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mothwingwritings · 6 months ago

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Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face.

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head. You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often. And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond? If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now.

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process. Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential. How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him. “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

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quins-makeshift-menagerie · 5 months ago

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As promised, some Mew/Two bases(+ fluffy alts) for y’all~ Free to use, just don’t erase my signature. Also up on Toyhouse for archival purposes and (hopefully) higher quality!

#mew #mewtwo #pokemon #art #2024 #wow art!#I chickened out and didn’t make them too fluffy 😔#I hope you enjoy them regardless!!!#if you use them please be sure to tag me I’d love to see all your sillies QvQ

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

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Please please bo sort a girl out with Ghoap x Reader in an abandoned farm 🤪🤪

1k game here - no more please!

@luminousbeings-crudematter my beloved!!! idk if tumblr gives you a notif when i post an ask you sent so im tagging you just in case lol. also you said "unhinged texas chainsaw massacre" and i tried my best but i've never seen that movie :')

3.8k of ghoap x reader ft. ghost and soap hunting down their newest pet in a corn maze (cw: rough noncon sex, kinda puppy play? super light) this is mostly soap x reader, sorry!!

The collar is heavy around your neck, making every breath difficult as you pant. Your lungs seize in your chest when you stumble through the corn maze, desperate for any light at the end of the tunnel.

It doesn't come, but you push on anyways.

The corn is rough against your arms and legs, your body vulnerable to the rough stalks with so many tears in your clothes. Everything hurts - your feet from the rough ground, your throat from all the screaming, your stomach from pure fear and adrenaline. You're too blinded from terror to focus on any of that, the only thought in your head to go go go go get away.

The roar of a chainsaw is loud somewhere to your right. You nearly fall to your knees at the sound, windmilling your eyes to keep yourself steady. A loud, manic laugh echoes from the same direction, and your legs nearly give out.

Fuck, he's right there.

You can't think about how close the sound is, can't focus on how you swear you can see the corn moving, you can only run.

The stalks split in front of you, and you stumble into a clearing. You freeze, feet stopped right on the border of the new area. You bounce onto your toes, like you'd been tugged to a stop before exposing yourself.

The clearing is empty accept for an old tractor, sitting in the center of the grass. It's just a large enough circle that you'd be exposed for several seconds if you tried to reach it, totally clear if anyone was in the stalks.

But... you could hide there, couldn't you? The machine looks massive from your vantage point, there's surely a place to hide there.

It feels cruel to leave your fellow victims to the killers hunting them down, but you know that you have to try and save yourself before trying to help someone else.

You take a deep breath as you sink back to your heels, crouching a little lower in the corn to see if you can spot any movement around the perimeter.

The chainsaw revs again, and someone screams.

Your decision is made for you. The sound of death sends you forward, instinct making you move.

The dirt is rough beneath your feet, small rocks sticking into the soft parts of your sole and offsetting your run. You try your best to keep your balance, eyes trained on the tractor and the small space you know you can squeeze in.

It's silent but for the sound of your own panting, blood rushing through your ears, nothing but that perceived safety in your mind.

Just as you start to ready your legs to launch yourself up to the seat, legs tensing, you're shoved away. Your breath is forced from your lungs as you hit the ground, dirt and rocks shoved into your arms as you roll.

"Ah!" You cry out, forced to your stomach as you roll. It takes a minute to recognize what's happened, for it to click in your mind that someone's there.

It's too late by the time you realize.

You still try to get away, some animal part of you knowing that it's dangerous to stay down.

You manage to get to your knees, eyes darting wildly to spot whoever's tackled you, to know what direction to run. But the field is empty, and you're already moving before you think to look behind you.

It costs you, because you hardly get a step away before you're shoved to the ground again, your attacker staying over your body.

"Where you goin'?" The man rumbles in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and lips against your ear. He nips the shell of your ear and your eyes fly open, face shoved into the dirt.

Hardly a foot away, a chainsaw rests in the dirt. Blood drenches the blade, slowly dripping into a puddle beneath the weapon. It makes you whimper, trying to squirm away from the killer above you.

"No, no, no," he purrs, nosing his way to your cheek and just leaning there, pressing his smile into your skin, his voice rumbling through your back. "Down, pup, c'mon, you're caught. No point in runnin'."

