiggling of metal filled the small room. Another yelp left you when he opened the door a crack. Slamming your shoulder against the wood, you didn’t let him open another inch. Slipping down, you fell on your ass. Planting your feet against the sink cabinets in front of you, you slouched down to be a human door wedge.
You stifled a shriek as the door shook from him throwing his shoulder against it. He repeatedly threw his body weight against the wood. The hinges creaked with the force.
“Stop being a brat, and open the door for daddy, baby. I swear we can put this behind us,” He cooed through labored breaths.
“You’re insane!” You screeched back, turning your head so he heard you better.
He upped his banging at your insult. Your body thumped with each pound and kick.
You knew you could only hold him off for so long, so your eyes bounced around the room for anything to defend yourself with. Your legs already vibrated from strain.
“What’s going on here?” Another voice joined you two.
Dabi finally took a break to address Keigo. Through the door, you listened closely, thoroughly screwed.
“She locked me out.”
“You do know the door doesn’t lock, right?” You can taste the snark dripping off his tongue.
“No shit,” Dabi seethed, “She jammed the door closed.”
Keigo gave an impressed whistle, “The little snitch really doesn’t want to be near you, huh? Must be the ugly mug.”
“Are you done?”
His boyish laugh sent a shudder through your body, “Don’t be so pissy. I’ll help you.”
On top of the counter sat a hair dryer forgotten and not plugged in. You didn’t stop staring at it as both Keigo and Dabi slammed against the door. From the force, you were pushed forward, the door opening a crack. You tried to push back, but an arm got in the way.
Knowing you were done for, you scrambled onto your feet, and pushed your back against the counter edge. You hid the dryer behind you, slipping it down so he couldn’t see it through the mirror, hand ready to grab the handle.
The door swung open so hard, it smacked against the wall before swinging back around. Keigo caught it with his hand, the slap causing you to jump. Dabi stood off to the side, letting Keigo take the reins to bring you back to him.
“Where have you been hiding, we missed you, Y/n,” Keigo smiled wide. That same douchey grin he used to get his way.
He sauntered further into the room, ready to corner you, leaving you nowhere to run. As he went to grab your arm, you pulled the dryer from behind you and aimed.
Crack!
“Fuck!” Keigo growled as he grabbed his nose. Blood flowed out like a waterfall. Red staining his lower face, hands and the floor it dripped onto.
Wasting no time, you dropped the dryer and raced out the room. Not letting Dabi be able to catch a stray arm, you booked it back into the party. Your hands shook as you refused to turn behind you, being weaker than Orpheus.
Dabi watched on as you flew by him and away from his view. Keigo came out of the room, still clutching his bruising and bleeding nose. The dirty blond went to follow you, but Dabi grabbed him by his arm.
“What the fuck, man?” Keigo questioned him, blinking through his teary eyes. Getting hit in the face hurt like a motherfucker.
A smirk danced on Dabi’s face as if he’s amused, but his crazed, blown out pupils told Keigo otherwise.
“She knows how to dig her hole deeper. Don’t worry, birdbrain, we’ll get her back for that in due time.”
Humming to yourself with your hands in your pockets, you tried to give off an air of aloofness. Tucked in your palm, a knife ready to be used. You knew these streets well, frequenting the shadier parts of town for over a year now. The streets themself were safe, but since the party you refused to walk around unarmed.
Dabi lurked in every corner, shrouded in shadow, waiting to get the jump on you. Or at least that’s what your paranoid brain told you. Plus Keigo being in on Dabi’s warpath to get his vengeance didn’t comfort you at all.
Warm hued lights danced across your face as the sun slipped down the purpling sky. The blaring street signs illuminated the darkening alleyways. People were sporadically spaced among the different shops, cigarettes clinging to their lips. Mainly older men with tattoos crowded the stores. Despite the implications of who they were, you didn’t feel scared.
Gangsters were the least of your worries.
Turning left, you entered a dead end alley with a shop tucked into the corner. Soft light poured in from the window onto the shiny pavement. No sign indicated who or what occupied this tiny corner.
Opening the creaky sliding door, a bell rang into the cramped space. The desk to the left of the door sat empty of the man running the place. At the sound of the door shutting closed, you heard some clattering somewhere in one of the back rooms. You raised your eyebrow when a different voice than you were expecting called out for you to wait.
Instead of a man with a head of fully grey hair, circle sunglasses and a sleazy smile, out came one of the last people you wanted to see.
“Where’s Giran?”
“Why the fuck are you here?”
Both of you said at the same time.
Neither of you laughed as you stared at each other. You didn’t hold a lot of resentment for the man, but most of it had to do with how close he’s to Toga. It stung what side he picked after everything.
“Where’s Giran, Bubaigawara?” You repeated yourself.
The older man crossed his arms, obviously uncomfortable. “He’s somewhere around here. He’s doing a deal!” The truth slipped out while his conflicting voices argued with each other.
Mimicking his stance, you hugged your arms to you. “Well do you know when he’ll be back? I was supposed to get tatted by him.”
“I can do it. Well, that’s too bad, bitch!”
Ignoring the second part, you asked, “Are you sure?”
“Fuck off! Yeah, let's go.” He beckons you over his shoulder.
Following the man into one of the rooms through the door. He closed it silently and starting look around for cleaning supplies. You watched him wipe down the chair.
“Where have you been? Who cares!” Bubaigawara asked.
Absent-mindedly, you answered him, “Just at school. Still stuck in the dorms, trying to save up to get an apartment. Same old bullshit.”
Standing in the middle of the room, you glanced around. You hadn’t been here in months and nothing changed.
The room was tiled with a dark, cheap material and the wallpaper peeling from the corners. Hung on the wall were different frames of Buddha, Jesus and various sizes of crosses. Giran surely wasn’t a religious man, but he liked the irony.
Under the frames sat the desk that looked more like a tool box than anything else. The dark metal drawers lined with various tattoo guns, ink and needles.