"Please-" you gasp, neck arching to try and get away. "Please, please, please-"

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. "Please, please, please?" His voice pitches up in a mocking tone, a horrible imitation of yours. "You a broken record, lass? Only wanna say the same thing? Come on, tha's no fun, gimme something new."

You shout, the sound caught somewhere between a cough and a sob, hands stretching forward and clawing at the earth. "Please!"

He truly laughs now, a sharp noise in your ear. He stretches himself up above you, chest lifting and hips pushing into yours so that your legs are pinned. All you can do it try to drag yourself forward, hot tears beginning to fall as you're held down in the same place.

"Guess it does sound good from your lips," he muses. He shifts behind you, knees squeezing to either side of your hips and hands reaching so he can grab your elbows.

"Look'it you," he tsks, bending forward to lace your hands together. You cry out at the feeling of being covered, his chest above your head. "Ruinin' your pretty nails, and for what?"

Your head drops to the ground, sobs tearing your throat to shreds as spit falls from your lips. You feel bile working in your stomach, that horrible tension beneath your tongue like you're about to throw up.

"I can't-" you gasp, panic clawing at your mind. You know this man is going to kill you, that he's going to make it hurt, and every part of you rebels at just the thoughts. You can't stop fighting, can't stop trying to get away from him even with the weight holding you down.

"Can't what?" He hums, shifting to kneel above you so that he's not nearly suffocating you. "Can't go anywhere? Naw, bonnie, you're not goin' anywhere now. Caught you fair and square, didn't I?"

There's a part of you that screams to try and argue, to take a deep breath and settle to see if you can make some sort of deal, but the bigger part of you can't calm down, can't do anything but try and shove yourself out from the maniac above you.

"Plus, if I let you go runnin' off you might get caught by Simon." His arms settle on your shoulders and you can't help but yelp, ducking your head low to try and protect your neck. "Then I'd lose. You want that? Thought we were closer than that, lass."

You sob, teeth clenched tight. You don't fucking know the man, you don't know whoever Simon is, you just want to go home.

"That's what I thought," he hums. "Now," he pushes up, and your arms and torso are free as he settles back to rest his weight on your thighs. "I think you and I have some time to play, hm? Before Simon catches us both."

You don't- you don't know what he means, and it's hard to breathe past the fear. It clicks when his hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly.

"Wait," you gasp, eyes flying wide when his fingers creep beneath the hem of your jeans. "Wait, stop-"

"Oh, look at that," he laughs, hands shoving further down until his palms wrap around your thighs. "Learned some new words, baby?"

Your eyes squeeze as your feet kick against the dirt, unable to find any traction without shoes. Scrabbling so frantically only to stay right where you're pinned only serves to work you up more, to make your heart race faster.

"You're warm," he hums, kneading at your thighs and using his wrists to force the pants down, slowly revealing more and more of your skin to the cold night air. "Gonna warm me up, lass?"

"No," you hiss, the realization of what he's going to do sinking in. Your pants are pulled down to mid thigh, keeping your thighs from spreading and leaving your backside on display. "Stop- I'll- don't you dare-"

He laughs again, landing a harsh smack to your vulnerable ass. You cut your begging off with a yelp, hips rocketing into the ground to try and escape the sting when he lands another slap.

"You tryin' to boss me around? Real cute, pup, but you don't have a leg to stand on. Stuck pinned in the dirt and still tryin' to be in charge?" He laughs again, blows shifting from slaps to taps, jiggling the fat of your ass. "Cute, bonnie. Real cute."

You fold an arm beneath your face, try to use the other to force yourself up. "Stop fucking- stop hitting me, you bastard!"

"Oh!" He cackles, his lap slap almost bruising in it's force. "She's got some spine, huh? Maybe you'll be more fun than I thought."

You snarl into the dirt, legs kicking up behind you to try and hit his back. He's too high up on your thighs o reach, and you end up kicking the air like a toddler throwing a tantrum. It only fuels your anger, makes you feel more stuck.

"Keep fightin', bonnie." He presses himself closer to your face, and you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth from your peripheral, his smile sharp. "Makes it more fun for me. Think you'll tighten up if you kick kickin' and screamin'?"

You scream, a primal sound straight from the gut as you throw your head back and to the side, trying to hit him. You somehow manage it, but you hurt yourself just as much. You cry out at the sudden pain in the back of your skull, crumbling back to the ground.

There's a loud moan over your shoulder, and his hips press into yours. He's hard to your horror, his length pressing against the softness of your ass. "Fuck, that felt good."

God, the man is disturbed.

Your attempted attack doesn't stop him from hooking his fingers in your underwear, tugging them down to rest in the crease where your thighs meet your ass.

"Pretty," he purrs, hands stroking from your rips to your jeans, hands pushing hard enough to make you whine. His treatment is all too rough, like he's trying to mold you into the shape he wants. "Can't wait to get my dick in you," he groans, groping you.

"Nooo," you whine, trying to push yourself into the dirt, like it might open you up and swallow you whole, help you escape the horror you can't do anything to stop. "You can't- you can't fuck me, please, don't-"

He moans again, and you hear the clinking of a belt being undone. "Fuck, say it again for me."

Your eyes squeeze shut. You want to be anywhere else, anywhere but here.

You feel the heat of his cock against your ass, and tears sting in your eyes. You taste dirt against your lips, feel your palms sluggishly bleed from the scrapes against the rough ground. You try to focus on everything but what the killer's doing to you, but's impossible

His palm cups your center, fingers wrapping around your vulva and holding firmly. You flinch when his middle finger works between your folds, coming to rest on your clit.

"Need to get you wet," he mumbles, starting to work at the nub to coax some pleasure out of your body. "Simon wouldn't like it if I made you bleed." He snorts, then corrects, "Well, bleeding down there. Won't be shocked if he wants to carve you up a bit."

You shiver, focused too much on staying stiff and keeping your mind as far away as possible to put off the inevitable. What he says doesn't even properly click in your mind, floating in one ear and out the other.

"There we go," he purrs, palm growing slick as your body warms to him unwillingly. He grunts as he shifts to use both hands, one focusing on your clit and the other coming back to tease at your hole.

Two fingers slip in without warning and you yelp at the sudden stretch, hips bucking back instinctively and forcing the fingers further. Your moan is pulled from your chest, part pleasure and part pain.

"You want more lass? Here, don't mind stretching you out."

The third finger comes too soon, too suddenly, and the sting edges too close to pain for you to feel good, even unwillingly.

He's got no patience at all, fingers spreading inside of you while his thumb works furiously at your clit. The mix of good and bad leaves your head clouded, tears slowing as your mind starts to float away a bit.

He moans against your back, face pressed into your shoulder. "Feel so tight, bonnie. Can't wait til you're wrapped around me, wet and tight... fuck, can't wait much longer..."

His teeth press into you throw the fabric of your shirt, the bite only slightly blunted. You breath stutters out of your chest, lips shaking. You want to fight, tell yourself that you should bite and claw and scream, but he's already proven to you that he'd only enjoy that. All you can do is lie in the dirt, lamp and shaking.

Despite all your fear and your hatred for the man over you, you wish he'd stretched you out more.

"Gotta get inside of ya," he grunts, tugging his fingers out with a terribly wet sound. You can hear him sucking your wetness off of them as he shifts further up, letting his hard length rest between your thighs. "Don't... God, you taste good, don't wanna stretch you out too much. You get it, yeah bonnie?"

You whine forlornly, turning your head to the side. You can see him over your shoulder - tall and broad, brown hair in a... mohawk?, bright teeth shown off in a smile. He ducks down while he fists his cock, dipping himself into your wetness.

Wet lips press a kiss to your cheek, a trail of that wetness left against your face. When he pulls back you see the blood dripping from his nose, sniffle at the realization that he's left his own blood over your face.

"Look pretty in red," he whispers, tone oddly soft. It tugs another tear out of you, dripping down the bridge of your nose. His free hand comes up to your face, running a finger through the tear track and sucking the drop off his fingertip. "Taste good everywhere, love."

Your eyes close when he notches himself at your hole, pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch. He's massive, and the prospect of him shoving himself fully inside of you... you shudder, trying to loosen yourself as much as you can.

He's not kind when he pushes in. You're not sure why you hoped he would be, not with the blood-soaked chainsaw still in your line of sight. But the sudden fullness, the sting, the stretch, draws a high cry from your lips.