Not too long ago Dabi had been the one to show you the shop. Three months into the relationship you had let him tattoo you. It wasn’t that good as he wasn’t a tattoo artist, but you still loved the tiny skull he imprinted into your inner wrist. Or you once did. Anytime you look at it now, a concoction of emotions swirl in your stomach. You debated getting it covered up, but you let it serve as a reminder. Though you knew the real reason, you're scared of what he would do if you got rid of it.
Bubaigawara cleared his throat to pull you from your thoughts. He had everything set up and you climbed onto the reclining, black chair. Sitting in his stool, it creaked under his weight.
“So what did you want?”
You pulled your phone from your pocket and flipped it open. A new message from an unknown number greeted you.
you done ignoring me? answer me or else you won’t like what i’ll do
from: unknown
sent 6:56 PM
Rapidly deleting the message, you pull up the image you saved. Bubaigawara leaned in closer and squinted at the piece you wanted.
“Where do you want it?”
You bring your right leg up and tug your thigh high down to show the space above your knee.
He nodded in understanding and got to work. Slumping into the cushions, you closed your eyes and sank into the buzzing of the gun. You barely flinched when the needle pierced the fragile skin.
Your phone vibrating pulled you from your stupor. Flipping it back open, the number texted you again.
i can’t wait to break you y/n
from: unknown
sent 7:11 PM
Furrowing your brow, you stared at the text harder. Dabi rarely called you by your first name unless he’s being serious. Staring intensely at the numbers, you scoffed at the realization. You thought you blocked him ages ago.
dabi wouldn’t be happy knowing ur texting me keigo
from: snitch
sent 7:12 PM
not as unhappy he will be when you answered me instead of him
from: unknown
sent 7:12 PM
get bent
from: snitch
sent 7:13 PM
talk big game when it’s over a screen. don’t worry you’ll learn soon can’t wait to see you sweetheart
from: unknown
sent 7:13 PM
Uneasy, you swiftly blocked his number as well and placed your phone down. Staring up at the ceiling, you followed the water damage lining the yellowing plaster.
“What’s that face for? I don’t care!”
Turning your head, you looked at the man in front of you. His thick arms bulged as he shaded his work. Face serene, while he tattooed was the only time Bubaigawara’s raging mind stayed silent.
“It’s nothing.” You waved him off. He wouldn’t get it.
“Tell me.” His tone serious. He rarely showed his age, always very childish in his mannerisms, but times like these, you remember he did take care of Toga at some point.
Gulping, you chose your words carefully. “Dabi’s back.”
He paused for a moment before continuing, “Yeah.”
“You know?”
“Where do you think he’s staying?”
This made you jolt up and rip your thigh away from him. “Is he here? I-I thought he went back home. Like his dad put him on house arrest.”
“You know for a fact he would rather go to jail again than ever go back there.” He grabbed your thigh and went back to finishing the piece.
“Jin, you didn’t answer me. Is he here?” Your lip wobbled.
At you calling him by his first name, he looked up at you. “No. Yes!”
“Okay,” You sagged into the chair once more and clutched your hands to your chest. Staring at the door, you watched in apprehension of your ex walking in at any moment.
Bubaigawara continued his work, dipping back into the ink every once in a while. His warm palm on your skin burned. You didn’t want him or anyone to touch you. You were stupid to come back here. Of course Dabi would stay in the shop, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Though, now you know to avoid this area.
The silence didn’t last long when he spoke up again. “So is Dabi texting you? He’s real upset, ya know?”
“Mind your business,” You snapped, fear overriding your system.
“You hurt my friend.”
You shook your head at his ignorance. “No, he hurt me. You don’t even know a quarter of what happened. Instead of you guys blaming me for Dabi’s actions, open your fucking eyes.”
“You put him in jail, why? Because you guys got into a spat?”
A laugh broke from your chest, “So that’s what he’s telling everyone what happened. Cool, good to know. Are we done?”
He took the gun from your skin and wiped off the excess ink and plasma. He properly wrapped it as your other leg bobbed up and down.
“Yeah, we’re done.”
“Thanks.” You roughly shoved your thigh high back over your thigh and stomped out of the room.
Slamming the sliding door open and shutting it closed just as aggressively, you flipped up your phone. Dialing Geten, he answered after one ring.
“Come get me, please?”
Bubaigawara watched you stomp out, confused. He didn’t get you or the situation at all. Dabi told him you were being overdramatic and lied to the cops to get him in trouble. Yet, you seemed terrified knowing Dabi could be in the shop. He dismissed it as you not wanting to confront the fact you lied and snitched on your boyfriend, and everyone else in the group.
He finished cleaning and breaking everything down and went back to the front. Moonlight streamed in from the windows. Glancing at the clock, it had been nearing midnight. The time had passed a lot faster than he thought.
After tattooing you, he’d been in his own head for too long. Unanswered questions swirling in his head. He would have to talk to Toga later. Afterall she had sided with you despite everyone else being pissed, saved for Shigaraki who didn’t care.
Reaching for the binder to calculate earnings and funds, the door had opened with a bang. In came Dabi with a sour look on his face. Ripping off his jacket, he half-hazardly threw it on a stray chair.
“I’m going to kill her,” Dabi muttered under his breath.
“Are you talking about Y/n? What crawled up your ass!”
Dabi glowered at him, suspicious, “What about it?”
“You’re so pissy! She seems to be why you have been in a bad mood since you came back,” Bubaigawara shrugged.
“No fucking shit she has been. The bitch has been avoiding me. I just want to talk, but she acts like I’m going to hurt her or something.”
The older man thought for a moment, “Well she was just here and told me she’s still at the dorms. Maybe you can talk to her there. Or stop bitching about her!”
A grin broke out on his visage, the burn scar on his cheek dimpling. He leaned over the counter and condescendingly patted Bubaigawara’s face. “You not being all there really works wonders. Thanks for the info.”
Dabi walked back out of the shop, waving over his shoulder.
Bubaigawara blinked, a foreboding feeling that he did in fact do something stupid clung to him.
Curled up on your bed, your finger traced over the healing tattoo through the saran wrap and your thigh high. The sun hung high in the sky, but the muted light barely penetrated the blanket thrown over your head. After Geten had picked you up from the parlor your anxiety had only skyrocketed.
You had stayed the night, but you decided to come back to the dorms afterwards. Lying through your teeth, you told Geten you didn’t want to be late for any more classes. You both knew you were fibbing. You didn’t show up to your classes today. Going straight to your room, you ignored Ayame’s snark and launched yourself on your bed. It’s been hours and you still haven't moved.
Sleep couldn’t even claim you. The paranoia that Dabi would find you shot your system. From outside your cotton cocoon, your phone buzzed multiple times. You couldn’t muster up the courage to read the messages. They were most likely Geten and Toga checking up on you, but deep down you knew Dabi wouldn’t be easily curved with being blocked.
Your phone started to ring with a bubbly tone. Groaning, your hand shot out from the blanket and felt around the sheets until you grabbed the tiny device. Dragging it under with you, you flinched from the screen piercing your eyes. You saw Geten was calling.
“Hi,” You meekly answered.
“How’s my girl doing?”
You shrugged while mumbling a quick, “I don’t know.”
Geten’s silent for a second before responding, “I’m going to come pick you up. I don’t like leaving you alone especially since you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just a lot right now and I don’t even know where to start.”
“Maybe from the beginning?” His tone dripped with sarcasm.
You rolled your eyes with a smile, “Thanks asshole, why didn’t I think of that.”
“Anytime. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”
The call ended with a click.
With an enormous sigh, you dropped your phone and curled further upon yourself. Working up the courage to pick yourself up from your tiny pity party, you hear the door knob turn.
Your face pinched in confusion. Ten minutes surely haven’t passed. The door opened and closed with an extra click. Whoever came in, locked the door.
A concoction of fear and perplexion overtook your system.
Peeling the blanket off, you called out, “Geten?”
A scream pierced through your chest at the sight of black instead of white hair. Dabi does nothing to stop your screech and stands by the door with crossed arms.
Crawling further up the bed, you clutched onto your blanket like a pathetic child.
“How did you get in here?” Your breathing hitched and your shoulders bounced with every inhale.
“Passed your roommate in the hallway,” He shrugged. “What a bitch, right? Didn’t even question who was asking.”
He unfortunately took the words right out of your mouth. But you couldn’t really blame her. How was she supposed to know your crazy ex’s actively stalking you.
“Get out, Dabi,” You tried to sound firm but even you could hear how your voice wobbled.
He started walking closer until his knee leaned on the side of the bed. Pulling the blanket to the side, he grabbed your calf and dragged you further down the bed. Screeching, you tried to kick him away, but he pressed further into the muscle.
Propping his body over yours with a hand by your head, he engulfed his form with yours. With your free hands, you pushed and hit his chest.
“Get off! Get off me!” You screamed and thrashed your head side to side.
With clenched eyes, the world around you blended into that damp alleyway. Smoke from both the gun and fire stuff their way into your airways until all you can taste is ash.
Dabi gripped your cheeks and shook your head with vigor. Blinking through the tears, you see his indignant expression above you. Toggling onto his baggy shirt, you both wanted to pull him close and as far away as you could.
“What the fuck is up with you?”
“G-get,” You gulped to suck in more air, “get away from me.”
He dug his fingers further into your mandible, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You owe me an explanation.”
“I think putting your ass in jail is enough of an explanation. What do you want from me?”
“I want to know why my girlfriend-”
“I’m not your girlfriend!”
The hand on your jaw trailed down to wrap around your neck instead. No pressure was put, but the threat very much apparent.
“I forgot about your new favorite pass time, that fucking albino loser.” Malice dripped from his tongue, “You lie to him too?”
Guilt strewn across your face at the jab. “Dabi, look, you know I’m so-”
“You don’t get to be sorry after the bullshit you have pulled.” The veins on his hand bulged as it absentmindedly tightened around your throat further.
“Geten is going to be here soon, so you better leave,” You grasped for anything to get him off you.
Dabi laughed with a deep husky tone, “You think that prick scares me? I would be more worried about yourself if he finds you in such a compromising position with your ex.”
Kicking up a fuss again, you tried to kick him but he placed his hand under your thigh and brought your knee to your chest. The skirt you were wearing hiked up to show your black and pink skull panties.
Crawling further upon you, he straddled your free leg so your whole body besides your hands were trapped under him. Nudging his knee closer to your exposed core, he dug into your slit but didn’t move. You fought the urge to squirm as you would only grind on his leg, falling right into the palm of his hand.
Completely frozen, Dabi took advantage of your petrified state and tucked a finger under your right thigh high and pulled it down. His warm fingers dragged down your slowly exposed skin until the sock sat at your ankle. Leg in tHE air, he nosed at your calf until he hit a particular spot. There, sat on the middle of your calf a scar the size of a quarter. Barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.
Chills ran down your spine when Dabi kissed the old wound. The skin long since healed over and discolored. The chunk of skin and muscle gone from your calf bound you together better than any chain or rope could.
“There’s no one in this world that will love you like I do. This,” He dug his thumb into the scar, “Right here is proof of my love.”
What a load of bullshit, you wanted to say but kept your mouth shut. What he did wasn’t love, it was misdirected anger and obsession. Anything he did was never for you, but himself.
A knock on the door had both you and Dabi snap your attention towards the person behind it. You held your breath, praying it wasn’t Geten.
“Y/n, I forgot my keys!” Ayame called out.
Your ex turned back towards you as you opened your mouth to scream. The hand on your neck, shoved two fingers down your throat. A wet, ugly gag echoed in the space between you two.
“Scream and I’ll beat your ass bloody,” He sneered, nose to nose.
Tears bubbling over, you nodded in agreement and clutched onto his wrists. Dabi kept his focus on your mouth, not caring Ayame kept pounding on the door. Dragging his fingers an inch back, he thrusted them back in but more gentle. This time you didn’t gag but your throat did tighten.
“Fuck, there’s my good girl,” He sighed into you.