His groan nearly drowns out your sounds, your walls spasming around him to try and adjust. You hate that it feels so good for him when you feel like you can hardly breathe around him.

"Feels so good," he moans, words hardly enunciated, thick accent only thickened by his pleasure. You can hardly understand him, far too upset to bother translating him in your head.

"Can't-" he pants, hips jerking out just a few inches only to buck back into yours, pushing as far inside as he can. "Can't come, but can get you off, yeah?"

There's a part of you that's confused by that, that wonders what the fuck he's talking about, but a much larger part of you is focused on the slow drag inside of you.

It would feel better if you were a little wetter, a little more stretched out, but you can't change those things. You relax, try to force your body to cooperate just to make things easier. You try to lean into the parts that do feel good - the way his cock drags against all the most sensitive parts of you, the slap of his balls against your clit - and sink into that pleasant feeling instead of the adrenaline still lingering in your veins.

He doesn't speak when he fucks into you, forehead pressed into your shoulder blade as he starts to drive you truly insane. It starts feeling good quickly enough for you to forget the pain, the horror, and you gladly fall into the oblivion creeping over your mind.

It's good, as horrible as it is to think. The bastard knows what he's doing.

It's some indeterminate amount of time later when you hear the stalks shifting again, eyes flying open just in time to see a man step into the clearing.

The man over you moans when the stranger gets closer, turning his head to the side. His hips buck into you even more roughly, your thighs beginning to ache from the force.

"Simon," he calls out, and it clicks in your head.

The new man is masked and wearing all black, and you recognize him as the other killer hunting you through the maze. His mask is just as terrifying from close up as it was when you first glanced over your shoulder while running, the sight of him in the distance almost floating while surrounded by shadows.

"Bein' good, Johnny?" He rumbles, boots stopping next to the chainsaw and toeing it away.

"Yes, sir," the man over you - Johnny - grunts, thrusts erratic. "Left-left the ring on, haven't come, promise."

There's a hum from above you, the man crouching down. "Good boy. Woulda had to ruin your fun if you got yourself off."

He whines at that, and you can't help but furrow your eyebrows. The man above you going from cocky and terrifying asshole to whining and moaning above you doesn't fit with the image you'd had in your head.

"I ken. 'S why I didn't take it off, ye bawbag." Johnny's voice shakes a bit as he switches to grinding against you, hips pressed flush with yours. The sudden pressure against your clit and so deep inside of you leaves you moaning, eyes rolling back. The peak of an orgasm is right there, just out of reach, and you reach for it desperately.

"Watch it," Simon scolds, shifting forward to his knees and reaching far enough to slap Johnny, the sound echoing through the silent clearing. Your eyes fly open, instinctually flinching away.

Simon's head tilts down to you, ignoring Johnny's whine. His gloved hand comes down to rest on your face, gripping your chin and lifting enough to get a good look at your face.

"Pretty thing," he says, giving your face a little shake before letting you drop to the ground. You can't even begin to care so close to the edge, focus solely on getting off

"'S what I said."

"Hmm. Why don't you go ahead and get the poor pup off? Looks like she's cockdrunk enough as is, might as well get her the whole way there before we take her home."

"With pleasure, sir."

It's hard to focus after that point. Johnny's hand tunnels beneath your stomach and to your clit, working his hips in full thrusts and rubbing you so perfectly. It takes hardly any time at all to get you off, the perfect mix of sensations sending you flying over that edge.

You're not sure what happens between the time when you come and when Johnny pulls out. Your vision nearly whites out, moving away from the scrapes and bruises and into the pleasure gripping every muscle. It's so much easier to lean into the good than the bad, to pretend the warmth is just the pleasure instead of the man at your back.

You're brought back into the real world by the feeling of something being wrapped around your neck, left just tight enough for you to jerk, panicked you couldn't breathe.

"Hush, pup," Simon shushes when you jerk up, eyes flying wide. "Just givin' you your collar. Makin' sure anyone who spots you can take you right home, hm?"

Johnny tugs you up as Simon speaks, grip just a tad too rough on your shoulders when he pulls you up to your knees. You're still a bit out of it as he tucks your jeans and underwear up, dick hard and slick against the small of your back.