With firm strokes, he fucked his fingers in and out of you. Drool dripped down from his fingers and your lips, caking your chin. Your eyes went hazy as you were swallowed by bright blues, him never breaking eye contact.
The buzzing of your phone broke you from your trance. Dabi pulled his fingers from your mouth and brought them to his own. Sticking his pierced tongue out, he licked and sucked your saliva off his fingers.
Whipping the excess wetness on his pants, he grabbed for your phone before you could protest.
“Looks like your boyfriend is here.”
He dangled your phone in front of your face to see the message. You reached out to swipe the phone but he pulled the phone back and far above you.
“Dabi, please!”
“He can wait.”
“No, he’ll get suspicious and come up here and-”
He flung your phone onto the floor and got back into your face, “Why do you care what that reject thinks, you’re mine.”
“No I’m not! When will you get that through your thick fucking skull.”
“And when will you get it through yours that you belong to me! You put me away to serve time and I still came back. You’re gonna have to kill me to get rid of me for good.”
His nostrils flared while he stared down at you with such contempt. Every word he said, he meant. Like a cockroach he would survive and crawl his way back to you.
“I need to go,” You tried to reason.
“Fine, have it your way.”
Forcing you back onto the bed, he dropped your leg to grip your shoulders. Pinning your hips down with his. With one hand, he pulled your shirt to the side. Licking the exposed skin of your neck, he nibbled and sucked at the skin.
“Stop, you’ll leave a mark,” You whined as you kicked your legs out.
The flesh tingled as his teeth scraped against it. His lips did not leave anything untouched.
Nosing up to your ear, he said, “That’s the point.”
With more fervor you bucked your hips to throw him over, but he stayed steady. Likened to a rabid animal, Dabi bit into your neck hard to tame your thrashing. Your breath left you with piercing pain. Luckily he didn’t break skin.
Satisfied, he pulled away and examined his artwork. There was no hiding the bruises littering the side of your neck. Getting up and off you, Dabi blatantly adjusted the hard-on in his pants.
Pulling yourself up, you watched him flick open the lock. Looking over his shoulder, a wide smirk stretched over his burnt skin at your pathetic form. He pointed to the side of his neck.
“Have fun explaining that to your little boyfriend.”
You slapped a hand over your neck and flinched at the raw skin. Cackling, he slammed the door closed, leaving you in your shame.
#yandere dabi#yandere x reader#yandere touya#yandere bnha#yandere dabi x reader#yandere hawks#dabi x reader#yandere#yandere male#bnha smut#hawks smut#dabi smut
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Please some headcanons if itachi's s/o has illness, how will he tread her and etc
(Love you and your works❤️)
author's note: it took me a while to get to this one, because I had quite a few things waiting in my drafts, so I do apologize! Hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your request! <3
Suffering from his own weak health, seeing his partner unwell would impact Itachi more that he would like to admit.
He would feel weak and helpless as he watches his s/o laying in bed, their breath rigid and their body covered in sweat.
Without a doubt, he would be taking care of all their needs - he would cook for them, clean their house, wash their clothes and even help them shower. From them, he only wanted them to rest and let their immune system battle the disease.
He would strictly observe their day routine and if they are taking your medication as often as prescribed.
How well he shows his concerns, however, will greatly depend on what type of illness his s/o has exactly.
If it is something minor or treatable, he would probably show his worry quite openly.
He would ask his partner every day how are they feeling and would spend hours and hours next to their bed, reading them stories or just caressing their hair, while you sleep.
Itachi is like a mother hen during this time - I imagine he would even stop doing missions for a while, despite knowing it would cause major problems.
If his s/o has a terminal illness, however, the situation may be a bit different.
When Itachi first find out, he was in disbelief. He was finally given a grain of happiness and he was about to lose it too... just like everything else in his life.
When his partner told him, he disappeared for few days. He was still nearby, but he just needed some time to think and clear his head.
Next, he was determined to find a way to save them. He would travel to every single village where there are medics, find the best and even drag them all to his s/o's door, if they refuse to come willingly.
Itachi is not a brute, but he can be when it is about the wellbeing of the ones he loves.
He would probably leave Kisame to watch over his s/o, while he was away, despite their initial fear of his teammate. With how often he was away, however, an unlikely friendship would form between them two.
I feel no matter what they say or how fast their condition worsen, Itachi would not give up searching ways to save their life and would even become angry, when they try to convince him otherwise.
It takes a long conversation with Kisame for him to realise that his lover doesn't have long left and it is best for him to remain by their side during that time.
Before them, he would act like everything is okay - he would try to bring as much normality as he could to his s/o life, but they would still be able to hear him cry himself to sleep at night.
cc artwork: "Wheel of Time" Concept Art
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How the Bigger Bodies Smiling Critters Died (head canons)
Alright so I R E A L L Y wanna talk about how I think the Smiling Critters perished in Poppy Playtime
Cw: mentions of (sorta) cannibalism, torture, accidental suicide, self-harm, addiction in terms of The Red Smoke
this is gonna be r e a l l y long, so strap in y'all
. ☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️ .
Bubba Bubbaphant
"I'm Bubba Bubbaphant! ...Hey! I remember you!"
"An elephant always remembers!"
"Want to know what I remember about you...?"
This character is pretty much the nerd emoji of the Smiling Critters. He's really smart, and, as he stated in his cardboard cut-out dialogue, has a really good memory. Although I can't really see that being put into play of his actual death, I can see that this last bit of information he stated (before just spiraling out of control) can be connected to our character.
(Our character is an ex-worker and is always greeted with distain by the major antagonists, which leads me to believe that we have actively, or at least indirectly, participated in the child/worker experimentation/conversion based on what Bubba says.
Although in his last bit of "dialogue", he's screaming quite loudly as if he was in major agony, but also laughing, as if he was ingesting something that caused great harm to his mentality and body, but since he's had it so many times before to the point where he actively begs to have more, it's agonizing, but also "heavenly."
Therefore I think his cause of death would be due to him trying to escape during The Hour of Joy, but was eventually caught by CatNap and his use of The Red Smoke. In the Smiling Critters cartoon, all the critters are struggling to go to sleep because of how scared they were of the storm outside. However, once CatNap enters, they all practically light up with such disturbing happiness. Bubba is the first one to beg him to "help them go to sleep". Fast forward to The Hour of Joy, CatNap must've used his addiction against him to keep him sorta in place so he could kill him.
KickenChicken
"Hey! I'm KickenChicken! Wanna go outside and hang out?"
"It's lookin' pretty rad outside!"
"I've...never been outside before..."
"Will you come with me? I'm scared..."
"Here, follow me. I-I'll step out first..."
Here, I used to think that he had barricaded himself along with some of the other critters somewhere safe inside the Playcare during The Hour of Joy, and he decided to step outside once all the humans were finally killed. Once he did, CatNap found him and killed him for his disobedience towards his god.
But a recent theory sorta convinced me otherwise. I still believe in my own theory, but I also support the fact that KickenChicken could've also been one of the first toys to reach an exit to the outside world. But, once he and the other critter tried to step outside, he got killed by the Prototype.
Picky Piggy
"Hi there! I'm Picky Piggy! Let's eat!"
"Roast beef? Delicious!"
"Grilled chicken? Down the hatch!"
"Seared elephant? Yum!"
"Flayed unicorn? Mmm!"
"Still hungry... Hey, what do you say you and I be friends?"
(This one actually scares the hell out of me, i love it)
And it's pretty obvious too, for the most part. I believe that Picky was separated by the other critters during The Hour of Joy, and ended up with nothing to eat for a long time.
She ended up wandering aimlessly throughout the factory and eventually came across the corpses of her dead friends. Saddened, but desperate for food, she ate her friends' corpses as soon as she came along them, but all that effort soon went to waste as she eventually died of starvation, a constant theme throughout Poppy Playtime.
Hoppy Hopscotch
"I'm Hoppy Hopscotch! Wanna try hopping to the moon with me?"
"On three with me! One... two... three! ...Heh, didn't get very far, did we?"
"Again! One, two, three! Nope... still didn't make it."
"Listen! This won't stop until we make it to the moon!"
"One, two- No, no! Don't look at your feet! None of that matters! Again! Again!"
"JUMP! JUUUU-"
Yeah this one just makes me really sad, seeing how I think her death most likely would be accidental suicide. In an attempt to escape CatNap or The Prototype or another toy that was hunting them down for food, or maybe just trying to reach somewhere that lead to an exit, she encouraged her friend(s) to jump towards freedom, but due to her impulsive/impatient tendencies, she didn't think it through and ended up falling to her death.
Bobby Bearhug
"Hi! I'm Bobby Bearhug! Wanna know how much I love you?"
"I love you to the moooon and back!"
"I'm crazy about you." "I'm lost without you."
"I've been lost a long time..."
"Please, take me with you this time...!"
"You won't leave me, will you??"
Bobby loves everyone and everything, unconditionally. So, when The Hour of Joy occurred, she naturally felt terrified and wanted to stick close by with her friends as they tried to find a way out of the factory after that day. This might also be in relation to DogDay and Picky as well. DogDay probably shooed them away in attempt to save them from CatNap, and while the massacre occurred, Picky got lost during all the chaos. Them being her friends, she was greatly distraught by this, but soon forced herself to go along with who was left. That was when she probably witness some of their deaths: Bobby being lured by the Red Smoke and eventually killed, Kicken getting killed by either CatNap or The Protoype, Hoppy falling to her death, being scared away by CraftyCorn (I'll get to her later).
"Take me with you this time!" I believe this line was spawned from DogDay's actions. Since he was the leader of their group, she, along with the other critters, looked up to him. Perhaps Bobby believed if he has taken all of them with him, she wouldn't have ended up all alone.
She eventually ended up all alone, turned to madness by loneliness as she always thought about the events that made her friends leave her. After a long time of wandering and losing hope, bit by bit as each day passed, she died of starvation.
CraftyCorn
"H-Hi, I'm CraftyCorn. Will you help me with my painting? Pass me the blue, please!"
"Thanks! Now, will you give me some red?"
"More red, please!"
"Out...? But, w-we can't be out."
"You're hiding more red from me... I know you are..."
"GIVE IT HERE!"
"There, now that's much better!"
Despite CraftyCorn's established gentle and caring personality, both would be thrown away for the sake of keeping her creative juices flowing. She always loves everything artistic, so she also most likely uses it as a coping mechanism (and that's also seen in the Smiling Critter's cartoon, where CraftyCorn is drawing on multiple pages while still being scared of the storm outside).
I believe she also witnessed some of her friends' deaths along with Bobby Bearhug, and, as her way of coping, she just tries drawing and drawing and painting and painting her worries away. But while her urges to cope may last, drawing materials do not for long, and she eventually runs out. This causes her to turn to panic, as she thinks she'll have to finally face reality that her friends are gone, but she's not ready, so she desperately tires to find more art materials, mostly the color red (because that's the most of what she's been seeing since The Hour of Joy). So, in a blind, maddened dismay, she attacks her friends and uses their blood for painting, piling on unimaginable guilt for hurting her friends, the very thing she was trying not to make herself realize.
Now as for her death. Her remaining friend(s) probably ended up leaving her for the sake of their own safety. She doesn't realize this, because again, she's so deep in her own distractions that she's lost touch with reality, until she finally runs out of red again. She desperately tries to find more, but can't extract any from an outside source.
So she uses her own blood as paint. She extracts her blood, runs out, extracts again, runs out again, extracts again, runs out again, over and over until she finally harms herself to the point of dying from blood loss.
DogDay
"DogDay says... fetch!"
"Go, go! As far as you can!"
"Why are you...just standing there?"
"You can't be here. You can't stay..."
As I said earlier, DogDay must have helped his friends escape from CatNap's hunting ground and the main killing areas during The Hour of Joy. He realizes that CatNap holds a burning rage for him and his friends for not going along with The Prototypes control, and drives them out somewhere where he thinks they'll be safe. But he then told them that he couldn't go with them, because as the leader of the Smiling Critters, and holding a deep love for his friends, he felt the need to sacrifice himself so they can be safe.