The fear comes back as you're brought to your feet by Simon, hands on your elbows tugging you up. You're unsteady on your feet, knees almost knocking together while you blearily blink up at the masked man.

The sound of metal clinking together, a small yank against your neck, is what brings you fully back into your skin. Simon clips a leash to your collar and then Johnny's, matching pink and blue leads that make your eyebrows furrow.

Johnny - shirtless, drenched in blood - smiles at you, teeth stained with his own blood.

"Come on," Simon rumbles, a sudden tug against your throat nearly sending you to your feet. "Need to get you home, pup."

Johnny catches you before you can fall, laughing as he helps you up. The sight of a black studded collar at his throat jars you, fingers lifting to feel at the fabric around your throat. It's not studded, just a soft leather with a thick ring at the front where the leash connects.

"Looks good on you," Johnny compliments, guiding you to stumble along behind Simon as the man leads you both away, into one of the entrances to the maze.

"What..." your throat is rough and you cough, heartbeat picking up. "What're you doing?"

Johnny's smile is a little condescending, almost herding you forward by staying half behind you. "Takin' you home, lass. You're the last one alive. You make a pretty final girl, bonnie."

There's a sharp yank at your collar, tugging your attention to Simon where he's glancing over his shoulder at you. "Think you'll make a good pup. Johnny's been needing a new little friend, might as well be you, hm?"

There's.... nothing really to say to that. You're too weak, too shaky to try and make a run for it. The blue leash is held loose in Simon's hand, but the pink is wrapped tight around his fist. There's no way you're strong enough to jerk it out of his hand, and even if you could you've got no way out of the maze - they already found you first.

Johnny's hand nudges you forward, almost making you fall. He moves to walk beside you, shoulders almost rubbing together. You think the expression he shoots you is supposed to be comforting, but it's anything but.

You breathe deeply, head beginning to throb again, and hope you have the strength to survive what they'll do to you.

#so sorry lumi i feel like this is repetitive and not that well written :( hope you enjoy regardless <3 #by the way... my attempt at johnny's accent.... it happened #luminousbeings-crudematter #< aka the loml #bo writes #1k celebration #ghoap x reader

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mulletmitsuya · 7 months ago

Text

Toman Captains + BajiFuyuTora Groupchat

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, mentions of substances, mentions of PTSD

Desc: Baji tries to make a polycule work with some heavy convincing

Baji: alr guys, i'm gonna ask Fuyu and Tora out on a date at the same time

Mitsuya: that's not gonna work

Draken: don't they hate each other? just pick one

Baji: no i'm in love with the both of them so i'm gonna ask both of them out

Baji: also they actually have feelings for each other but haven't realized it yet

Draken: you're pushing it

Smiley: first of all, Kazutora likes women

Baji: no, he has feelings for me but he hasn't realized it yet

Smiley: alright man

Mikey: Baji, your chances are better with Chifuyu. sort that out first because you're gonna ruin the entire friendgroup dynamic with this shit😟

Baji: we're not a friendgroup, we're lovers

Mikey: i'm talking about us, dipshit

Baji: who

Mikey: everyone who isn't Chifuyu and Kazutora??

Baji: idgaf

Mikey: ayt

Pah: weren't we your treasures or smth 🧐?

Baji: i've moved on to bigger things

Baji: smaller twinks

Baji: you get me?

Smiley: Chifuyu's short but he's not a twink.

Smiley: now Kazutora, we can call a twink

Smiley: you guys are using this word wrong

Mikey: it's it just a skinny guy?

Smiley: "a gay or effeminate man, or a young man, regarded as an object of homosexual desire, usually a bottom. they are attractive and slim in appearance."

Draken: this is just Mitsuya

Mikey: 🧐

Mitsuya: ?