Once they were away, he goes and finds CatNap. Since I believe that DogDay was once a worker for Playtime Co., I don't think he remembers his past. Therefore, he truly believes that he is DogDay, and that the Smiling Critters, including CatNap, have been friends for a lifetime. He believes that his friend is still in there, not seeing the fact that CatNap remembers exactly who he is and how he became this way, including why he worships The Prototype. DogDay tries to convince CatNap to remember all the good times they had (even though, with the Big Bodies version of the cast, CatNap was particularly distant from the rest of the Smiling Critters, since I assume they're also workers). Of course, this doesn't work, and CatNap attempts to kill him.
However, I believe that DogDay had escaped and went to look for his friends once he was at a safe distance. But this is FAR after the events of his friends' deaths, so one by one he comes across his friends' corpses, personally seeing the horrors of after The Hour of Joy "I'm...the last of the Smiling Critters...." (what he says before his own death)
After years of losing so much hope, seeing that none of his friends survived the horrors of the factory, DogDay doesn't see the point in trying to escape. If his friends didn't make it, what was the point? And, during his most vulnerable, this is how CatNap eventually ends up finding him. He gained some sick pleasure into see this heretic suffer, but he felt that he needed more misery, by kidnapping him and torturing him by cutting off his legs and feeding them to the mini critters, and stringing him up in the prison where he's slowly eaten by The Prototype's worshippers.
Still, he holds onto what sanity he has left from his interactions with Poppy (who I believe he ran into while he was wandering the Factory), and believed that an angel will bring them salvation.
. ☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️ .
That's about it! Hope you guys enjoyed!!
~ 💜🌙 ~
#the smiling critters#poppy playtime#poppy playtime chapter 3#headcanons#poppy#dogday#hoppy hopscotch#catnap#bubba bubbaphant#kicken chicken#craftycorn#bobby bearhug#picky piggy#s-m-i-l-e ev-er-y day!#smiling critters
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hello i’m back from the dead, here’s a little something of reader being delusional in honor of tortured poets department. how could i not, i’m literally saylor twift.
Down Bad▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 4:20
word count: 1859
“Playing it cool” is quite possibly one of the stupidest pieces of advice anyone could ever give. It’s practically human nature for people to do the exact opposite of what they’re told, no matter how much they don’t want to. It’s much more appealing to adhere to the phrase, “If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself”, and as someone as independent and stubborn as you were, it was all too easy to tune out what anyone else had to say about your situation. Were you making any progress? Of course not. But for the time being, you were perfectly content to simply admire your muse from a view. (Not really, it was difficult as hell. But that’s really all he’d allow from you.)
There was one question though that plagued your mind: why then, if you’d been able to manage conversations with him just fine in the past like any two friends would, was it so difficult to even walk past him now that your true feelings had been realized? Shouldn’t you have some sort of advantage, having known him for so long? And to make matters worse, recently it had been feeling like the two of you were complete strangers. It truly felt as if he was avoiding you like the plague- it was a miracle if you were able to even spot him from a distance strolling down Treasures Street. If you happened to make eye contact, it would make your face burn and your stomach tingle with butterflies to an almost embarrassing extent. You kept telling yourself that next time you saw him, you’d talk to him. The plan was that if you could slowly bring yourself closer and closer to him, you’d be able to experience the slow burn romance of your dreams!
Unfortunately though, as well as unsurprisingly, every time there was a ‘next time’, you felt yourself too afraid to make any sort of attempt at conversation. You had begun to worry that you’d possibly done something wrong, because he was giving you the impression that he wanted nothing to do with you. Quickened steps when he saw you approaching, or a nasty habit of breaking eye contact the second it was created were just a few of the new behaviors you’d noticed. Is it possible, then, that he’d caught on to your feelings, and is avoiding a confession at all costs? No, that can’t be it. You hadn’t done anything that would warrant any sort of suspicion from him. (Outwardly, at least. Your daydreams reminiscent of those of a crush-stricken middle schooler would say otherwise.) In any case, it was getting harder and harder to stay optimistic when with every passing day the two of you grew more distant.
One day, you keep telling yourself, you’d have the courage to make a move on the cold, sarcastic, and unapproachable young man. After all, you were convinced the two of you were destined to be together. It was just a matter of time before it happened, right?
Until suddenly you were struck painfully in the face with a harsh reality check. You watch him exit the large wooden doors of the Akedimiya, as he usually does at this time of day. You’d decided to wait for him, in hopes you’d be able to gather your courage and greet him. And then maybe, he’d continue the conversation, just like old times. You stood outside, meanwhile leaning up against one of the large stone pillars and nervously anticipating his arrival. He’s uncharacteristically late today. Usually, he’s the type to remain in his classes for absolutely no longer than what is necessary. You can’t help but wonder if you’ve somehow got the time wrong, or maybe his schedule. Today was Friday, right? You were certain his lectures ended at exactly this time every Friday. (You absolutely did not have his entire class schedule memorized, what kind of an obsessed weirdo would do that?) After an agonizing amount of time later, awaiting his arrival with bated breath and nearly on the verge of chickening out and returning home where your nerves wouldn’t be attacking you every waking moment, the wooden doors swing open. And lo and behold, there he is: your beloved Hat Guy. Only… he’s not alone?
Walking side by side, the Wanderer strolls out into the sunshine next to a lovely looking brown haired girl, also adorning the typical Akedimiya attire. She yaps on about something to him, all the while with a large grin on her face. One that you cannot deny is a beautiful smile. But the strangest part is, he doesn’t seem to be ticked off by her presence in the slightest. If anything, you swore you could see the slightest hint of a smile tug at his lips. (However, if you could read his mind, you’d find that he was actually imagining what it would be like if he could make her explode solely using the powers of his mind. That’s how bugged he was. But alas, your delusions always seem to get the best of you.)
Why on Teyvat was this random girl from the Akedimiya able to hold casual conversation with him, of all people? Seriously, her and not you? You’re the one who knows everything about him, you’re the one who’s seen him at his worst, the one who knows his past, and everything he’s become because of it. All of this and yet, you still can’t bring yourself to just fucking talk to him anymore.
You’re so in love with him it physically hurts. The feeling wraps itself around your very heart, beating frantically, with searing hot metal wires and won’t let it breathe for even a second. What’s the reason? You’re not even sure. He’s an asshole. He’s a loner. He’s a Harbinger. You pause, realizing the path your thoughts have taken. Was a Harbinger, actually.
Oh yeah.
That’s why you love him.
Because he’s changed. Despite his pain and sorrows, despite all of the betrayals and all of those people he’s hurt in turn, that’s not who he is anymore. It’s not who he wants to be. You can see it in the way he smiles when he doesn’t think anyone’s watching. And not the sadistic little smirk he usually shows, no, but a genuine smile that rests upon his lips as he watches the children laugh and chase after each other along the streets during midday. And oh, how you wish he’d smile at you like that! But here you are, witnessing him as he gives that very same smile to the beautiful brunette Akademiya girl at his side. (He absolutely was not smiling.)
But you suppose it does make a bit of sense, doesn’t it? He couldn’t possibly have any interest in you, you who’s certain to hate him for everything he’s done. You, who’s seen what he was like at his utmost vulnerable. He couldn’t love someone who could use that to their advantage. He wants a fresh start, doesn’t he? And wouldn’t that include meeting brand new people who only know him for the self he presents for them, and not the bloodthirsty, heart-stricken puppet of the past? What if, what if it truly wasn’t meant to be? What if despite all the love you harbored, even if it was so much it was spilling out the cracks of your very soul, he wouldn’t be able to notice? What if his own heart was breaking out of its protective shell and reaching out to someone new? What if that someone new was the girl currently at his side right now? (Oh boy, calm down, will you? You’re getting ahead of yourself here. You don’t even have any idea what they’re talking about.)
Watching them walk together, you just can’t bring yourself to walk up to him anymore. All of that previously collected, albeit false confidence, vanished in an instant. And so, with a confused, dazed, and lovesick heart, you turn around and walk away in the opposite direction. You were so certain he could be the one. What if you truly couldn’t have him? You supposed, for a moment, it would be the same thing as death. There wouldn’t be much of a difference, would there?. That’s where you catch yourself. A bit much, isn’t it? Not death, you reason, but definitely something very painful. What happened to the composure you usually held? All down the drain now, it seems. Your eyes well up in tears, even though a part of you knows you shouldn’t be reacting this way. The sun blazes against your shoulders, almost mockingly, against your delusional, lovesick, and oh so very down bad self, as you make your way down the paved steps from the Akademiya.
——————————————————————
“A partner project? You can’t be serious. Please, remind me, how would putting me in this situation be beneficial to either of us?” Asks a very vexed Wanderer, standing before the god of wisdom herself in the middle of the Sanctuary of Surasthana, only a few hours prior.
“I hardly see you interacting with other people. Aside from me, of course! I truly believe that expanding your horizons to new relationships could help you to open your mind! Don’t tell me you really have no interest in making friends?” Nahida chirps, hopping down from her platform. A swing made from vines of dendro energy, dissipates into the air at her absence.
“I fail to see how writing an argumentative essay alongside another person is a friendship-making strategy.” He retorts back, crossing his arms.
“How can you know if you never try? I’m not saying you have to be lifelong friends with your partner, but you should get to know your peers. Nearly the entirety of the Akademiya is dying to get to know you!”
“Just because I’ve acquired a group of crazed fans does not mean I have to entertain them. And especially not because you think I need friends.” That last word lingers on his tongue. Friends. Speaking of, didn’t you once say you considered him a friend? Despite his words, the thought doesn’t make him as sick as he thought it would. Not really sick at all, actually.
“Won’t you try it, just once? If not for you, then for me?” She pleads. How odd to have a god ask you for something, he thinks. Although, considering his relationship to Nahida, it’s really not all that strange.
“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want.” She replies, giggling proudly.
And so, with a huff and a sigh of indignation, Wanderer agrees with much trepidation to go along with Nahida’s odd little plan of a partner project. So long as he gets it over with quickly, it can’t be too bad. And maybe if he finishes in time, he’ll be able to see you again. It has been quite some time. And although he tells himself he doesn’t really want to see you, he’s beginning to realize that statement probably isn’t true.
Just a little bit.
Definitely not.
You’ll figure it out one day, just wait and see.
#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x reader#kabukimono x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin fic#the tortured poets department#down bad#you’re all a bunch of simps aren’t you#it’s ok tho!! no shame in it#Spotify
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Okay so I know Jason gets a copy of this/has the original but I firmly believe that all the Robins' graduation photos decorate Alfred's room.
#do what you want I will not be convinced otherwise#alfred pennyworth#batgrandad#batman#dc comics#bruce wayne#red hood and the outlaws#rebirth#red hood#jason todd
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she’s bi (and exasperated)
#who are queue? what do queue want?#for once it’s not an incorrect quote#babylon 5#b5#delenn#a win for the bisexuals#to be fair#if I had her coworkers… I’d be making those faces too#now I’m not saying she hogs Sheridan’s flannels…#but yes I am.#she absolutely does#you cannot convince me otherwise
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suggestion do you have... any wants? like obviously you do but like? suggestion my guy my ourple boy. both the easiest and hardest to write. you need a skill to say something to move conversation along but it doesn't fit any skill in particular? about 80% of the time you can have suggestion say it and it will make sense. but like actually characterizing him... how do i define you dude... what makes your character tick... urgh. i dont get you yet. im trying to understand but you are difficult.