Smiley: that is correct but i didn't wanna say anything cause that twink got hands🤷‍♂️

Mikey: now that i think about it, Mitsuya used to be kinda built. not buff but not skinny. fuck happened

Pah: Draken died

Pah: "died"

Baji: so he stopped eating? lame

Mitsuya: do you guys get how mourning works

Draken: well i'm good now so let's get this grub 🗣

Draken: sorry for making you sad, brother

Draken: it's my mission to bulk you up again

Mitsuya: i'm fine👍

Mikey: no one dying is going to get in between me and a meal😭🙏

Mikey: skill issue on Mitsuya's part

Smiley: skill issue is when your friend dies and you go into a depression so deep that you can't even eat anymore

Mikey: that's what i'm saying❗

Smiley: leave it up to Draken to get shot 3 times in the chest and just walk it off

Smiley: that was kinda hard tho

Draken: thanks👍

Draken: it hurt really bad

Draken: i think it traumatized me

Draken: i can't go to amusement parts now. or listen to fireworks cause i'll start hallucinating shit that happened from that night. weird

Mitsuya: ...that's called ptsd

Baji: yeah man you have ptsd

Draken: what's ptsd

Baji: PTSDEEZ NUTS LMAOOOOOOO

Baji: GOT EM

Draken: i wish your suicide attempt worked you mentally challenged, wanna be werewolf, loreal shampoo ad looking ass bitch

Baji: BANG BANG BANG💣💥💣💥💣💥

Mikey: DUDE💀

Baji: do you guys get it

Baji: it's the gunshots

Baji: because he has PTSD

Baji: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Draken: do you remember how you killed Shinichiro

Baji: 😐

Mikey: GUYS💀

Draken: i'm sorry Mikey

Draken: but

Draken: Baji do you remember when you were screaming his name and watched him bleed to death

Smiley: ☠️

Draken: the skull represent Shinichiro, who you killed

Baji: anyway

Baji: back to my kittens

Baji: before Draken decided to take shit too far😒

Draken: when you go low I'll go lower

Baji: cause you were almost 6 feet under???

Draken: where you put Shinichiro??

Baji: ANYWAY

Mikey: Ken-chin he's gonna kill himself again😔

Draken: that is exactly the point

Baji: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY ANYWAY

Baji: anyway

Baji: back to the topic at hand 😐

Baji: i'm doing it tonight

Mitsuya: ahem

Mitsuya: do you know how awkward it's gonna be when Kazutora rejects you? we don't wanna have to deal with that

Baji: he won't reject me

Mikey: your delusional

Baji: can you guys name a situation in which things didn't work out for me?

Baji: no you can't

Mitsuya: 1) Bloody Halloween??

Draken: 2) Your grades🤨?

Mikey: 3) Not making your mom cry🤔?

Baji: ...

Baji: those don't count

Smiley: it's so hard trying to talk to stupid people

Smiley: he doesn't use logic at all

Draken: Baji don't fucking ask them out

Mikey: ask Chifuyu!!! that f slur is obsessed with you😍

Draken: don't say that word😐

Mikey: i literally didn't say it😭

Mitsuya: Baji please just think for literally one second

Baji: too late cause i just texted them

Mitsuya: omfg

Mikey: you fool😞

Mikey: what did you say??

Baji: i went to our groupchat

Baji: "yo let's cut the bullshit. i'm in love with the both of you so why don't we all date and love each other in a relationship with all three of us and shit"

Baji: i sent that

Smiley: you're very... direct

Smiley: i'll give you that

Smiley: Kazutora's gonna say no

Draken: obviously

Baji: bet

Baji's kittens:

Kazutora: Chifuyu can you please change the fucking groupchat name

Kazutora: i know you and Baji do kinky shit together but i am NOT anybody's kitten

Chifuyu: but Baji-san changed it and i can't change it back if he doesn't want me to

Chifuyu: and Baji-san and i do not do "kinky shit"

Chifuyu: we don't have a sexual relationship😐

Kazutora: you have free will mothefucker!! you don't need his fucking permission

Kazutora: is he your dom or something😭

Kazutora: why are so obsessed with him jesus

Kazutora: you guys are gay af

Chifuyu: just because i don't stab my friends doesn't mean i'm gay

Chifuyu: i just respect him a lot cause he's cool 😒

Chifuyu: nothing you'd know about

Chifuyu: you psychopath

Kazutora: you slobber on his dick all day

Kazutora: "Baji-san!!! What a cool kick!! Can you teach me😁?"