#chemi chats#there are some skills that i just dont understand yet and that just means i have to work on their character study chapter#im reading his bio and i think suggestion is a good manipulator and it's instinctive and he tries not to feel bad about it?#he's clever!! charming!! friends with savvy and drama. planting seeds in the mind and coaxing them to grow towards him like he's the sun.#a crude oil reservoir lying beneath a carefully laid flower bed. taps into the roots. the plants don't know any better than to drink.#he's great at sensing what makes people tick and uses that to his advantage. he needs goals to look forward to so he knows how to best#pull the strings to get them there. otherwise he's a bit aimless. he likes being useful. and since influencing others is helpful#he just keeps doing it? because it's what he's good at. and he tries to convince himself its fun and cool and just cuz hes charming and#it's his role as a skill and manipulation isnt thaaaat bad because it's helpful to them after all... but he does feel bad sometimes.#oh im listening to his voice lines and i just got to ''brother you should have put me in front of a firing squad'' and im sad about him now#but what do you want for short term little guy?? probably for people to like him. he likes chatting with people. i bet he'd like genuine#conversations with no strings attached but there's always some part of him filing information and tidbits away that he can't turn off#subconsciously figuring out things he can hold over them or how he can nudge them into thinking someth-/wait.../ no. no he's just talking.#he's /supposed/ to just be talking stop analyzing them stop falling back into that just have a normal conversation!! but he can't help it..#hm. this is all really helpful for his chapter. he and empathy are very alike but also different. very interesting...#task: swept up#okay good talk everyone i think i understand him a little better now lmao?? still gotta figure him out some more hes not fully there but ye#also i think he goes by whatever pronoun you think he'd use. just ''oh what do /you/ think i am hm?? what /would/ i use; do you think?? :)'#funny fella. i love you.
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I feel like, if Ren were a VTuber, he'd make his model look exactly like him (ears, tail, and all) so he could get complimented at conventions
Fan; "OMG, I love your Fuchs cosplay!"
Ren; "Thanks, it's not a cosplay :3"
#he is 100% the kind of asshole to do this you cannot convince me otherwise#bro just wants compliments what can i say#ren hana#btd ren#boyfriend to death 2#boyfriend to death#boyfriend to death headcanon#shut up vee#his twitch handle would be Halsbandfuchs btw
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im sure the default norm for things like erotic horror is for people to interpret it as turning horror into something erotic but my sex-repulsed ass just sees the horror aspect and i think yea that's right. this is not uniquely disturbing to me because it visualizes how disturbing all sex is to me. this guy gets it. (they do not get it they're being horny about it)
#non judgemental but weird experience#its like. if a sex-repulsed artist drew something to visualize what sex-repulsion is like#and what it feels like to live in a world where people expect you to want something that you feel is inherently violating to you#there would still be people who would unironically interpret it as erotic. do you understand what im saying#living as a sex repulsed adult in this world is like being surrounded by people who tell you#that you should want to dig thorns into your skin as deep as they go and that the idea of doing so should seem pleasant to you#and that you are abnormal for not wanting to do this and you are an object of ridicule for having never yet done it#of course I support other people doing it and I will fight to dismantle the stigma surrounding it#but I sincerely will not be taking part in it myself#and if you try to convince me or anyone else otherwise you deserve to have rabid dogs set upon you
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sooo glad we live in the universe where twdgs4 was rewritten to be about saving the school instead of the original lis2-esque on the road each-episode-is-a-new-location plot. really dodged a bullet there
dont know if it was due to the cuts and collapsing work environment (no budget for all the assets needed) or what but the school plot is just like the perfect setting for her to end her story. and we really almost got a plot about her.... just trying to make it back to her original house? oof
#my biggest problem with lis2 is that being on the road made a lot of your choices essentially meaningless#like wheres the threat of consequence when you know youll be gone by the next episode anyway?#the kids were originally gonna kick them out permanently.......Nightmare Scenario#the plot of her trying to get back 'home' is so silly honestly like its Just nostalgia/fan bait. convince me otherwise you cant#it makes no sense....she lived right outside a major city... that place is Not safe anymore#it wasnt even safe when she left it 8 years ago girl why would you go back#her finding a place to MAKE a new home and having to fight for it? with a community of her peers who love and respect her? so much better#shes a community leader now :) of a bunch of kids living secretly in the woods just trying to make a safe home for themselves#in a hostile world that wants them dead#love that for her#shes been managing adults since she was 11 and even before that tried to be a voice of reason. at 8 years old. community leader makes sense#s4 is just so narratively sound to me for clems character that i cant believe there was ever any other direction they wanted to go in#every time im thinking about how good s4 is i remember what it almost was......... and i am so grateful we got what we did#not only do we live in the universe where s4 is about the school but we Also live in the universe where s4 was un-cancelled :) yay#shit makes me so happy man. i remember clem is living happily at ericsons and my day is Immediately improved#these little fictional bitches in my head giving me free serotonin on command#it speaks#twdg
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MiqoMarch Day Three-Free Day
A moment of respite
#when we do shb on them i will be crying#miqomarch#tahla'to#keeper of the moon#my ocs#gpose#ffxiv#this is what i get for convincing crypyocorvid to let me make them both wols#we made them each a shard of azem bc i thought haha funny soulmates#and now im crying over them daily#they're husbands ur honor#also i did make him have more armor in shb on purpose bc its scary out there#also we made it so lahabrea only for real killed tahla and like idk i think abt it alot#u take two normal guys and just completely fuck em up#hydalen's specialist little guys do not want to be#my favorite trope is being a hero bc you are forced to otherwise the world would explode
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But fr the average mental health/self esteem of a sadist/dom is ABYSMAL. If you are a sadist/dom I love you and I want you to start safewording and applying aftercare to yourself NOW
#also bad sub etiquette is rampant and if youre a sub you need to do the fucking work#i know people are overadjusting bc of the prevalence of assholes calling themselves doms but the fucking normalized shitty attitudes in subs#has to GO#you have to take care of the dom in the scene too!!! pay attention to their body language! stop pressuring them!!!!!#if you dont give a shit about the safety and wellbeing of your dom if you only care about yours guess what!!!!#youre also an asshole!!!!#if you want more 'good doms' in your community then start caring about them!!!!#otherwise the 'good ones' are going to hate themselves and convince themselves theyre monsters!!!!#and youll only be left with the kind of people who doesnt care that much about being a monster#you have a responsibility in this!!! goddamn!!!
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