Kazutora: you might as well just ask him to put it in

Chifuyu: shut the fuck up all you've ever known are the prison walls that enclosed you

Kazutora: NOT ANYMORE😁

Baji: ladies, ladies

Baji: there's enough to go around 😏

Baji: ew. alright i'm never using that emoji again what the fuck

Kazutora: CHANGE THE GROUPCHAT NAME

Baji: no

Kazutora: you and Chifuyu can do your pet play somewhere else please leave me out of it 🙏

Baji: nuh uh

Baji: you're a tiger

Baji: tigers are cats

Baji: so you're a kitten

Baji: done deal

Kazutora: i'm an adult tiger not a kitten😐

Baji: i'm the alpha and you and Chifuyu are my omega's

Kazutora: what the fuck does that mean????

Chifuyu: haha Baji-san😂

Kazutora: i've never seen someone ride someone else's meat so hard before holy shit

Chifuyu: if you don't understand what respect is, just say that 🙄

Baji: don't lie Chifuyu

Baji: you're in love with me

Kazutora: LMFAOOOOOOOOO

Baji: you are too Kazutora

Kazutora: 🤨

Baji: yo let's cut the bullshit. i'm in love with the both of you so why don't we all date and love each other in a relationship with all three of us and shit

Baji: you guys are in love with each other too just by the way

Kazutora: what

Kazutora: that's not how anything works

Chifuyu: Baji-san i ask again is this a prank 🤣🤣🤣

Kazutora: it has to be cause i'm not a boy kisser like you mfs

Baji: Kazutora be fr. you just got out of prison, you're clinically insane, you're on parole, people feel unsettled by your presence, you have an ankle bracelet, you belong to the state, you have mommy AND daddy issues, you've killed someone

Kazutora: damn

Kazutora: you didn't have to list it like that

Baji: all i'm saying is that i'm your best option because i don't care about all of this and i'll take care of you for the rest of your life even tho you're crazy

Baji: cause i love you (gayly)

Baji: you could even stab me again

Chifuyu: NO

Baji: Chifuyu shut the up i'll get to you babe

Chifuyu: yes Baji-san

Kazutora: "yes daddy😩😍"

Kazutora: what the fuck dude you could least try to hide it 💀

Baji: can u focus

Kazutora: oh right

Kazutora: what about gay sex tho

Baji: i'll teach you

Kazutora: but you have a dick

Baji: uhhhh

Baji: fine you can use yours

Baji: nah nevermind i'm not a bottom

Baji: fuck you

Kazutora: i didn't even say anything

Kazutora: but whatever ig

Kazutora: i'm not gonna be with Chifuyu tho😐

Baji: you are

Kazutora: 😒

Baji: Chifuyu we've been in love for years so i know you'll say yes. just needed to convince Tora babygirl

Chifuyu: but is this a prank tho🤣🤣

Baji: no

Baji: you are my boyfriend now

Baji: both of you come over

Kazutora: ughhhhhhhhhhhhh

Kazutora: fine

Chifuyu: are the both of you pranking me🤣😂

Baji: just come over you fucking idiot

Baji: that was too mean

Baji: please come over you fucking idiot❤

Captains:

Baji: they said yes and we're all about to have sex now

Mikey: you're just gonna lie Baji

Draken: should i get beers? you can cry if you want i won't even laugh at you

Draken: i promise

Mikey: you're just gonna lie Ken-chin

Mitsuya: what did they actually say

Baji: they're coming over? and we're about to make love? are you guys dumb 🤨

Baji: it worked out how i said it would

Smiley: Draken gets the beers i'll get the cigarettes

Smiley: Baji we tried to tell you

Draken: don't piss me off cause you know i don't smoke

Draken: you're gonna influence Angry into an early grave

Draken: do you want your brother to have lung cancer

Smiley: chill

Smiley: Angry tried a cigarette and almost died

Smiley: so you don't have to worry about that

Smiley: fine i'll bring weed instead

Mitsuya: where are you getting drugs😐

Smiley: my plug, duh 😁

Mikey: can i have a weed as well please

Smiley: idk man what if your dark impulses come out or something

Mikey: my therapist said that only happens with specific triggers so it's fine

Mikey: plus i have a shock collar in case that happens

Draken: i don't think that's normal 🤨

Baji: you guys are pissing me off

Mikey: dude it's fine we can comfort you even tho we told you so

Draken: i'm gonna be the better man and forgive you since you've just been rejected

Baji: yk what idgaf

Baji: i'ma just nut in my kittens

Baji: bye losers

Baji: no one does it like i do

Mikey: poor thing🙁

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